TROUBLE!! Part Six

Throughout my hospital stay, I was certain that when I got out, and got to the Family House where Mom and I could care for me, things in terms of my recovery would improve quickly. I figured in a more free, more pleasant environment, I'd start to heal faster. But I was also apprehensive about being able to care for myself until I had gained some strength back.

Several weeks prior to my procedure, I called a life-long friend, a person I call LB and I asked her if she could come visit me while in Pittsburgh. Since she lives in Providence, Rhode Island anyway, I didn't figure it would be a lot of traveling for her. It turned out to be just about as much as mine. But she agreed to come visit over the weekend of June 22. As it turned out, that was perfect - because I got out of the hospital the same day that she arrived, and even though she wasn't expecting it, she gladly jumped in and helped Mom help me get around the House.


I had been in the hospital ten days, and I still was not eating any solid food. I just couldn't get it to go down and nothing tasted good at all. Mom and LB lovingly attempted to get me to eat. Mom had been watching my weight literally crash down all the way to 128 pounds (I weighted 174 twelve days earlier), She had become frightened all over again, this time not about the cancer; not about the surgery but about my weight and the idea that I may starve to death or become so weak that my body would shut down or get ill. She became aggressive regarding my eating, but it didn't do any good. I simply could not eat.

Life at the House for me was nearly hell. It was extremely hard for me to get around. I had so much pain, that I could barely walk a few feet without having to squat or sit in a chair. After walking about ten steps, I noticed my heart rate would jump to about 160 beats per minute - and I felt woozy. Before leaving the hospital, I had imagined walking about the closer blocks of the city, and being able to move around a great deal easier than I had at the hospital. As it turned out, the only entertaining function I could even partly muster was walking down to the front porch and I couldn't always do even that. When I was able to get down to the porch, I had to rob pillows from other chairs in order to sit comfortably. Again, Mother was worried about me and wanted me to walk more than I was. I simply could not always do it.

I had also looked forward to driving around in the bus system visiting local attractions, but that was simply not possible. Most of what I could do is sleep and surf the Internet on my Iphone or laptop computer.

Another complication was the fact that I had severe "night sweats" every time I fell asleep for more than ten minutes. I sweated profusely, totally soaking my sheets, covers and mattress. Getting through the night was a matter of having about five sets of sheets and blankets in reserve. When I could no longer stand the cold, wet bed that I was sleeping in, I would get up in the cold, air conditioned night air, shivering and change my sheets and covers. I'd have to do this about five times. (This continued all the way into the first week back at Somerset (home). Then suddenly, one night, the night sweats simply did not come, and they've stayed away every since.)

Back at the Family House, Mom and LB were great. They did a good job caring for me. LB did a lot of the work, since my Mother had already been doing it for a month. It was a good break for Mom. While I mostly stayed in the room, Mom and LB spent a lot of time together, talking and simply "catching" up. LB is virtually my cousin and Mom's niece. She and I have the same Aunt, Uncle and cousins on one side of the family, but since the relation was by marriage, LB and I are not related. We had been very good friends since high school. She was such a unique girl, hanging out with my buddies and I instead of her own. My friends and I spent our entire time rock climbing, repelling, cave exploring, hiking and backpacking or canoeing. LB fit right in and was accepted as one of the fellows (even though she was and is a very attractive woman). Being so closely related to our family, Mom and LB also had a lifelong relationship. So they had a lot to talk about. They spent a lot of time on that fabulous front porch.

On two different occasions, I had episodes of extreme and debilitating pain, one of which actually caused me to pass out. On that episode, LB was with me in the room, and when I passed out (I wasn't even aware of passing out), LB ran down to the porch to get Mother. I can't explain those pain episodes. At the time, we considered them normal. But looking back, we understand that they were not normal and would eventually lead to great trouble.

Sunday came at the Family House, and LB had to return to Providence that afternoon. It had been so good having her with us, and I think she valued being with us, helping out. I hated to see her go.

The next day, Monday (I had been discharged the previous Friday) we were supposed to see Dr. Bartlett. He could potentially let us go home to Kentucky, but I knew that would not happen, no matter how badly I wanted it to happen. I was too weak and in too much pain. There was no way I could fly home. Early that morning, I told Mom that we needed to call Dr. Bartlett's office and tell them about all of the pain, and get them to take an X-ray prior to our meeting with him. Bartlett's nurse asked us to come in as soon as possible and so we did. My memory of this morning is a little foggy, but I think as we tried to get down stairs to catch the cab, I couldn't make it. So we ended up calling an ambulance I think at the recommendations of the Family House Staff.

Once at the hospital, the X-Ray was taken and then we meet with Dr. Chaudhury. I was shocked when he told me that they were going to re-admit me to the hospital. I was truly shocked and I started crying. I asked him how long I would have to stay, and he said at least a week. The news was so extremely undesired; it instantly forced me back into a meditative mood. Specifically, as described in an earlier installment of this story, I began to accept my condition, and look at only what was directly in front of me and nothing more. At that point, I simply had to get through the day - my first day of my second hospitalization. (Unfortunately, instead of being told we could go home, I was put back in the hospital).

My room this time was on the same floor (post-surgical), and while it was only a couple of doors down from my previous room, it was on the other side of the hall. Instead of that wonderful window and view of Pittsburgh, I simply had a view of a brick building about one hundred feet across a grassy area. The room was also smaller, and I half wondered if the nursing staff was punishing me for something I did during my first stay, or something else. Of course this was not the case and only a symptom of my paranoia. Mother didn't care for the room. It was much smaller and so it's size would affect her more than me. She also did not like the view, nor did I. But I was in an acceptance mood, so I just moved forward minute by minute.

The rest of that day and the next day was medical observation time and IV therapy. I had a few X-rays and a few CT Scans. It was interesting how they conducted the various testings the patients needed. The nurse's station would get an order from my doctor for whatever test, then the station would call a hospital organization called "patient transportation". The medical facility was absolutely enormous, and the various testing centers were usually located some distance from a patients unit. The nurses would prepare a transportation bed just outside my room, get me into it, and I would lie there and wait for a member of the transportation staff to come and get me. Some of the people were wonderful, chatty and pleasant. Others were not. Upon arriving at our destination, in my case, an imaging center where I would have a CT scan, the transporter would hand the staff my medical file and then leave me there. Sometimes I had to lay there in the waiting room for some time. Other patients would be there, most of whom were also inpatients and also in beds like me. An odd feature of being in the hospital - patients rarely talked to each other. Not sure why, but when I'd try to start a conversation with a fellow, it simply wouldn't go anywhere.

After the scans, the imaging center staff would call Patient Transportation, just like my own nursing unit had done for the inbound trip. They'd do this of course, to take me back to my unit. I normally had to wait some time for the transporter to arrive.

EMERGENCY!!

During the middle of the night on the second night back in the hospital, I was asleep, and I began to have pain in the left side of my abdomen. As I slowly awoke, I dreamily thought to myself, surely that is not me hurting so terribly. When I became fully awake, I was in excruciating pain. I pushed the nurse call button and all I could muster was "PAIN, PAIN, PAIN". Thankfully, two nurses quickly arrived - two of my favorites. Jason and Lakisha. Jason, on my right side was preparing a syringe while Lakisha was talking to me, attempting to calm me down from the terrible pain.

Suddenly I felt hot wetness on my abdomen and then I heard Lakisha tell Jason that I was bleeding profusely. Obviously, something inside my abdomen had failed and blood started to flow out of my surgical wound. (Now we knew the source of my bouts of pain at the Family House). Not seconds later, this time in a panicky tone of voice, Lakisha said "Oh my gosh, he's bleeding badly!". Jason took a look and saw that within just seconds, my bed had nearly filled with blood. Nervously and shaking, Jason laid the syringe down, picked up the phone and called in an emergency using various codes. I heard the emergency almost instantly come across the hospital intercom. I was frightened and still in horrible, unspeakable pain and Jason had been unable to administer the pain medication.

Within about two minutes, my room filled with about four or five members of an emergency response team. They reformed my room in about ten seconds to a temporary "operating room". As they began to work on me, they took my vital signs in a continual fashion, and my blood pressure was extremely low and falling fast. The emergency team were flashing out overlapping orders just like on TV. I thought to myself, boy JT; you're in trouble now. The pain was like nothing I had ever experienced, and I was fully awake, and without pain relief. I could hear every word the team was saying, I went into my meditation mode. Once in a meditative state, I knew that I might bleed to death, because they kept calling out my blood pressure and it was crashing fast. But even though I was frightened earlier, that had faded to a mere concern. Through my meditation, I was able to realize that this would end. I would not or could not last forever. I took comfort in that. I listened as the lead surgeon called for four units of blood "stat" (I think it was four units) and he also ordered a crash cart. Within just a few minutes, my blood pressure stopped falling, so they prepared me and moved me to the nearest ICU, which happened to be a transplant unit. The staff there joined the hospital emergency staff that had attended to me back in my own room. Ten to fifteen minutes went by as the surgeons worked on me. I have no idea what they were doing. Every since I first started bleeding, I refused to look down at my abdomen.

As the surgeons worked on me, I asked one of them if I could have something for pain relief. He said no, that would be quite impossible. He said, "Mr. Thompson, it is important for you to fight as hard as you can. This will keep your blood pressure from falling faster, and if I give your pain meds, you'd stop resisting, and you'd probably die."

Eventually, some time later, my vital signs stabilized (blood pressure returned to normal) and the emergency staff dusted off and went on their way. I was out of danger. The ICU nurses were now free to administer pain relief, and I settled in for a long stay in ICU.

The hospital called my mother at the Family House at 2:30 AM and even went to pick her up. They let her see me only briefly and then sent her to the waiting room where she stayed for several hours. Mom's role in all of this was very hard on her, and there is no way for me to ever express what her presence meant to my recovery, and even survival.

I languished in the ICU for three days, while the doctors observed me. Then I got a visit from Dr. Chaudhury. He said that they had decided to perform a second surgery. He further said that CT scans indicated that there was a large blood clot in the left side of my abdomen and a pocket of blood. I asked him if it would be in the same wound as the first and he said yes, it would. It was hard for me to imagine what that would be like…. But I'd be asleep, so it would not matter.

I did not want to have to have a second surgery! But like everything else, I had to accept it as my current situation, and move forward with what was directly in front of me.