The Shocking Beginning
On September 4, 2008 my life changed so drastically that I have not nor will I ever be the same. I started out by check my blood pressure (130/60), eat breakfast, iron my work shirt and go to work. I'm the manager of the Living Well Department at a fantastic "more-than-a-grocery-store" called Market Street. The day starts with orders, cleaning and checking on what's happened while I was out of town for a week.
By noon I'm not feeling as good as I would like to so I go to the other end of the store for my favorite pick-me-up which is an Acai Smoothie from the coffee shop. But several people take a closer look and notice that something is outwardly very wrong. I keep insisting that I will be fine and become frustrated at all the worried looks I'm getting. I keep making excuses and claim that it is simply a passing gallbladder attack and all I need is time (and space).
Within 30 minutes I realize that I cannot walk back to my department and someone comes to let me know that I AM going home and she is the one taking me. I ask her to bring me my belongings from my desk and I agree to let her take me back to the apartment. The turning point comes as we start to leave the parking lot and I suddenly begin to throw up. In an effort to avoid messing up her nice truck I open the door. Everytime I think I am done more nausea floods over me. I can't say much but I do tell her that she better not take me home but to the hospital instead. Knowing that nausea is a sign of serious gallbadder problems had prompted me earlier to make a promise to my roommate to go straigth to the doctor or ER if I am ever nauseated. We discuss which hospital and I agree that Baylor Grapevine would be my preference but I have no idea where it is. Fortunately, the driver knows and I try to hold onto my stomach.
We arrived at the ER and my friend jumps from the car to retreive a wheelchair and bucket. I remember her rushing me into the ER where I think they will make me wait out in the lobby while throwing up my toe nails but I am quickly usherd into a triage room without even being asked my name.
It is from here where my memory gets foggy and I can go only by what I've been told. While violently throwing up they atttempt to take my blood pressure and get me to lay down but I panic because suddenly I'm not able to breathe. Each time I am forced to lay back I spring back up because it feels like I am drowning. Suddenly the room fills with several ER nurses, interns and a doctor and I feel an oxygen mask strapped to my face forcing air into my lungs while fluid seems to be rising to the top. The feeling of drowning increases and I think I am screaming, "I can't breathe!" Later my friend, who is standing back in the corner watching, says I didn't say anything but there was fear all over my face.
I wake up in the ICU with more tubes and a face mask. I have no idea what has taken place but I am hearing phrases like "Acute Pulmonary Adema" and "Congestive Heart Failure" from the nurse standing by my bed. I'm looking for my friends or family but they are still outside the room waiting to come in. I especially want to talk to my roommate because she is a Cardiac nurse and I'm counting on her to interpret what I've just experienced and what it all means.
I have just entered the world of heart disease, surgeries and challenges with the suddeness of a tornado but without the warning. I am laying there oblivious to the challenges that will continue into and through March of 2009. I describe the next eight months as "the unthinkable."
From the Heart,
Kathleen
By noon I'm not feeling as good as I would like to so I go to the other end of the store for my favorite pick-me-up which is an Acai Smoothie from the coffee shop. But several people take a closer look and notice that something is outwardly very wrong. I keep insisting that I will be fine and become frustrated at all the worried looks I'm getting. I keep making excuses and claim that it is simply a passing gallbladder attack and all I need is time (and space).
Within 30 minutes I realize that I cannot walk back to my department and someone comes to let me know that I AM going home and she is the one taking me. I ask her to bring me my belongings from my desk and I agree to let her take me back to the apartment. The turning point comes as we start to leave the parking lot and I suddenly begin to throw up. In an effort to avoid messing up her nice truck I open the door. Everytime I think I am done more nausea floods over me. I can't say much but I do tell her that she better not take me home but to the hospital instead. Knowing that nausea is a sign of serious gallbadder problems had prompted me earlier to make a promise to my roommate to go straigth to the doctor or ER if I am ever nauseated. We discuss which hospital and I agree that Baylor Grapevine would be my preference but I have no idea where it is. Fortunately, the driver knows and I try to hold onto my stomach.
We arrived at the ER and my friend jumps from the car to retreive a wheelchair and bucket. I remember her rushing me into the ER where I think they will make me wait out in the lobby while throwing up my toe nails but I am quickly usherd into a triage room without even being asked my name.
It is from here where my memory gets foggy and I can go only by what I've been told. While violently throwing up they atttempt to take my blood pressure and get me to lay down but I panic because suddenly I'm not able to breathe. Each time I am forced to lay back I spring back up because it feels like I am drowning. Suddenly the room fills with several ER nurses, interns and a doctor and I feel an oxygen mask strapped to my face forcing air into my lungs while fluid seems to be rising to the top. The feeling of drowning increases and I think I am screaming, "I can't breathe!" Later my friend, who is standing back in the corner watching, says I didn't say anything but there was fear all over my face.
I wake up in the ICU with more tubes and a face mask. I have no idea what has taken place but I am hearing phrases like "Acute Pulmonary Adema" and "Congestive Heart Failure" from the nurse standing by my bed. I'm looking for my friends or family but they are still outside the room waiting to come in. I especially want to talk to my roommate because she is a Cardiac nurse and I'm counting on her to interpret what I've just experienced and what it all means.
I have just entered the world of heart disease, surgeries and challenges with the suddeness of a tornado but without the warning. I am laying there oblivious to the challenges that will continue into and through March of 2009. I describe the next eight months as "the unthinkable."
From the Heart,
Kathleen
posted by LyghteKeeper @ 1:38 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home