Part 151 Passing the test


I struggle to tolerate the wires inside me and try to stifle the urges to vomit as day breaks. The news is filled with the desperation of Khadafy and his crumbling regime, mixed with reports of earthquakes in Virginia. Dr. Bl- doesn’t make her usual and therefore expected early morning round to see me, so I can’t beg her to pull my wires off. I am very tired and impatient to leave. My mucous is getting worse it seems. In addition, the new nurse Sandy is taking some getting used to. She is tall and stocky, towering over me, and seems to have difficulty hearing me. I raise my voice once and she abruptly says, “don’t talk to me that way”. I apologize, and after I adapt to her rhythms, we get along okay. At night, an attractive Oriental nurse comes in to oversee me as I struggle to fall asleep. When I do, my evening is filled with sexual fantasies, so I must be feeling better.

At six a.m., Jim whisks me out out of the sleep that finally came, with news that they will be conducting a series of upper GI studies ASAP. I mentally fake tossing a football to him and ask if it is real ASAP time or hospital ASAP. My nurse this morning is now a sophisticated African American lady who spends as much time tidying my room as housekeeping does. What a pleasant surprise.

Dr. Bl- comes in, clips the bridal on my nose, and once again, some blessed relief from its constraints after I choke briefly as the wire falls inside me. Then its time for the swallow study again. This time, after so many dismal trials and failures, I pass. Dr. B-, Jim, and the radiologist all say no leaks. “Perfect” is the word I have waited so long to hear. “Discharged” follows, and sounds just as sweet.

My lunch consists of cream of wheat, lemon yoghurt, lemonade, orange juice (the sweet stuff that not long ago Bl- wouldn’t let me near) and chocolate ice cream. Under the circumstances, it is wonderful.

By mid afternoon, our car is heading for home.

Part 150 “The hits keep coming”, or, back to the house of blues


Friday morning I awake with the what-has-become-usual nausea. I take a trip to the medical center to see Dr. Bl-. She has just come back from Fort Lauderdale, but takes time in her office to place a drain in my neck to attempt to alleviate my discomfort. She feels this mucous from my throat could be draining into my system and causing the nausea. She looks me over and decides that I need another stay in the hospital due to my illness and due to my apparent state of dehydration. I am instantly dejected, knowing that if I am admitted today I am in for at least the whole weekend (since everyone crucial to my case will be off until Monday).

That day, however, I get some good news. The CAT scan that was done shows no internal leaking in the esophageal area. My swallowing also looks good.

Waking alone on Saturday morning I still have no relief from the nausea, despite a change in meds. The mucous and dry heaves are becoming old, unwelcomed visitors who won’t go home. Dr. Ki- asserts that there may be leakage from my throat site that is contributing to my nausea, and a stent placed in the throat may be necessary in order to catch the drainage.

I have observed that, ironically, as soon as the nausea intensified, my feeding tube quit leaking. I look for a connection, but cannot discover one.

By weekend’s close I am improved a little, but some retching continues. More irony: just when I get cleared to eat and drink, I’m told not to do so at the hospital until this problem is resolved.

Late in the evening I move in the bed and accidentally pull out the j-tube. I push the button until a nurse comes in to assist me, but she refuses to put it back in (liability issues). Instead, we must summon a physician and wait for his orders. I tell my nurse in an irritated tone that if my wife can reposition a tube then certainly a nurse can, but she refuses. Because of the limited flexibility in my left hand that remains from the TIA over a year ago, I am unable to fix the problem myself. Finally the doctor arrives, and with little effort my tube is back in.

Monday morning means the first day back to school for my children. But I am here in the hospital, unable to see them off. Dr. Ki- and the resident Jim appear abruptly in the afternoon intent on placing the stent in my neck to divert the mucous from causing me to be nauseous. I amazingly undergo the fastest and easiest procedure to date. I am the only one in the prep room (causing me to wonder if I have drifted into an alternative universe). A few words from nurses and techs and off I go.

Dr. Bl- would later tell Becah that my entire throat looked great, along with the esophagus, and she thought the tiny hole in my throat would have healed by itself. Dr. Ki- had made the call already for a stent, though, and she would not override that.

Back in my room I am comfortable except for the wires in my nose that drop back into my throat to keep the stent in position. I must often suppress the urge to gag. At midnight I awake, cough and throw up a few times (a mixture of mucous and other strange substances). I celebrate one perk: I am on a clear liquid diet and get my Sprite, which I have been recently craving.

In the early morning hours I watch CNN televising how the Lybian dictator Khadafy is watching his country slip out of his fingers. And I thought I had problems...

Part 149 Standing (but mostly lying) on shaky ground


I wobble up the next day with brief nausea and excessive mucous after awaking twice at night to change leaky bandages. I weigh in at a disturbing 145.9 pounds. I manage to get in two and one-half hours at work before driving to the medical center to see Bl-. Brooke entertains her there (addressing Bl- as “hey baby” on one occasion). We traveled afterward to CC's house, where I rested while the others attended a party at Houston Baptist University. Back at home later I attempted eating a little cheddar soup, fighting off nausea until I went to bed.

The next day looks much the same. I try a little eggs, applesauce, and chocolate milk for breakfast before putting in a few hours at work. A speech therapy appointment follows, but I must leave early due to my feeling nauseous from excessive mucous. I lay and rest at home, taking more Phenergen in an unsuccessful effort to relieve the queasiness. The yoghurt I attempt to eat doesn’t work too well, and by six o’clock I am heaving. This condition has abated little by nine at night. Becah is upset, worrying that this far after my release from the hospital I am still in such shape.

I sleep well through the night but awake still feeling sick. I take more Phenergen, reluctantly so since it isn’t working well and just makes me sleepy to boot. GG goes to the pharmacy to retrieve a new med she had a physician call in the night before. By shortly after noon I am in the grasp of a major volley of heaves. I desperately attempt to climb out of bed to check some work emails, but still get no relief. In the midst of this, I remember it is my youngest daughter’s first day back to preschool, and I wonder how she is faring. Becah is doing a presentation at work. Everyone is off doing something useful, except me. I linger here feeling worse each minute. My weight has actually dropped to a new out-of-hospital low of 143.8 pounds. Just when I ask, “what next?”, the phone rings and my mother informs me her physicians think she has a malignancy in one lung.

Becah arrives at home later, confronting me about being more actively involved with my kids. I feel like life is kicking me around.

One bright spot, though. My blood pressure is a strong 121/85, and my voice is clear.

Part 148 The haunted tube


I get up the next morning, and with effort, manage to drag myself in to work about 8:45. I am totally lacking in energy, and I have to force myself to just get out of bed. Bathing, eating, and getting dressed, activities that we do by rote, now require some effort to complete. I tell my tales of woe to whoever will listen. At 11:00 I leave, heading with Becah and the kids to meet with Dr. Bl-’s assistant, Allison. All morning, from work to the long medical center drive, through the meeting, my tube works perfectly, even as I complain to Allison about how horrible it is and how it won’t quit leaking. We stop in at Quizno’s to get Becah a sandwich and the leaking immediately starts. Becah changes the bandage and we proceed to Dr. Be-’s office for a swallow study.

By now just the mention of this fills me with apprehension. This time, though, I experience some success – Dr. Be- reports that my throat looks good, and I am swallowing 75-80% of my food well (what is happening to the 20-25%, though?). She suggests that I practice on small amounts of smooth, creamy foods initially. She also reassures me that the hoarseness in my voice will improve in a week or so.

We stop for yoghurt before going home. I am exhausted upon returning, this being my most active day out in a long time.

Part 147 The ship leaks, the sky leaks


I may be better in the morning, but little Brooke continues to have fears whenever Becah or I are out of sight. Becah leaves with the kids for a party and takes GG back to her home. While they are gone, I listen to the Beatles’ “Yellow Submarine” and Buffalo Springfield’s “Last Time Around”. I am buoyed by the music and happy that my nausea has abated. However, the tube abruptly leaks profusely. I piecemealed a bandage as best as I could, until Becah returned with the kids and fashioned a better one.

Brooke wants to watch “Lord of the Rings” again. I watch a little with her, enjoying both her closeness with her and, despite all the times we’ve seen it, the movie. Later I view “The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance”, the greatest western ever.

Becah is feeling the stress of caring for three persons, so I prepare dinner for the family. Bree is excited by my efforts, as she remembers the days when I routinely cooked.

After a rough night getting to sleep initially, I rest well during the night (only awaking once!). I am still fatigued in the morning. After hearing a sad sermon at church, I steer the family home in my first driving effort since my hospitalization.

Becah and I lie on the bed, tensions mounting as we discuss my ability (or not) to return to work the next week. My voice is still hoarse when I talk. We take a brief nap, to be awakened by a burst of distant thunder, signaling the coming rainstorm, which is the first precipitation in some time for this arid summer.

After a bit, we start up a game of checkers with Bree. Soon I am detecting a foul odor emulating from the j-tube. GG has returned to stay with us, and she feels this could indicate an infection in the area. I can take no more of this, and make my feelings known. Breanna dances for everyone in the den to attempt to lighten the mood. At the end of the evening, I kick back with more reading of “Watership Down”, and somehow drift off to sleep in a better state.

Part 146 Joybreak

Dr. Be- announces that the procedure went “wonderfully”. Images reveal a healthy vocal cord and entire throat area. She has given me an injection that will temporarily facilitate the functioning of my vocal cord (after which time she feels the cord should completely heal on its own). If needed, Dr. Be- will perform another procedure; however, she doubts this will be necessary.

What is equally amazing with all this great news is the fact that I arrived at the hospital at 11:30, was prepped and with surgery started by 12:50, and am kicked back at home on the couch by 4:00! I watch TV with Brooke, who observes that I am looking better. CC drops by to visit. My tube is not leaking, much to my joy. Maybe the no-stick Ace bandage is doing the trick. Becah changes it at 8:30 – the first change since 10:30 this morning, and I am elated that it looks so good and that we made it this many hours on one bandage.

This is the best day for me in some time. My physical shape is improving, and my mood is downright optimistic.

Appreciate the good moments. Never take them for granted. You never know when you will be sideswiped by changes, like I am the following morning. I awake at 4:30 feeling nauseous, and throw up shortly after. The excessive mucous kicks in again a little later. I feel weaker today (but with a weight of only 142, it would be hard to feel strong). As the morning progresses, so does my coughing up phlegm and feeling ill. I pop Phenergen to attack the nausea, but it has little effect on it and really only makes me sleepier. I drift in and out of awareness (not always a bad thing). By mid afternoon I am reduced to bouts of dry heaving and battling more mucous. I feel warm but have no fever. It is heartbreaking to have such a turn of events immediately following such an upswing yesterday.

Brookie is starting to complain more of somatic ailments. She panics if either I or Becah leave her vicinity for even brief moments. All this is taking its toll on her.

I am worried that all the coughing and retching is hurting my fragile vocal cords. Becah contacts Dr. Be-, who feels that the cords should be sufficiently strong enough at this point to handle stress. Which is good, because by early evening I am heaving again and trying anti-nausea meds, desperately seeking something that will work.