THB Moves Over to Concord

QOTD:

Oh a false clock tries to tick out my time
To disgrace, distract, and bother me
And the dirt of gossip blows into my face
And the dust of rumors covers me
But if the arrow is straight
And the point is slick
It can pierce through dust no matter how thick
So I’ll make my stand
And remain as I am
And bid farewell and not give a damn

{HAH: for you skimmers, you have to scroll down to the bottom of this post to find out what happens, and YOU know who you are!)

BIG NEWS (no, not the diagnosis, you have skip to the bottom of this posting to find out what happened on that front): K&E are the high-bidders on the first house they bid on, and if they can finalize the deal, they will be living in Danville, less than 30 minutes from E-ville in non-commute hours. DAMN, inside of 13 months and both daughters will be among the landed gentry.

Book Review: The Last Man in Russia: The Struggle to Save a Dying Nation, Oliver Bullough. Using a priest whose life spanned pretty much the existence of the Soviet Union, the author illustrates the fate awaiting those who cannot liberate themselves from totalitarian governments: the obvious issue being that disenfranchisement means shorter life spans and lower birth rates (quite a topic for THB while in the hospital)

Department of Clarification #1: Along with Nexcium and Xanax, Maeve also ruled out mint, tomatoes, citrus, alcohol and coffee; is that any way to live? THB thinks not….

Department of Clarfication #2: Along with all those other spots, THB also ate at State Bird Provision with R & H (nice of them to include us!)

Where was THB? Oh yeah, he was in Doc Wulff’s office, along with DB, who is listening and watching acutely while THB is thinking that he is lightheaded and a failure. First thing the doc does: puts a nitroglycerin pill under THB’s tongue. Then he takes the history (THB will spare the repetition here, though he forgot to leave out one pertinent family story: his maternal uncle had a stent put in, immediately after having lunch with THB at the Zuni…how did THB forget that? He never forgets a meal!), and sez: you can either go to the emergency room right now and have angioplasty next day or you can go to emergency room right now and have an angiogram the next day. Angioplasty gives about an 85% chance of finding root cause, angiogram almost sure to say what is causing the problem (for those of you extra sharp readers, heartburn and indigestion have been ruled out, THB has a heart problem), and the outcomes can range from still not sure to triple bypass to (about 1 in 2000...true?) something worse (death?). THB is not really listening with full attention anymore, and DB is doing her job and ultra-analyzing what we’re hearing.

 

It took the EMTs longer to load THB than transport him

THB is no longer in control of his own destiny (he is still in his running shorts, though, and thinking he could make a break for it). And, since he is going to be admitted to the hospital, the doc is obligated to call the EMTs and get THB to the ER in an ambulance (THB would’ve walked, he was in his running shorts!). Wow, this is THB’s first ever ride in an ambulance!! Amazing, and since the hospital ER is across the Doc’s parking lot (true!), the buckling of THB onto the gurney takes longer than the ride. Oh, and the EMTs give THB another nitroglycerin under the tongue, and four baby aspirin. Finally, the mountain of pain has gone away.

 

The full ER look

We hit the ER around 5 or so, meet a doc who does a decent job of explaining what’s going to happen, and a rookie (it had to be her first patient) tries to get a needle into one of THB’s veins for blood samples. Fortunately, Nurse Mike takes over. It’s a good thing, because it turns out blood work is a huge indicator of problems, and THB finds out later he does have problems: 1.78 treponin (sp?) levels vs norm of .6. At this point, THB also gets to switch from running shorts to a hospital gown. And, at this point, THB also remembers to introduce his lovely wife, DB, to everyone who appears (this is many a soul, THB meets many care-givers in the ensuing hours).

Also, so starts the crush of paperwork sign-offs (THB should’ve brought a stamp). It is also where THB learns his mantra: 2-2-49. The only real confirmation they want to hear is your b’day. By the end of the stay (some time in your distant reading future), THB is starting the conversations with people he’s never met with 2-2-49 (and sure enough, the very last person to show up to take blood, nearing the end of his stay, says, Oh, that’s not right and leaves). THB also gets a beta-blocker (which THB and DB are trying to keep track of the drugs THB is getting, and miss this one, if it was given, the “real” name…it turns out to be something like methoprol or lo-pressor, maybe).

 

THB got many a foot massage: they are testing for a pulse

Nurse Wendy is in charge of THB in the ER. KB shows up with pizza and salad, LB shows up for additional moral support, and we all get to listen to  first a drug addict loudly bemoan his pain and then a guy with pneumonia loudly bemoan his fate. Around 8, the admitting doc (after reviewing history one more time) gives more of the same info as to what will happen (oh, and admits THB), and around 9:15 or so KB and LB depart, DB leaves around 9:45, and at 10pm THB is wheeled upstairs (and gurney guy manages to leave THB’s paperwork in the ER) and THB is in bed around 10:30, having been weighed twice (once in bed, once standing, both say 185), attached to an IV, attached to a heart monitor, and put to bed.

 

THB's room in Walnut Creek

Several times during the night, THB is awoken: one time for shot in the stomach and two different medications (lovenox? Blood thinner?) and Lipitor (cholesterol)  and Plavix (??), sometimes to check vital signs, multiple times to take blood, sometimes to…to….THB lost track. THB’s fave visit: the blood guy who said he wasn’t sick, he was allergic to what they use to wash the floors in the wee hours of the morning AND would THB mind taking off the bandaids from prior blood tests (THB was surprised the guy didn’t have him put the needle in the vein also). Oh, and in morning, THB now weighs 183, so IV diet seems to be working. He also gets his levoxyl (thyroid) meds just like at home, very nice!

Quick note: the on duty night staff (May, Sam and Eleanor) all uniformly patient, cheerful and informative (if they know something, they share; if not, they say they don’t know and will find out). They generally work a 7-7 shift.

My lovely wife, DB, re-appears, her sleep was about as bad as THB’s, and Doc Wulff arrives with the details: the blood don’t lie, it’s an angiogram at around noon at a sister John Muir facility that specializes in cardiology. He tells us that all those analyzed blood samples confirm (actually more accurately show) what the Stress Test showed:  THB has a real problem (even if it is atypical, with only the one symptom: GIANT chest pain). Hey, THB is atypical…who could’ve guessed that!

Just about a half hour before departure time, a very strange thing happens. A 50-ish dark-haired woman purells herself just outside THB’s room, walks in and says “I’m the chaplain, would you like to talk” in a very gentle voice. THB is actually in shock!! First, THB is about as non-religious as you can get, so non-religious that he would be categorized as anti-religious. Second, THB is struck by the timing. Sort of like: are you here to administer the last rites? I’m due in surgery soon, damn soon. THB isn’t really mad at the chaplain, THB is mad that on all the forms pushed in front of him, none had a box that you could check that said: NO religious contact.

Another thriller: THB gets his second ambulance ride in two days!! This one lasts about 20 minutes or so, from Walnut Creek to Concord. THB is plunked down in the Operating Room prep area where he is stripped and shaved (let us just say that THB no longer needs to go to the dermatologist to get those annoying little tags removed from his chest or groin), has his monitor buttons ripped off and replaced with new non-metallic monitor buttons, and at 11:30 is rushed to the OR so fast that both THB and DB realize independently that they didn’t get that last I LOVE YOU in before surgery (it, after all, could be the last time THB can effectively communicate such without using eyeball twitches).

Sample of  heart monitor

A team of 3 (or is it 4) finish getting THB in position, including wrapping a gigantic ace bandage around him and the operating table twice, pinning his arms to his sides (a good thing, nobody has asked about his essential tremors!! Can’t you just see Doc Wulff saying: is he having a problem or just waving at me???). At noon, THB does his usual “I’m stuck here, may as well close my eyes and relax” routine, they start poking at his groin and talking about what THB thinks is something to do with the hospital cafeteria, and at 12:30 (or so), THB is told he’s good to go (well, first they have to unwrap his giant ace bandage and move to him to another gurney) and is whisked back into the OR waiting area.

 

The hole in the groin

According to the accounts of others (Doc Wulff talked to DB, KB, and LB), the operation went well: THB had one artery that was handling smaller volume that the other two (those other two arteries were poster boy specimens for lifelong workouts) and thus needed a stent put in place. My lovely wife, DB, thinks of it as a three lane road narrowing into a one lane road. Hmmmmm…90% blockage, which seems more like what a 5 lane highway looks like after New Jersey gets done narrowing the traffic onto some insignificant bridge leading into Manhattan. 

The hole in the groin cover-up

For the next six hours, THB has to keep his right leg straight (the right groin was the entry point) and his neck straight (to avoid doing any “sit-up” like motions). He starts getting a slight pain in his back (from the awkward position) and notices a slight concern when taking an extra large deep breath. On the positive side, THB can now enjoy the sandwiches and cookies brought by LB. He is feeling much, much better.

 

THB dressed for the ride home

At around 8, DB heads home. The night nurse takes off THB’s monitors (and thus THB can start typing again), gives THB a slight sleeping pill and beta blocker, and off to never-never land THB goes. A shout out to Brenda Sue and especially Jen, the nurses that nursed THB from hole in the groin to E-ville.

Skimmers: we’re near the end, you can pick up here. My lovely wife, DB, appears with Arizmendi pastry and coffee (now back on the “you can eat it list”), and a nursing assistant for Doc Wullf appears and THB gets the scoop (and a copy of the report) from her. What’s up next: cardiology therapy for 12 weeks and lots of drugs. A generic for Lipitor, Metorprolol (a beta blocker), baby aspirin forever, and Brilantia (a new drug for keeping the stent from failing, for one year).

 

The chest hair of a 12 year old; note they did NOT shave the stomach

The new drug regime

From stress test to home with a new stent: 43 hours. Oh, and since THB turned 6-5 after all this started up, it looks like that between Medicare and Anthem Blue Cross supplement, THB’s out of pocket will be just one hole in his groin. 

And, THB's big revelation: at the beginning of this saga, he should have got off his bike, called 911, then called DB. For men of a certain age, pain like that is not to be ignored, even if it turns out to be "just" heartburn or indigestion. And, then, THB should have listened to DB when he arrived and said, No, I am not okay. It was too late then, THB had made up his mind, he was going to move on, not ask for help. WRONG!

As always, thanks again to my lovely wife who did all the right things, asked all the right questions, and realized that the last kiss may really be the last kiss