The Worst Day of My Life

And so I arrived at a hospital in the San Antonio Medical Center, where I was settled in a room in the intensive care unit sometime around 6am.  Surgery was scheduled at some as yet unspecified time later that day.  Finally, I was wheeled down to the ER at around 1:30. 

Allegedly, according to witnesses, I was brought back to ICU a bit over 6 hours later.  Having still been unconscious at the time, I couldn't say for certain.  Nor can I say with any certainty when I did awaken, but I can testify that it is an experience I never want to go through again. 

It seems I don't take well to being restrained.  Well, I awakened with a ventilator tube down my throat and both wrists strapped to the bed rails.  Unable to speak, control my breathing, move my arms, or even gesture meaningfully, I very nearly went into complete panic.  I was able to keep myself under control through sheer willpower, and the memory of my surgeon's promise that the ventilator tube would be removed "shortly after I was aware enough to know it was there." 

Well, he lied.  When I realized there was a nurse at my bed, I attempted to point at the tube and tried to gesture that I'd like it removed.  The nurse got the point, but put me off and left the room again.  I can't say exactly how long I lay there trying not to fight the ventilator or my restraints, but it had to be something over an hour.  That is not what I call "shortly."

But finally they deigned to let me breathe on my own.  The actual removal of the breathing tube was unpleasant but quick.  The steps leading up to it were another sort of hell, involving the partial removal of another device, which was left dangling loosely in the throat, at just the right spot to trigger my gag reflex.  That seemed to go on forever, but was probably no more than a few minutes before they finally removed it and the breathing tube. 

At last, my throat was clear.  And dry, as dry as I can recall ever being.  I begged the nurse for water, for ice chips, for something that would give me some relief, but was ignored.  I remained in yet another form of agony until my wife got some gauze and soaked it in water for me to suck on. 

From what I understand, my chances of surviving my sojourn on the operating table had been a whopping 70%. 

"Ok, I'll Just Go Home and Die."

So, when I left off, I was in need of a double bypass if I was going to live much longer.  Our local hospital in New Braunfels didn't have the capacity to handle the procedure anytime soon, so arrangements were begun to transfer me to San Antonio.  As far as any of us knew, it was just a matter of waiting for a bed to be available.  While we were waiting, my wife got a call from the other hospital, informing her that a $10,000 advance payment would be required before I could be transported.  It was at this point that I uttered the title to this post. 

Fortunately, that minor little difficulty was smoothed over, and at 5am the next morning (July 16) I was loaded into an ambulance and taken on a trip down the highway. 

The Beginning, or How It Almost Ended

In November of last year, I had a transient ischemic attack, basically a mini-stroke.  The whole right side of my body was going numb, leading to a trip to the emergency room.  I was found to have extremely high blood pressure, and given IV drugs to bring it down.  But by the time I was admitted to the hospital, the symptoms had disappeared.  EKGs, cardiac enzyme tests, and eventually (3 months later, after another attack) an MRI were performed, finding no likely cause other than my blood pressure and somewhat elevated cholesterol. 

Since then, I had been under regular doctor's care, primarily to control my blood pressure.  My blood pressure came down to normal levels, but my cholesterol and triglycerides shot up, despite the fact that I was being more careful with my diet than I had been before.  As a result, I was placed on an additional drug regimen to deal with those problems. 

Then, on July 13th, 2010, I just stepped out of the shower prior to getting dressed for work when I felt a severe pain in my chest, radiating down my right arm.  I had previously bought a home blood pressure monitor, so I checked.  My BP was 197/127, higher than I had ever seen it.  So, it was off to the emergency room again. 

My symptoms had passed by the time I entered the ER.  Still, I was admitted to the hospital, and a series of cardiac enzyme tests showed that I had indeed had a heart attack.  A cardiac catheterization test showed that I had severe blockages in 2 arteries leading to my heart. 

I later learned that 60% of patients in my condition don't even survive to make it to the emergency room.