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.
