I know I'm a stubborn person. I like to think it's a quality that has helped me survive in some ways. I know it can also be a bad quality though. Sometimes when doctors say things to me, it takes a while for it to hit home. Sometimes it's so overwhelming, I don't even know how to process it. Dr. Huie slammed me today with a pretty severe statement...
"I am the worst (most severe) asthmatic he, Dr. Olson, & National Jewish have ever treated."
...this from the top lung doctors in the nation's top lung institute.
...this is an overwhelming thing to hear, especially for someone who likes to pretend everything is "okay"...
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
Okay, whoa, okay, but, whoa...
Thursday was a slow day, but overall good. My lungs started improving again. Dr. Cosgrove felt confident about staying on course with the steroid taper. I was still reactive and sensitive, but he expected that. My INR blood level dropped a tad, but he felt like an increase in the coumadin and one Lovenox shot would get it back on course. There was a chance I could be released Friday.
During the night, I started feeling more pain and irritation from my IV site. It had become infected. :( It made me sick to think I had to go through getting yet another new IV.
Dr. Cosgrove spent a lot of time with us today. He cancelled the laryngoscopy because he was concerned my airways are still too sensitive. He said they can order it in a few weeks if my doctors back home feel it is necessary. The good news... no awesome news is that he said he is ready to release me tomorrow morning. He said it is the right time to send me back home and transfer care outside of the hospital. The, eh, other, news is that my INR level dropped even more. I need more Lovenox shots and a higher dose of coumadin to be in the "safe" zone. That means my parents are going to need to administer the shots over the course of the weekend drive home. OMG!! Dr. Cosgrove's concern was that the nurses have been having trouble safely administering the shot to me due to malnutrition. My parents will be trained in the morning by one of the best nurses. Dr. Cosgrove is also prescribing some numbing cream that is typically used for ports in cancer patients. He said it should make a difference in the pain. (Oh I hope so). I will need to get to the doctor in Lexington, Monday morning for an INR level to decide the next step.
My head is spinning with information, hesitation, excitement, uncertainty, exhaustion... I can't wait to be home. I want to see my home, my friends, my dog, my bed, my yard, my little classroom, my students, my family. I wish I could blink myself there - avoid the added exhaustion of the 1300 mile drive. I can't though. Once again, I must take my victory and run with it. I am going to go to sleep on this last night at Rose Medical Center, so thankful for all they have done, and let go of the things I cannot change. Tomorrow morning Dr. Huie will be back to fill in the rest of the blanks about my immediate plan. The plan that is All for Good...
During the night, I started feeling more pain and irritation from my IV site. It had become infected. :( It made me sick to think I had to go through getting yet another new IV.
Dr. Cosgrove spent a lot of time with us today. He cancelled the laryngoscopy because he was concerned my airways are still too sensitive. He said they can order it in a few weeks if my doctors back home feel it is necessary. The good news... no awesome news is that he said he is ready to release me tomorrow morning. He said it is the right time to send me back home and transfer care outside of the hospital. The, eh, other, news is that my INR level dropped even more. I need more Lovenox shots and a higher dose of coumadin to be in the "safe" zone. That means my parents are going to need to administer the shots over the course of the weekend drive home. OMG!! Dr. Cosgrove's concern was that the nurses have been having trouble safely administering the shot to me due to malnutrition. My parents will be trained in the morning by one of the best nurses. Dr. Cosgrove is also prescribing some numbing cream that is typically used for ports in cancer patients. He said it should make a difference in the pain. (Oh I hope so). I will need to get to the doctor in Lexington, Monday morning for an INR level to decide the next step.
My head is spinning with information, hesitation, excitement, uncertainty, exhaustion... I can't wait to be home. I want to see my home, my friends, my dog, my bed, my yard, my little classroom, my students, my family. I wish I could blink myself there - avoid the added exhaustion of the 1300 mile drive. I can't though. Once again, I must take my victory and run with it. I am going to go to sleep on this last night at Rose Medical Center, so thankful for all they have done, and let go of the things I cannot change. Tomorrow morning Dr. Huie will be back to fill in the rest of the blanks about my immediate plan. The plan that is All for Good...
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Stand By Me
All for Good ~ I really do believe that. It wouldn't be the title of the blog if I didn't. One good that has come from this tough month is that I think I've had a chance to learn more about myself. I've also learned more about my friends and family. I've really never been the type of person to expect things from people, but certainly am appreciative. I also don't thrive on attention, but like anyone, I need support. My eyes have been opened by the friends who have stood by me this month. I am truly blessed and know that I wouldn't have made it through without their endless encouragement. I am better because of these new wonderful people in my life!
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Baby Steps
If there is one thing for sure, I can say that the professionals that work here at Rose Medical Center and National Jewish are true professionals in their fields. They are concerned about my COMPLETE well being not just the aspect that is most critical at the moment. This is just another reason I know I'm in the right place. With everything that is going on, dealing with food seems like another impossible mountain to climb. Yesterday was a good day though, for the first time in ages, I actually craved something! It was rice, which is too low calorie according to my nutritionist, but nonetheless ~ I wanted it and ate it! Yay for positives ~ let's add one to the victory column!
Dr. Cosgrove tapered my solu-medrol back to 12 hour doses last night. Another victory! The basic plan was that if my system held strong, he would switch to oral steroids by Thursday and I could be released by Friday. Mom and Dad were giddy with the idea of hitting the road. They immediately began dialing numbers to spread the news when the doctor left the room. With this plan in place, I didn't get my 6:00 p.m. treatment and my family left the hospital with high hopes of heading home soon.
Overnight, I could feel my newfound "ease" to breathe was slipping away a little. I rested on my bed watching the beautiful snow fall just praying my lungs would rally. All day I knew I was a bit worse, but it was minimal enough that I was able to play it off. I'm so tired of being a disappointment to my family. They are so ready to go home. I'm trying so hard to stay positive and focused but it's so hard when I'm not the only one being impacted.
Anyhow, when Dr. Cosgrove visited today, I was very quiet. I assured him that I was okay. He agreed to taper the solu-medrol again but with a big warning. He said that he and Dr. Olson spoke today. They both believe that my health is in such a reactive and critical state that if I spiral again soon, the outcome will be much worse than this time. To top it off, he also noted that my INR labwork dropped and if an increase in the coumadin doesn't get it back on course, I'll need to go back on the Lovenox shots. Deep breath, (well, mentally anyway).
About an hour after Dr. Cosgrove left, Dad and I decided to go for a walk around the hospital to look at the snow out the windows. As I was walking, an outside door opened and the cold air snatched my breath away. We turned down a long hallway with an odd smell. It happened so quickly there was nothing I could do. I could barely breathe. I had a lost a weeks worth of progress. I was calm of course, trying not to let Dad know how bad it was, but he could tell. Dr. Cosgrove has cautiously decided to monitor me through the night on the current plan to see if I might improve without increasing the treatment again. At last check my O2 was down to 93% on room air. It's been holding strong at 97% for a week now.
I guess this is truly what you'd call baby steps in progress. I'm surprised to admit that I'm not feeling defeated right now. It's odd. Honestly, I feel a bit numb tonight. And maybe that in itself is a gift.
Dr. Cosgrove tapered my solu-medrol back to 12 hour doses last night. Another victory! The basic plan was that if my system held strong, he would switch to oral steroids by Thursday and I could be released by Friday. Mom and Dad were giddy with the idea of hitting the road. They immediately began dialing numbers to spread the news when the doctor left the room. With this plan in place, I didn't get my 6:00 p.m. treatment and my family left the hospital with high hopes of heading home soon.
Overnight, I could feel my newfound "ease" to breathe was slipping away a little. I rested on my bed watching the beautiful snow fall just praying my lungs would rally. All day I knew I was a bit worse, but it was minimal enough that I was able to play it off. I'm so tired of being a disappointment to my family. They are so ready to go home. I'm trying so hard to stay positive and focused but it's so hard when I'm not the only one being impacted.
Anyhow, when Dr. Cosgrove visited today, I was very quiet. I assured him that I was okay. He agreed to taper the solu-medrol again but with a big warning. He said that he and Dr. Olson spoke today. They both believe that my health is in such a reactive and critical state that if I spiral again soon, the outcome will be much worse than this time. To top it off, he also noted that my INR labwork dropped and if an increase in the coumadin doesn't get it back on course, I'll need to go back on the Lovenox shots. Deep breath, (well, mentally anyway).
About an hour after Dr. Cosgrove left, Dad and I decided to go for a walk around the hospital to look at the snow out the windows. As I was walking, an outside door opened and the cold air snatched my breath away. We turned down a long hallway with an odd smell. It happened so quickly there was nothing I could do. I could barely breathe. I had a lost a weeks worth of progress. I was calm of course, trying not to let Dad know how bad it was, but he could tell. Dr. Cosgrove has cautiously decided to monitor me through the night on the current plan to see if I might improve without increasing the treatment again. At last check my O2 was down to 93% on room air. It's been holding strong at 97% for a week now.
I guess this is truly what you'd call baby steps in progress. I'm surprised to admit that I'm not feeling defeated right now. It's odd. Honestly, I feel a bit numb tonight. And maybe that in itself is a gift.
A Silver Lining
Here are a few day brighteners and random pics from my stay at Rose Medical Center...
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| Happiness from Jackson (yes, Jackson via Bub & Melodie!) |
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| Sunrise from my hospital window. |
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| Dusk from my hospital window. |
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| Posters sending love from 2nd grade! |
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| More posters & cards adorning my beautiful room. |
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| Even more cards, posters, and love sent from home! |
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| Gorgeous and aromatic flowers from amazing friends from school! |
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Midday view from my room. |
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| A gift from Denver to me ~ S N O W !!!! |
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Monday, October 24, 2011
A Sincere Consultation
This was a very long Monday. Debbie and Melodie were winding down to fly home and Mom and Dad were clearly hitting a wall of stress and exhaustion. So much was in the air but not being said.
The good news was that I actually had some air movement in my lungs, but I was having a harder time fighting the effects of the treatments. I fell asleep for part of the late morning while my visitors patiently watched time pass.
Dr. Cosgrove entered the room around 3:00 and stayed to talk with us for an inordinate amount of time. He was thorough, sincere, and resolved. He explained once again the serious nature of my condition and how they are dedicated to me and only what is best for me specifically, regardless of what it talks. He discussed the complexity of my rare conditions and why that has made treatment, diagnosis, care and improvement so difficult. He immediately made it clear that I am no challenge they are ever going to walk away from. He wants me to believe that even though it will be tough, he and Dr. Olson are determined to help me to better days. A lot will need to change. He relayed that it will be more difficult for (even me) to push through. I will also be on a very intense schedule with the doctor to monitor everything about every treatment and how they are interacting with one another. It will be a long road, but they believe there is hope. Right now, the things that are working against me are all things he and Dr. Olson are trying to find alternatives for so I can regain strength .... and fight again.
This has been a lot to take in, and of course I'm recounting it all in a vague overview. It's just so blurry, so hard to absorb. I am believing that things were revealed here all in part of God's great plan of good for me. He had to know that this is where true action would be taken and His plan would follow course. So once again, as tough and painful as things are now, more than ever I have to find a way to focus on the ultimate good of His plan.
Speaking of ill effects and the way my body is reacting to the treatments, this evening was pretty rough. My veins are taking a true beating from the IV meds and unfortunately they weren't the strongest blood pumpers in the first place. My IV site gave out this afternoon and had to be changed before my next treatment. It didn't go near as smoothly as last time. It took eight tries, three specialists, and a vein ultrasound to finally get a successful new IV started. With each careful try, the vein would blow with more intense pain than the one before. With a disappointed look, the IV nurse told Mom after landing the "successful" site that it would not likely last long. It has made it through the first few treatments, but constantly aches. Once again, I have to shift my focus, I have to look at what is good and what is coming. I can handle this, I am stronger than this pain. I am alive and I am on course for better days.
The good news was that I actually had some air movement in my lungs, but I was having a harder time fighting the effects of the treatments. I fell asleep for part of the late morning while my visitors patiently watched time pass.
Dr. Cosgrove entered the room around 3:00 and stayed to talk with us for an inordinate amount of time. He was thorough, sincere, and resolved. He explained once again the serious nature of my condition and how they are dedicated to me and only what is best for me specifically, regardless of what it talks. He discussed the complexity of my rare conditions and why that has made treatment, diagnosis, care and improvement so difficult. He immediately made it clear that I am no challenge they are ever going to walk away from. He wants me to believe that even though it will be tough, he and Dr. Olson are determined to help me to better days. A lot will need to change. He relayed that it will be more difficult for (even me) to push through. I will also be on a very intense schedule with the doctor to monitor everything about every treatment and how they are interacting with one another. It will be a long road, but they believe there is hope. Right now, the things that are working against me are all things he and Dr. Olson are trying to find alternatives for so I can regain strength .... and fight again.
This has been a lot to take in, and of course I'm recounting it all in a vague overview. It's just so blurry, so hard to absorb. I am believing that things were revealed here all in part of God's great plan of good for me. He had to know that this is where true action would be taken and His plan would follow course. So once again, as tough and painful as things are now, more than ever I have to find a way to focus on the ultimate good of His plan.
Speaking of ill effects and the way my body is reacting to the treatments, this evening was pretty rough. My veins are taking a true beating from the IV meds and unfortunately they weren't the strongest blood pumpers in the first place. My IV site gave out this afternoon and had to be changed before my next treatment. It didn't go near as smoothly as last time. It took eight tries, three specialists, and a vein ultrasound to finally get a successful new IV started. With each careful try, the vein would blow with more intense pain than the one before. With a disappointed look, the IV nurse told Mom after landing the "successful" site that it would not likely last long. It has made it through the first few treatments, but constantly aches. Once again, I have to shift my focus, I have to look at what is good and what is coming. I can handle this, I am stronger than this pain. I am alive and I am on course for better days.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Watching the sands pass through the hour glass
Little has really changed since I wrote Thursday evening. My overall well-being has diminished to some extent each day because of the toll the powerful treatments are taking on my weak system. It's all been making me feel pretty rough overall. I barely have a voice and feel quite weak and achy. I've still been fighting to breathe, but the huge increase in solu-medrol is making a big difference. I guess the worse part, besides how I'm feeling is the pain from the Lovenox shots. The full dose is significantly more painful than the minimal dose I've been on. They say it will only be a few more days though...I can push through for that...I can.
Friday afternoon, Dr. Olson stopped in to visit me. It was unlike any encournter we've had. She was so serious and resolved. She explained that my health in a pretty serious condition and she won't allow me to leave her care until I am in a much safer state. She's on vacation beginning this weekend, but said that she'd still be in town for the first part of next week. If I am out of the hospital by then, she said she'd come in to see me again before I head home, if it's not until later in the week, she would leave all the information for Dr. Cosgrove, her ILD partner to meet with me. Right now, she and Dr. Katial are working on the plan for my course of treatment. The immediate concern is to get the treatment for the pulmonary embolism on track. After that it would be imperative to follow suit with aspirin desensitization, treatment for Churg Strauss and everything else.
She also made it clear that Dr. Thompson is not the safe way to go any longer for my "go to" doctor. He just isn't available or reliable enough. She recommended that she speak with Dr. Raghavan and get her on board with the treatment plan. My immediate needs will require visiting the doctor bi-weekly for labwork, well checks, and weigh ins. As far as work, she said that would depend on how my body fights and handles all the combined treatments in connection to the germy school environment. That's something I just won't allow myself to process for now...
So, for the time being, I've been fighting with everything in me to stay strong, as strong as I can. Because this is harder than anything I honestly ever thought I was going to face on this trip to Denver. I am so blessed though, because, Melodie, Debbie, and Katie just popped in like sunbeams this weekend. They decorated my hospital room with cards from school and their bright smiles. They filled the silence with hilarious stories even when I couldn't laugh. Katie read blurbs from the paper and they brought nutty stories from the hallway when my walking privileges were taken away because I was getting worse. It was a gift I'll never be able to repay or explain, but I will NEVER forget a second of the time they gave to me.
The high doses have begun to pay off. My breathing is finally improving again. Dr. Wells dropped by today and said they are dropping the solu-medrol again to see how I react. He even gave me permission to spend a little time outside on a bench in the beautiful Denver sunshine! What a treat after this long week inside! My ECHO is now scheduled for tomorrow morning to check for eosinophils in my heart. The other big focus as I mentioned is nutrition. They are attacking me with every supplement and calorie possible at this point. It's practically humorous how often the nutrition people come into my room now to bring trays of this or that. I'm doing all I can to try to eat, but it feels like such a monstrous mission.
Anyhow, the weekend is coming to a close and it's almost time for another round of treatments. I don't know what tomorrow will bring as far as how I'll feel, or test results, or even a new outline for my week. All I know is that this is where I am now, and I am making it ~ I really am making it. More than just making it, I am going to beat this!
Friday afternoon, Dr. Olson stopped in to visit me. It was unlike any encournter we've had. She was so serious and resolved. She explained that my health in a pretty serious condition and she won't allow me to leave her care until I am in a much safer state. She's on vacation beginning this weekend, but said that she'd still be in town for the first part of next week. If I am out of the hospital by then, she said she'd come in to see me again before I head home, if it's not until later in the week, she would leave all the information for Dr. Cosgrove, her ILD partner to meet with me. Right now, she and Dr. Katial are working on the plan for my course of treatment. The immediate concern is to get the treatment for the pulmonary embolism on track. After that it would be imperative to follow suit with aspirin desensitization, treatment for Churg Strauss and everything else.
She also made it clear that Dr. Thompson is not the safe way to go any longer for my "go to" doctor. He just isn't available or reliable enough. She recommended that she speak with Dr. Raghavan and get her on board with the treatment plan. My immediate needs will require visiting the doctor bi-weekly for labwork, well checks, and weigh ins. As far as work, she said that would depend on how my body fights and handles all the combined treatments in connection to the germy school environment. That's something I just won't allow myself to process for now...
So, for the time being, I've been fighting with everything in me to stay strong, as strong as I can. Because this is harder than anything I honestly ever thought I was going to face on this trip to Denver. I am so blessed though, because, Melodie, Debbie, and Katie just popped in like sunbeams this weekend. They decorated my hospital room with cards from school and their bright smiles. They filled the silence with hilarious stories even when I couldn't laugh. Katie read blurbs from the paper and they brought nutty stories from the hallway when my walking privileges were taken away because I was getting worse. It was a gift I'll never be able to repay or explain, but I will NEVER forget a second of the time they gave to me.
The high doses have begun to pay off. My breathing is finally improving again. Dr. Wells dropped by today and said they are dropping the solu-medrol again to see how I react. He even gave me permission to spend a little time outside on a bench in the beautiful Denver sunshine! What a treat after this long week inside! My ECHO is now scheduled for tomorrow morning to check for eosinophils in my heart. The other big focus as I mentioned is nutrition. They are attacking me with every supplement and calorie possible at this point. It's practically humorous how often the nutrition people come into my room now to bring trays of this or that. I'm doing all I can to try to eat, but it feels like such a monstrous mission.
Anyhow, the weekend is coming to a close and it's almost time for another round of treatments. I don't know what tomorrow will bring as far as how I'll feel, or test results, or even a new outline for my week. All I know is that this is where I am now, and I am making it ~ I really am making it. More than just making it, I am going to beat this!
Thursday, October 20, 2011
What will I see when I look back?
Tonight, I'm sitting here, trying to recap and detach simultaneously ~ a bizarre combination, but precisely the typical me thing to do. I'm wondering what I will see years down the road when I read back through this. How strong is my body and how much can it take? How will I feel about how I dealt with the hand I've been given?
Yesterday, when Dr. Huie visited, a bit more time turned into 2-4 more days. I was very concerned about the impact that would have on Mom and Dad, but otherwise felt I took it well. I miss home terribly. I know I must continue to focus on my purpose for being here - treatment from the best....treatment from the doctor and team that will NOT give up. I must believe that this is still all for good and when I'm not strong enough hundreds of others are being strong for me by the grace of God.
Today, on a bright note, dear friends arrived to visit from home! What a beautiful sight! Melodie and Debbie flew in just to be with me! Words will never express my humble appreciation for their friendship!
They arrived in time to witness the team of doctors come into my room for midday rounds. Dr. Huie took the lead this time. He was a bit more intense than before. He was concerned about my lack of improvement and diminishing lung function even on the meds. He ordered a high resolution chest CT and reminded me he was constantly talking with Dr. Olson.
After lunch, Dr. Dallas Dunn, a resident entered the room to share the CT results. He said they found a pulmonary embolism (a blood clot) in the upper right lobe of my lung. It was likely part of the explanation for my lack of improvement. It was good that they found it and something that must be acted upon immediately. They would be ordering more tests and Dr. Huie would be in to speak with me.
I was taken down for leg ultrasounds, had a labs drawn, and as if on cue, Dr. Huie walked in. He explained that he is concerned about my overall condition and he and Dr. Olson are taking every measure to care for me. To treat the blood clot, the plan is to start with a higher dose of two Lovenox shots daily and coumadin. The treatment will likely last about six months. They will constantly monitor me and make adjustments as needed. Treatment will be able to be outpatient as soon as they get the levels under control. They also feel confident that I'll be able to undergo my treatment for Churg Strauss at the same time.
What a load to take in... a pulmonary embolism... in my lung? More painful lovenox shots? Sometimes I... I just don't know... how to process what's going on or what I'm being told. I just feel like I have to take it in and go with it. Trust that this is all part of the plan and somehow, I'll be able to handle it. Somehow, I will...
As the evening was coming to a close, my night nurse, Christy came in to check on me and noticed I was bleeding out from my IV site. It had been hurting more and more all week, but today has definitely been the worst. She looked at my arms and like a true hero, didn't even try to redo it on her own, she sent in the Charge Nurse who is apparently an IV champion. Removing the old IV was actually more painful than starting the new one. As soon as it was in, she gave me my first full dose of Lovenox, which nearly sent me over the edge. Melodie and Debbie did their thing to fill the room with crazy stories of total nonsense. I had a few bites of roasted tomato soup hand delivered by them from the Madison Street Cafe (a new Denver fave) and they headed off to their hotel room.
What will I see when I look back? I want to believe that I will see the real me... living my life and not letting my circumstances rule me. I hope I will see someone I am proud to look back on....
Yesterday, when Dr. Huie visited, a bit more time turned into 2-4 more days. I was very concerned about the impact that would have on Mom and Dad, but otherwise felt I took it well. I miss home terribly. I know I must continue to focus on my purpose for being here - treatment from the best....treatment from the doctor and team that will NOT give up. I must believe that this is still all for good and when I'm not strong enough hundreds of others are being strong for me by the grace of God.
Today, on a bright note, dear friends arrived to visit from home! What a beautiful sight! Melodie and Debbie flew in just to be with me! Words will never express my humble appreciation for their friendship!
They arrived in time to witness the team of doctors come into my room for midday rounds. Dr. Huie took the lead this time. He was a bit more intense than before. He was concerned about my lack of improvement and diminishing lung function even on the meds. He ordered a high resolution chest CT and reminded me he was constantly talking with Dr. Olson.
After lunch, Dr. Dallas Dunn, a resident entered the room to share the CT results. He said they found a pulmonary embolism (a blood clot) in the upper right lobe of my lung. It was likely part of the explanation for my lack of improvement. It was good that they found it and something that must be acted upon immediately. They would be ordering more tests and Dr. Huie would be in to speak with me.
I was taken down for leg ultrasounds, had a labs drawn, and as if on cue, Dr. Huie walked in. He explained that he is concerned about my overall condition and he and Dr. Olson are taking every measure to care for me. To treat the blood clot, the plan is to start with a higher dose of two Lovenox shots daily and coumadin. The treatment will likely last about six months. They will constantly monitor me and make adjustments as needed. Treatment will be able to be outpatient as soon as they get the levels under control. They also feel confident that I'll be able to undergo my treatment for Churg Strauss at the same time.
What a load to take in... a pulmonary embolism... in my lung? More painful lovenox shots? Sometimes I... I just don't know... how to process what's going on or what I'm being told. I just feel like I have to take it in and go with it. Trust that this is all part of the plan and somehow, I'll be able to handle it. Somehow, I will...
As the evening was coming to a close, my night nurse, Christy came in to check on me and noticed I was bleeding out from my IV site. It had been hurting more and more all week, but today has definitely been the worst. She looked at my arms and like a true hero, didn't even try to redo it on her own, she sent in the Charge Nurse who is apparently an IV champion. Removing the old IV was actually more painful than starting the new one. As soon as it was in, she gave me my first full dose of Lovenox, which nearly sent me over the edge. Melodie and Debbie did their thing to fill the room with crazy stories of total nonsense. I had a few bites of roasted tomato soup hand delivered by them from the Madison Street Cafe (a new Denver fave) and they headed off to their hotel room.
What will I see when I look back? I want to believe that I will see the real me... living my life and not letting my circumstances rule me. I hope I will see someone I am proud to look back on....
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Continuing the fight
I actually fell asleep for about 45 minutes according to my dear nurse. She was so concerned for me. Things were brighter this morning. I met my day nurse, Maura, which is also the name of one of my cheeriest cousins! :) Dr. Huie came in and said he felt good about the direction of my progress. If I stayed on course, I would leave the ICU for a regular room later today and p o s s i b l y get out tomorrow. Another score for the win column! I suppose the look on my face was a bit too revealing of my optimism because he stopped me. He quickly reminded me that I was FAR from okay. He TOO vividly described me as a patient that the EMTs dropped by the ER on the way to the morgue, and a day later is simply the most severe asthmatic patient he's ever treated. He said better is relative. I understood and agreed because that's the way I live my life. Once again, I'll take it. :)
I left Maura later that morning for a beautifully new renovated room on the fifth floor and more top notch care-givers. Unfortunately, I arrived to my new room feeling a bit worse. My first round of vitals revealed a fever and diminished airflow. By the time Dr. Huie visited at 6:00 p.m. I was clearly going downhill again. He was so disappointed. He said it would take more time, but he and "Amy" (Dr. Olson) were talking constantly and absolutely on the same page. He would bump my meds a bit, but not much because they had to force my lungs to start working on their own again.
Feeling a bit dismal, but comforted by the KNOWING the A-team of the century is on my side, I pushed the aches and exhaustion from fighting away. I curled into my bed and escaped to the cheerful world of anecdotes and nonsense texts from my dearest friends.
I left Maura later that morning for a beautifully new renovated room on the fifth floor and more top notch care-givers. Unfortunately, I arrived to my new room feeling a bit worse. My first round of vitals revealed a fever and diminished airflow. By the time Dr. Huie visited at 6:00 p.m. I was clearly going downhill again. He was so disappointed. He said it would take more time, but he and "Amy" (Dr. Olson) were talking constantly and absolutely on the same page. He would bump my meds a bit, but not much because they had to force my lungs to start working on their own again.
Feeling a bit dismal, but comforted by the KNOWING the A-team of the century is on my side, I pushed the aches and exhaustion from fighting away. I curled into my bed and escaped to the cheerful world of anecdotes and nonsense texts from my dearest friends.
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| Happiness from the School & Friends I Adore! |
Monday, October 17, 2011
The day I DON'T want to blog about...
As I mentioned, I've still been having quite a bit of trouble breathing even since I was released from the hospital. I've been counting the days to my appointment with Dr. Olson. I even tried to get in earlier on Friday, knowing I was in pretty bad shape ~ no availability though. So anyhow, I really struggled all night. Knowing I'm not supposed to take any asthma medication or inhalers before these first tests of the day, I tried to take my last dose at about 3:00 a.m. thinking that would get me through and not impact the test too much. By 6:00 I was in really bad shape again. My peak flow was only 60. I knew I would only get worse as I started moving around... push through and focus though. I started dressing and getting worse. By 7:00 I had to make a choice. I couldn't register on the peak flow, I had to do a treatment, I knew I was in bad enough condition that it would not impact the test. It helped some but I was still struggling.
I entered the friendly doors of National Jewish, Mom headed back home to get ready for the appointment with Dr. Olson (she's so not a morning person :) ). After registration, I headed to the dreaded 3rd floor sick about what I knew was coming. I hate failing these tests. They're so hard and so frustrating. Buck up though, it had to be done, and I'm tougher than this.
A new tech called me back, funny that I know everyone now, but I do & I got the new girl. Drama immediately ensued because I took a treatment at 7:00. She was bumfuddled at my audacity to break such a solid rule! She called Dr. Olson to tell on me. I was so calm and cool, I knew Dr O would understand and continue the test...which she did (in a one second conversation). The test lasted an hour and ten minutes. A treatment was included in the middle but with all the blowing and breathing effort it required I continued to struggle. I was exhausted and fighting back tears. I just wanted a break.
I was so relieved when it was over because according to my schedule, my next test was a simple 6-minute oximetry walk test. No arterial line gas draw listed. I felt secure. I checked uplifting texts from dear friends and composed myself. I was going to get through this. Juan called my name, I was ready.
He took me in the room where he should have grabbed a pulse ox machine, got a resting reading and set off for the walk. Instead he started folding a towel and I got a VERY sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was preparing for a arterial line gas draw...that wasn't on the schedule..damn Jennifer! I had to stay calm but I could feel myself getting weaker, I didn't know if I had it in me. I texted Debbie when he stepped out of the room. She's been through this with me before...she knows. She responded immediately like I knew she would. I dug deep and somehow made it through his digging and grinding through the interior of my wrist with his needle. He returned within ten minutes bustling through the room. He shared that my blood O2 was 84% and he would have to put me on oxygen for the walk as well as escort me to Dr. Olson and talk with her. We completed the test as I originally anticipated + an O2 tank in tow. I asked if we could take it off in the waiting room downstairs and let Dr. Olson talk with me about it & he agreed... hesitantly. When I left the exam room Mom was in the waiting room. The sight of me on oxygen killed her inside.Words just can't express what I feel like when I am putting her through this. These are the times I'm describing when I talk about not wanting people around. Not wanting my Mom to come to Denver with me. I know and see the pain I cause because they love me so much. I'm so tired of this battle not just because of what it's doing to me, but because of what it's doing to those who love me. It's just too much.
Anyway, I was quickly called for my appointment to Dr. Olson early. Apparently my other tests were cancelled. I went back for check in and Kaci walked me to a room. The minute she saw me she was so sincerely concerned and asked what was going on. Of course I said, I'm okay, and asked how she was doing. She laughed and said "only you Toni, Dr. Olson wants to get in here right away to talk to you about your oxygen." I had a gut feeling that meant we wouldn't be dealing with the stuff the appointment was originally about. I completely trust her though. She is the one and only doctor that has fought and studied and dug deep to figure out the mystery of me.
She walked in the room and did not mess around. I downplayed my symptoms as always, but of course I have been pushing through like this for days now. So this day really wasn't so dramatic to me. This is my life, I'm not going to stop living it. When I can't get into the doctor, I do what I know to do to help myself survive until I do get in, I don't just drop on the floor and stop existing until then. Anyhow, she sat down and further examined my numbers from the morning tests. She asked us how long we were in town. Mom quickly responded that we were leaving Wednesday morning and I calmly let her know that we were here for her to do what she needed to do. She didn't waste a second to make her decision. She said that I was NOT near okay, it was beyond critical. She was sending me to the hospital. She looked at Mom, concerning the timeframe, and Mom, tearing up said, I trust you and want her better. She said so do I...more than anything. She left the room and we heard her calling an ambulance...then the hospital ER. She was direct and concise. She left nothing out about how she wanted me to be treated. She returned quickly with a complete printout of my complicated health history to carry with us. She told me the ambulance was not an option & I was going into the ICU. Kaci walked in with oral meds to jumpstart me, another neb treatment, and some paperwork. In minutes I was on a gurney and out the door. I looked back and Mom was crying hysterically. My heart was breaking. I couldn't fix this. The EMT, Mike Dillon, was fantastic. He was talking to me calmly. Praising me for being so calm and under control and telling me not to worry about Mom - they would console her and get her to the hospital. In a fog, I heard him talking to me about how it was very likely that they were going to intubate me before or as soon as I arrived at the ER. He (and they) would take every precaution to prevent it, but my stats were spiralling quickly.
This was all registering in a way that I couldn't even process. I had to stay strong for Mom. I had to stay strong so not to make things worse. If I fell apart, they would undoubtedly have to intubate me. I am strong, I can beat this weak body. This won't happen this time, not again, not here. Not while Mom is by herself.
In the ER, at least 20 people were hustling around me. Hooking up lines, tubes, machines, listening to my non-working lungs, discussing options, reading the info from Dr. Olson, & talking about what she had said on the phone. Then they moved in for another arterial line gas....I started to lose what little I was holding on to. He started jamming and digging in my other wrist. I could feel him gouging the inside as he shoved my hand against the bed for leverage. He left with the tiny sample and minutes later returned saying he hit the vein and needed to go for it again. He went to the wrist Juan had accosted earlier. Still swollen and blue all over...so tender. He jabbed his needle in saying he didn't want to drag it out for me. After THREE minutes of the same grinding he pulled out the needle and pumped out his chest for his colleagues. They pulled the curtain for Mom the change me into the gown and I broke down in pain. I knew it would make me worse, I tried to stop, but like a toddler that falls on the sidewalk, sometimes the pain overcomes you. I pulled it together and was ready for them to continue.
Mom pulled the curtain back and they all rushed back in. They were injecting meds and starting fluids. They rushed out again as the the techs entered for the portable x-ray. When he finished, they removed my oxygen and hooked me to a huge machine that was supposed to force air into my lungs. The uncomfortable mask covered my head. The kind male nurse apologized, but said this was a measure short of intubation. They were truly trying everything they had. People were coming in just to cheer me on, support me, and beg me to hang in there. I heard one lady answer the phone and respond "yes Dr. Olson. We're doing all we can for her." What a doctor?
They finally rolled me to my ICU room where I was told I wasn't out of danger yet. My nurse was in and out of the room every ten minutes to check on me all night. It's all so foggy now, but sometime during the night, all their efforts came together, I began to stabilize. They turned off the big machine much earlier because they said my airways were too constricted and fighting against it too much. Around 3:30 a.m. my dr came in to check on me. His name is Tristan Huey & he's amazing. He said he felt like I was stable enough to be out of danger of needing intubation. I felt so relieved. I could tell he was too. He said he was still concerned about how my body would react when I started moving, but we'd deal with that in the morning.
I stared out my big Colorado style window after he left and felt good about news for the victory column. I knew I wasn't really much better, just extremely loaded with meds that were doing all the work for me. That would have to do for now though. At least I was awake, taking in my own breaths, and here to see another sunrise. That's where I'll direct my focus for now.
I entered the friendly doors of National Jewish, Mom headed back home to get ready for the appointment with Dr. Olson (she's so not a morning person :) ). After registration, I headed to the dreaded 3rd floor sick about what I knew was coming. I hate failing these tests. They're so hard and so frustrating. Buck up though, it had to be done, and I'm tougher than this.
A new tech called me back, funny that I know everyone now, but I do & I got the new girl. Drama immediately ensued because I took a treatment at 7:00. She was bumfuddled at my audacity to break such a solid rule! She called Dr. Olson to tell on me. I was so calm and cool, I knew Dr O would understand and continue the test...which she did (in a one second conversation). The test lasted an hour and ten minutes. A treatment was included in the middle but with all the blowing and breathing effort it required I continued to struggle. I was exhausted and fighting back tears. I just wanted a break.
I was so relieved when it was over because according to my schedule, my next test was a simple 6-minute oximetry walk test. No arterial line gas draw listed. I felt secure. I checked uplifting texts from dear friends and composed myself. I was going to get through this. Juan called my name, I was ready.
He took me in the room where he should have grabbed a pulse ox machine, got a resting reading and set off for the walk. Instead he started folding a towel and I got a VERY sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was preparing for a arterial line gas draw...that wasn't on the schedule..damn Jennifer! I had to stay calm but I could feel myself getting weaker, I didn't know if I had it in me. I texted Debbie when he stepped out of the room. She's been through this with me before...she knows. She responded immediately like I knew she would. I dug deep and somehow made it through his digging and grinding through the interior of my wrist with his needle. He returned within ten minutes bustling through the room. He shared that my blood O2 was 84% and he would have to put me on oxygen for the walk as well as escort me to Dr. Olson and talk with her. We completed the test as I originally anticipated + an O2 tank in tow. I asked if we could take it off in the waiting room downstairs and let Dr. Olson talk with me about it & he agreed... hesitantly. When I left the exam room Mom was in the waiting room. The sight of me on oxygen killed her inside.Words just can't express what I feel like when I am putting her through this. These are the times I'm describing when I talk about not wanting people around. Not wanting my Mom to come to Denver with me. I know and see the pain I cause because they love me so much. I'm so tired of this battle not just because of what it's doing to me, but because of what it's doing to those who love me. It's just too much.
Anyway, I was quickly called for my appointment to Dr. Olson early. Apparently my other tests were cancelled. I went back for check in and Kaci walked me to a room. The minute she saw me she was so sincerely concerned and asked what was going on. Of course I said, I'm okay, and asked how she was doing. She laughed and said "only you Toni, Dr. Olson wants to get in here right away to talk to you about your oxygen." I had a gut feeling that meant we wouldn't be dealing with the stuff the appointment was originally about. I completely trust her though. She is the one and only doctor that has fought and studied and dug deep to figure out the mystery of me.
She walked in the room and did not mess around. I downplayed my symptoms as always, but of course I have been pushing through like this for days now. So this day really wasn't so dramatic to me. This is my life, I'm not going to stop living it. When I can't get into the doctor, I do what I know to do to help myself survive until I do get in, I don't just drop on the floor and stop existing until then. Anyhow, she sat down and further examined my numbers from the morning tests. She asked us how long we were in town. Mom quickly responded that we were leaving Wednesday morning and I calmly let her know that we were here for her to do what she needed to do. She didn't waste a second to make her decision. She said that I was NOT near okay, it was beyond critical. She was sending me to the hospital. She looked at Mom, concerning the timeframe, and Mom, tearing up said, I trust you and want her better. She said so do I...more than anything. She left the room and we heard her calling an ambulance...then the hospital ER. She was direct and concise. She left nothing out about how she wanted me to be treated. She returned quickly with a complete printout of my complicated health history to carry with us. She told me the ambulance was not an option & I was going into the ICU. Kaci walked in with oral meds to jumpstart me, another neb treatment, and some paperwork. In minutes I was on a gurney and out the door. I looked back and Mom was crying hysterically. My heart was breaking. I couldn't fix this. The EMT, Mike Dillon, was fantastic. He was talking to me calmly. Praising me for being so calm and under control and telling me not to worry about Mom - they would console her and get her to the hospital. In a fog, I heard him talking to me about how it was very likely that they were going to intubate me before or as soon as I arrived at the ER. He (and they) would take every precaution to prevent it, but my stats were spiralling quickly.
This was all registering in a way that I couldn't even process. I had to stay strong for Mom. I had to stay strong so not to make things worse. If I fell apart, they would undoubtedly have to intubate me. I am strong, I can beat this weak body. This won't happen this time, not again, not here. Not while Mom is by herself.
In the ER, at least 20 people were hustling around me. Hooking up lines, tubes, machines, listening to my non-working lungs, discussing options, reading the info from Dr. Olson, & talking about what she had said on the phone. Then they moved in for another arterial line gas....I started to lose what little I was holding on to. He started jamming and digging in my other wrist. I could feel him gouging the inside as he shoved my hand against the bed for leverage. He left with the tiny sample and minutes later returned saying he hit the vein and needed to go for it again. He went to the wrist Juan had accosted earlier. Still swollen and blue all over...so tender. He jabbed his needle in saying he didn't want to drag it out for me. After THREE minutes of the same grinding he pulled out the needle and pumped out his chest for his colleagues. They pulled the curtain for Mom the change me into the gown and I broke down in pain. I knew it would make me worse, I tried to stop, but like a toddler that falls on the sidewalk, sometimes the pain overcomes you. I pulled it together and was ready for them to continue.
Mom pulled the curtain back and they all rushed back in. They were injecting meds and starting fluids. They rushed out again as the the techs entered for the portable x-ray. When he finished, they removed my oxygen and hooked me to a huge machine that was supposed to force air into my lungs. The uncomfortable mask covered my head. The kind male nurse apologized, but said this was a measure short of intubation. They were truly trying everything they had. People were coming in just to cheer me on, support me, and beg me to hang in there. I heard one lady answer the phone and respond "yes Dr. Olson. We're doing all we can for her." What a doctor?
They finally rolled me to my ICU room where I was told I wasn't out of danger yet. My nurse was in and out of the room every ten minutes to check on me all night. It's all so foggy now, but sometime during the night, all their efforts came together, I began to stabilize. They turned off the big machine much earlier because they said my airways were too constricted and fighting against it too much. Around 3:30 a.m. my dr came in to check on me. His name is Tristan Huey & he's amazing. He said he felt like I was stable enough to be out of danger of needing intubation. I felt so relieved. I could tell he was too. He said he was still concerned about how my body would react when I started moving, but we'd deal with that in the morning.
I stared out my big Colorado style window after he left and felt good about news for the victory column. I knew I wasn't really much better, just extremely loaded with meds that were doing all the work for me. That would have to do for now though. At least I was awake, taking in my own breaths, and here to see another sunrise. That's where I'll direct my focus for now.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Week Two
So, obviously the main event of this week was the surgery. In a nutshell, it was pretty rocky, but in the end it was a success & that's what really matters. :)
I hardly slept Monday night because I was having so much trouble breathing. I knew that wasn't exactly good in terms of having surgery the next morning, but I also knew the docs were expecting my trouble to some extent...and prepared for it. That's how I reassured myself that all would work out. (I'm pretty good at reasoning situations so I have no room to worry!) We left the apartment at 5:20 a.m. to head to the hospital. By 6:00 a.m. I was registered, in a lovely gown, & in a bed in the pre-op room....still struggling. The nurse was quite concerned, but couldn't order treatments without the doctor. I reassured her that I'd be okay until he arrived. She trusted me. Mom was completely beside herself. I could sense her tensing more and more with each passing minute. She even commented to the nurse that she loved and hated my calmness, but knew it was a life-saving quality in situations like this. :) The nurse tried to start my IV, but had that familiar trouble and blew veins likely because of my breathing. Another nurse was finally successful.
Just as they finished the IV, one of the anesthesiologists popped in. Her name was Mary Walker :) and she was a delightful soul. She immediately noticed my struggling and calmly jumped into action. She checked my O2 level, which was 89% and hooked up the oxygen mask. She put me on 10 liters of oxygen and ordered a treatment. Dr. Ramakrishnan walked around the corner just at that time. He gave me an OMG look, I smiled at him and he just smiled back shaking his head. He and the anesthesiologists consulted about the dangers of continuing with surgery in my condition. They laid it out for me saying I could end up on the ventilator overnight or longer, they could get me off but need to keep me overnight, or they could cause damage while intubating me because of my low O2 & brochospasms. At the same time, Dr. Ramakrishnan said that this could be as good as I get & it is the reason I am here ~ to get better. I agreed without hesitation. After a lung x-ray they all agreed to move forward. I said good-bye to Mom as was rolled to the OR. Dr. Ramakrishnan said the surgery would take an hour and we were underway.
The next thing I recall is being in recovery with people all around me. I was really struggling to breathe ~ but NOT on the ventilator! One of the nurses looked at me with a sweet smile, grabbed my hand and said, "You're quite the fighter, Toni! Don't stop now! We don't want to intubate you again!" I just smiled back at her. They said they'd let my mom come back as soon as I was more stable. When Mom came back she looked so scared, like she'd lived through a horror movie. She told me the surery ended up taking over two hours. They had trouble itubating me safely to start with because my airway was already so constricted. (in emergency situations they don't hesistate, but for a surgery they don't like to be so brutal). Then, the area in my forehead, near my cranium and around my eyes was in worse condition than the CT revealed. He had to work much longer and more intricately to complete his work successfully. In the end, my lungs were not responding when they stopped the ventilator. It took time to get me off, but they were successful. When they did, my stats plummetted again quickly and were hovering the need for re-intubation. They wouldn't even let Mom come back to see me until they felt they had me out of the woods.
Eventually I was in a room with a beautiful view. Dr. Ramakrishnan said he'd likely release me early in the morning. It ended up being more like four in the afternoon because my lungs just weren't cooperating. While I was there I had the most caring nurses and techs you can imagine. They make you feel confident that they are on top of your care. They are always aware of your stats and take action within seconds of a problematic change.
Since getting out recovery has been pretty smooth. My frustrating lungs have been the biggest obstacle for me. I've certainly had some pain due to the surgery, but have only taken one pain pill. They make me itch so intensely that even two Benedryl don't provide relief. I decided the pain is easier to handle than the itching! It was a pretty simple choice! :)
Tomorrow is a pretty big day. I'll admit I'm even a bit uneasy about it. I'm going back to National Jewish for lots of tests and my appointment with Dr. Olson. She's been my superhero through this battle. She has stuck with it and fought to solve the mystery of me. I'm looking forward to seeing her comforting face, but nervous about the tests. I know I'll get through... I just kinda wish I could fast forward this time! :)
I hardly slept Monday night because I was having so much trouble breathing. I knew that wasn't exactly good in terms of having surgery the next morning, but I also knew the docs were expecting my trouble to some extent...and prepared for it. That's how I reassured myself that all would work out. (I'm pretty good at reasoning situations so I have no room to worry!) We left the apartment at 5:20 a.m. to head to the hospital. By 6:00 a.m. I was registered, in a lovely gown, & in a bed in the pre-op room....still struggling. The nurse was quite concerned, but couldn't order treatments without the doctor. I reassured her that I'd be okay until he arrived. She trusted me. Mom was completely beside herself. I could sense her tensing more and more with each passing minute. She even commented to the nurse that she loved and hated my calmness, but knew it was a life-saving quality in situations like this. :) The nurse tried to start my IV, but had that familiar trouble and blew veins likely because of my breathing. Another nurse was finally successful.
Just as they finished the IV, one of the anesthesiologists popped in. Her name was Mary Walker :) and she was a delightful soul. She immediately noticed my struggling and calmly jumped into action. She checked my O2 level, which was 89% and hooked up the oxygen mask. She put me on 10 liters of oxygen and ordered a treatment. Dr. Ramakrishnan walked around the corner just at that time. He gave me an OMG look, I smiled at him and he just smiled back shaking his head. He and the anesthesiologists consulted about the dangers of continuing with surgery in my condition. They laid it out for me saying I could end up on the ventilator overnight or longer, they could get me off but need to keep me overnight, or they could cause damage while intubating me because of my low O2 & brochospasms. At the same time, Dr. Ramakrishnan said that this could be as good as I get & it is the reason I am here ~ to get better. I agreed without hesitation. After a lung x-ray they all agreed to move forward. I said good-bye to Mom as was rolled to the OR. Dr. Ramakrishnan said the surgery would take an hour and we were underway.
The next thing I recall is being in recovery with people all around me. I was really struggling to breathe ~ but NOT on the ventilator! One of the nurses looked at me with a sweet smile, grabbed my hand and said, "You're quite the fighter, Toni! Don't stop now! We don't want to intubate you again!" I just smiled back at her. They said they'd let my mom come back as soon as I was more stable. When Mom came back she looked so scared, like she'd lived through a horror movie. She told me the surery ended up taking over two hours. They had trouble itubating me safely to start with because my airway was already so constricted. (in emergency situations they don't hesistate, but for a surgery they don't like to be so brutal). Then, the area in my forehead, near my cranium and around my eyes was in worse condition than the CT revealed. He had to work much longer and more intricately to complete his work successfully. In the end, my lungs were not responding when they stopped the ventilator. It took time to get me off, but they were successful. When they did, my stats plummetted again quickly and were hovering the need for re-intubation. They wouldn't even let Mom come back to see me until they felt they had me out of the woods.
Eventually I was in a room with a beautiful view. Dr. Ramakrishnan said he'd likely release me early in the morning. It ended up being more like four in the afternoon because my lungs just weren't cooperating. While I was there I had the most caring nurses and techs you can imagine. They make you feel confident that they are on top of your care. They are always aware of your stats and take action within seconds of a problematic change.
 |
| My view... |
Since getting out recovery has been pretty smooth. My frustrating lungs have been the biggest obstacle for me. I've certainly had some pain due to the surgery, but have only taken one pain pill. They make me itch so intensely that even two Benedryl don't provide relief. I decided the pain is easier to handle than the itching! It was a pretty simple choice! :)
Tomorrow is a pretty big day. I'll admit I'm even a bit uneasy about it. I'm going back to National Jewish for lots of tests and my appointment with Dr. Olson. She's been my superhero through this battle. She has stuck with it and fought to solve the mystery of me. I'm looking forward to seeing her comforting face, but nervous about the tests. I know I'll get through... I just kinda wish I could fast forward this time! :)
Monday, October 10, 2011
Week One
I guess in a word, this first week was eye-opening. This trip has been quite different from recent ones in several ways. I guess since I'm more familiar with the city now, I'm even more interested in being part of it as an escape from the actual reason I'm here. That hasn't really been an option this time, which has made things a lot tougher than I anticipated. I'm missing home and friends more than ever and find myself going to bed as early as seven just to escape my own thoughts.
My appointments have been pretty routine. I had very in depth meetings with all the people that will be involved with my surgery. It was actually pretty interesting. They're taking extreme measures of caution because they're quite concerned about my unstable health condition. The biggest news is that Dr. Ramakrishnan, the ENT/surgeon insisted that I stop taking my aspirin. I've been on 1300 mg of aspirin for quite a long time now. Stopping the aspirin means I'll have to go through the desensitization again. (a two day intense procedure in the ICU) He cleared it with Dr. Olson - and I dropped it from my daily regimen. I'll find out when I meet with her more about her thoughts on dropping it for good or going through the desens again.
We were all surprised to find out how much of an impact the aspirin has had on my breathing. Of course we had hoped, but truly had no idea. About a day after stopping, my peak flows began to plummet - drastically. For these days leading up to the surgery, I've simply been doing everything I know to keep breathing and focus on the reason I'm here.
My appointments have been pretty routine. I had very in depth meetings with all the people that will be involved with my surgery. It was actually pretty interesting. They're taking extreme measures of caution because they're quite concerned about my unstable health condition. The biggest news is that Dr. Ramakrishnan, the ENT/surgeon insisted that I stop taking my aspirin. I've been on 1300 mg of aspirin for quite a long time now. Stopping the aspirin means I'll have to go through the desensitization again. (a two day intense procedure in the ICU) He cleared it with Dr. Olson - and I dropped it from my daily regimen. I'll find out when I meet with her more about her thoughts on dropping it for good or going through the desens again.
We were all surprised to find out how much of an impact the aspirin has had on my breathing. Of course we had hoped, but truly had no idea. About a day after stopping, my peak flows began to plummet - drastically. For these days leading up to the surgery, I've simply been doing everything I know to keep breathing and focus on the reason I'm here.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
ahhh, Colorado
I love this place. I don't really even understand why. I would have always described myself as a "country girl" at heart. I love nothing more than the beauty of land ~ rolling acres of green grassy land. I dream of owning land one day, just like I grew up on. With that part of me still completely alive, I lie in my bed here in the heart of Denver and realize I have fallen in love with this city. I love the sounds of the city coming through my open window throughout the night. I adore the beautiful lights, the fascinating neighborhoods and streets, the tiny shops nestled away, and the busiest downtown district. I love the view of the mountains as you walk down the sidewalk or drive to an appointment. And the sunshine ~ they aren't kidding about the amazing sunshine. It's hard to explain how different, how wonderful the weather is... daily.
As hard as what I'm about to face here might be, this setting is a true gift that will make each day a bit easier.
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