Emergency to Surgery: Part 10

After our short nap and having some fabulous pizza delivered, we went right back to the hospital.

Thankfully, my mom arrived soon after, picked up the kids and brought me a couple of changes of clothes, just in case things didn't straighten out as soon as we thought they should.

---

The next morning the doctor told us exactly how things weren't straightening out.  For starters, Anne-Marie would be there until at least Monday (two more days), and if the infection that was found in the CT scan didn't get better, they would send her into emergency surgery.

We begged them to give us more time to let the antibiotics kill the infection.  Surely by Monday things would regulate enough for us to go home.  Anne-Marie already had a surgery planned a few months later and didn't want to go to the OR for a completely unrelated reason.  Everyone on the medical team assured us they would keep a close watch on the infection problem to see if we could make it out of there without anybody getting cut open.

They moved, Anne-Marie from the special care wing to a regular room and told me I could have a rollaway bed to sleep on for as long as Anne-Marie was a patient there.  (That's more like it.)

From there, it was all about waiting and going to the cafeteria every couple of hours.

The antibiotics were effective throughout the day and then stalled that evening.

---

The next morning (Sunday), Anne-Marie's doctor, Dr. Shannon Colohan, sent us the message we didn't want to hear.  The antibiotics weren't going to be enough and Anne-Marie would need to go into surgery right away.  Because it was Sunday, the OR had an opening in exactly 45 minutes.

Of course we were a little shocked, but decided to go ahead with allowing them to physically remove the infection.  Our mental preparation time was shortened, but so was the dreadful anticipation. We knew that the surgery would significantly speed up, not only the removal of the infection, but--if the doctors were to be believed--the recovery process, as well.

45 minutes later, we were in the only people in an OR staging room set up for 40 patients.

Emergency to Surgery: Part 9

The staff at the special care wing of the University of Washington Medical Center had a lot more straightforward way of communicating.  First, Anne-Marie was probably going to be in the hospital for at least four days.  Second, they really didn't want the kids in the room.

Now, I was stuck in the cyclical problem of not wanting to leave my wife's side while we tried to understand what happened 12 hours earlier and not being allowed to stay by my wife's side due to the fact that we had our two small children with us.

In the middle of this, I called some of our family and let them know what was happening.  My mom decided to drive up from Portland to take care of the kids.  She would be there around 9:00 PM.  I also called the SCCA House to see if I could come there with the kids to crash for a few hours.  They were full.  I was considering getting a regular motel or sleeping on the sidewalk when they called back and said they had a cancellation.

The kids were getting restless and the nursing staff was getting irritated, so we decided to leave right away for our room.

---

SCCA House is only three miles from the hospital, so we got there quickly.  As soon as we got in the door the kids started running from one end of the lobby to the other.  There were two people in line in front of me.  (Hurry up, please!)

One person finished and I took the opportunity to pull Elisha off of a bench he thought was a pommel horse.  The next person was getting their room and I zoned out.  By the time I got my key I turned around and the kids were on the floor with two stacks of hotel brochures they'd thrown on the floor and were using as a deck of cards, shuffling them, fanning them out and then dealing hands to each other.  I picked up the brochures and set them in semi-order on the table then dragged the kids upstairs to the room before they started pretending the complimentary pens were cigars.

We fell dead asleep for two hours.

Emergency to Surgery: Part 8

Two more hours passed and it was 10:00 AM.  We went in to visit Anne-Marie again and they told us what we didn't want to hear.  She was going to be admitted.

They had already hooked her up to IV antibiotic treatment a few hours earlier and would need more than just a few hours of treatment.  I was pretty disappointed.  I guess I was hoping we'd get a quick fix and head home.  Now we were stuck in the ER waiting for them to assign us a room in the big hospital.

The kids were slightly refreshed from the breakfast and play session, so we somehow managed to make it through the next two and a half hours without many tragedies.  The doctor came back to inform us that we were officially being admitted and that we could all follow Anne-Marie as she was being wheeled to her room.  The nurses made some rubber gloves into water balloons to entertain the kids during the process.

It was 12:30 PM.  We had been in the ER waiting room for nearly nine hours.

Emergency to Surgery: Part 7

7:30 finally came and the cafeteria was open.  Going to the bathroom with all the stuff and the kids in tow was a struggle.  The cafeteria would complicate it even more.

"Plaza Cafe" (as it is known on the campus of UWMC) is one of the more mediocre hospital cafeterias in the Pacific Northwest.  I know because I'm an expert.  Dining out inside the Seattle city limits is usually more expensive, but you'd think that the hospital cafeteria would be in some kind of exception bubble since no one really wants to eat there.  At Plaza Cafe, they charge full price.

The kids were thrilled that I got them that I said they could get a donut and excitedly watched as their father stumbled with the donuts, eggs, bacon, juice, bagels and anything else money could buy to a table as far away as possible from any of the other involuntary customers.  The kids chowed it all and then began running laps around the room.  People just stared at them, half in shock and half indifferent.  They didn't quite understand.  Isn't there a Sawyer Brown song about this?

UWMC doesn't have any kids' play areas inside or out, so the kids convinced me to let them play outside in the outdoor seating area on the wheelchair ramp, just like Grandma did back in November.  While they were running up and down the ramp and shimmying down the hand rails, I decided to call my boss and tell him I "probably wouldn't make it in today."

As I got sent to voicemail, I heard a voice behind me:

"You kids, get back inside!  Where are your parents?  You can't be out here like this!"

I turned and looked directly at a nurse.  My kids were devastated, but intimidated by someone who came after them with so much force.  I hung up the phone and saw my kids glance my direction as the woman began to lead the kids back inside.  They were 10 feet away.  20 feet away.  I stared directly at all three of them as they were walking.  Now I was curious as to how long this was going to go on.

It wasn't that hard to make the connection that the kids were with me, but I guess if you've got certain preconceived notions, your brain keeps you from seeing the obvious.  30 feet away.  She starts talking to the kids,

"Where's your mommy?"

And I interrupt,  "I am their father."

Mariah answers, "My mommy is sick!"

Nurse turns around and looks at me and then them and says, "I'm sorry!  I thought you were just some guy on the phone."

"That's my daddy! Mommy's sick and in the hopsidal."

Nurse responds, "Well, she's gonna get better.  Sorry, I thought you were out here alone."

"It's OK.  We were headed inside, anyhow."

The nurse quickly walked back inside and so did we.  She was shaking her head.  I was shaking from delirious laughter.

I think I just got racially profiled.

---

Yes: the woman appeared to be African American.
Yes: she did make a snap judgment about how unlikely it would be that this Mexican guy could be father to two black kids.
Yes: she totally embarrassed herself and distressed my children.
No: I'm not going pound my chest, squint my eyes and quote MLK.

Why? Because it's just not that big of a deal. It's funny enough to blog about, but only serves (at best) as a weak illustration that prejudice works both ways and so many other things that everyone already knows.

She didn't mean anything by it. I repeat: she didn't mean anything by it. And--really--good for her for taking charge of her hospital. A little overzealous, but hey...

Emergency to Surgery: Part 6

The drive between Tacoma and Seattle is so much easier between three and four in the morning.  We got to the ER at University of Washington Medical Center at about 3:45 AM.  Apparently UWMC isn't set up for people to use the emergency.  Parking was a pain and the waiting room was barren.  For the first time since I remember at any hour of the day, no one else was there.  They must've all gone to Harborview.

Anne-Marie was taken back to the staging room right away, so we didn't see her as we were busy parking the truck.  The kids pretty much decided to make the waiting room their playground.  DVDs and the iPad were included in the rush packing, so I made full use of them.

I was still holding onto the hope that this was some kind of allergic reaction or virus.  The ER doctor didn't believe this to be the case at all and came out after an hour and said they'd ordered a CT scan. He believed it was either a blood clot or an infection from the November surgery.   (They soon ruled out the possibility of a blood clot.)  After we'd been in the waiting room two hours I decided to go see Anne-Marie, but remember, I had the kids and everything we packed with me the entire time.

I talked to Anne-Marie for a few minutes and we had to leave.  The ER nurses were very understanding of the kids for the short time they were in the room.  It was 5:45 AM.

We went back to the waiting room and struggled through two more hours.  The kids were falling apart from fatigue and began to do anything to stay awake.  They ran from end to end of the waiting room.  They took advantage of the circle of ugly armchairs on the perimeter of the room and used them as a hurdle course.  They watched the waiting room TV even though it was showing Cartoon Network.  They talked to strangers and complained about everything.  I was far too tired to care.

The kids and I made a friend in the waiting room named Graciella.  She was there because she'd just lost her baby because of a miscarriage.  She told me with sad eyes that she still trusted God and that's what we all had to do.  She was waiting there alone in the waiting room as someone drove to pick her up.  She talked about friends, family and all the blessings in her life and reminded me of the blessings in mine.  I helped her to the car when her friend came, watched them drive away and thought to myself, "She needs more prayer and encouragement than we do."

Emergency to Surgery: Part 5

I don't remember what I told the dispatcher.  I know I gave them the address and watched as--four minutes later--a City of Tacoma fire engine parked in front of our house.  I think we woke up the whole neighborhood.

Anne-Marie was doing well enough to be guided to the couch.  Three paramedics came in and check everything they could.  She was fine. (But we knew she wasn't)

They recommended that Anne-Marie be driven to the nearest emergency room.  Anne-Marie's doctor's had already instructed us that any ER trip that we make due to the current circumstance should be to University of Washington Medical Center.  Then it became a bargaining session:

"...but we'd have to go all the way to the University."

"We have no problem taking you in the ambulance."

"But we have kids and they're asleep right now and we'd need to get them ready to go."

"Your husband can get them ready and come to UW as soon as he can make it."

We finally convinced them that the ambulance was unnecessary.  We'd get the kids ready and drive the 30 miles ourselves.  They wished us well, got back in their fire truck and disappeared into the dark.

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The kids were more than a little shocked to be woken up at 3:00 AM, but they soon began to think it was all a big adventure.  Of course, they were right, but not the kind you choose.

Emergency to Surgery: Part 4

Anne-Marie was on the floor and was fading in and out more times than I could count.  She seemed as if someone was actually taking a switch and turning her off and on.  Recognition, fear, then nothingness in a cycle. 

I could feel despair and almost a bitterness rise up in me over the seeming futility of all she'd fought for over the last seven years when I realized something: She's not having a stroke or a heart attack. She's only losing consciousness.

I was still praying and holding her when she came back.

"My ears are buzzing."

"Should I call 911?"

"Probably."

I managed to keep ahold of her while I grabbed my cell phone, dialed the three numbers you never want to dial and talked to the dispatcher.

Emergency to Surgery: Part 3

Two crashes woke me up in the middle of the night.  I looked at the clock: 2:00 AM.  I thought that Buddy must've fallen out of bed.  Someone needed to go pick him up so I sat up in bed and realized Anne-Marie wasn't there with me.  Then she walked into the room.

"I just passed out in the bathroom."

I said, "I thought Elisha had fallen out of bed again."

"No that was me and I'm gonna pass out again right now!"

When she did time began to move very, very slowly.  She fell forward and I caught her, held her and guided her to the floor.  She said something like, "I can't stop!" before blackness overtook her mind again.  I put my other hand on her and began to say "Jesus!" and I thought to myself, "My God, this is how it's all going to end."

Emergency to Surgery: Part 2

Somewhere in the course of taking care of the kids on Thursday morning, Anne-Marie bent over and felt something shift.  The dizziness she'd been experiencing for the past two weeks increased, she couldn't breath and pain shot through her body.  This probably wasn't the flu.

Fifteen minutes later, I had just gotten off the phone with Anne-Marie and was on my way through the streets of Olympia trying to get home as quickly as I could.  In the 40 minutes of drive time, Anne-Marie managed to get the kids off to their afternoon naps and then sat on the couch.  When I arrived, she was fine.

I was glad I came home, but was unsure what to do.  Her oncologist had prescribed an antibiotic for whatever it was that was causing the problem earlier in the day, so I made myself useful by picking that up.  I let Anne-Marie take it easy that evening and we went to bed hoping the antibiotics would do the trick.

Emergency to Surgery: Part 1

I decided to write down our story partly because I think it should be told and partly because I feel I need to remember it.

Thursday, June 11th, was a good day.  It was bright and sunny and actually hot, which is rare for our area of the country.  Our family was going on a camping trip with our church at the KOA in Warrenton.  Anne-Marie had been a little sick--in fact fighting a fever every night for two weeks--but we'd been anticipating the short little vacation for weeks, so in order to get a jump on the evening traffic, Anne-Marie picked me up from work in Olympia in the middle of the day and we headed southwest to the Coast.  She was exhausted and was ready for me to get in the driver's seat.

After a day and a half of cabin living, I realized the overall dizziness and malaise Anne-Marie had been complaining about earlier in the week was more serious than I thought.  The last morning of the trip, she didn't get up with the rest of us.  In fact, everyone from the group had left by the time she got up.  We quickly packed up and left the campground before they charged us for an extra day.

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Anne-Marie was still feeling very weak the next Monday.  I figured she must have caught the same flu as everyone else we know.  Maybe she even had a sinus infection, which would explain the dizziness (right?).  Tuesday and Wednesday were even worse.  I went in to work early on Thursday because I thought I might be needed at home as much as possible.

Thursday at 11:30 in the morning, Anne-Marie called and said she needed me to pray for her.

We pray in our home and for each other and with our kids--and I suppose maybe it should be more commonplace--but her demand to have me pray with her over the phone immediately seemed serious.  A lot more serious than I was expecting while I was away at work. 

I did pray and then grabbed my keys off my desk and drove straight home.

5th Anniversary: The Prequel

Last Monday, Labor Day, was my 27th birthday. We celebrated with a barbecue. We ate cake and ice cream like at any party. Anne-Marie was midway between chemo treatments and was having one of her good days.

Around 10:00 PM, after everything settled down, Anne-Marie's temperature began to rise rapidly. I was walking down the hall at 11:30 when I heard what I thought was an alarm go off. I was only half correct. Anne-Marie had taken her temperature and the high pitched squeal from the digital thermometer in her hand was meant to warn that her 101.6 degree temperature was dangerously above normal.

By the agreement that we made with our doctor, we were obligated to call the 24-hour emergency phone number at Northwest Cancer Associates. When I got on the line with the operator, he immediately put me through to the on-call doctor. The doctor, thankfully, happened to be our own: Dr. John Smith. Dr. Smith ordered us to go to the emergency room at Willamette Falls Hospital in Oregon City to get a C.B.C. (complete blood count). "What an over-reaction!" I thought.

We arrived at Willamette Falls at 11:50 (still my birthday), and were checked-in to an empty emergency room. The ER doctor told us that Anne-Marie's blood count was dangerously low--she had 94 white blood cells and no disease-fighting white blood cells--and that she was at serious risk for developing a bacterial infection. She needed to be admitted to the hospital.

They gave us the choice of being admitted there or driving to Providence Portland Medical Center, where our Dr. Smith works. We chose to go to Providence.

We arrived at Providence at 2:00 AM. We got settled in the room by 4:00 AM in the 5th floor medical unit, because the oncology unit was full. The head nurse informed us that our nurse, "Angus," would be by shortly. (Not Agnes or Argus, but Angus.)

Angus was a short, medium-built, awkward sort of guy. He sounded like Jimmy Stewart: talking with his mouth mostly closed and then adding the obligatory, contemplative "...Yeah..." at the end of everything he said, as if he wasn't exactly sure if he was right or not. (i.e., "What Ah think Ah'm gonna do is, ahh, werr gonna give yuh this, ahh, Ah. Vee. ...Yeah... that's what werr gonna do.)

All in all, it was turning out to be a nearly normal day. One minute sitting around eating burgers with the folks; the next rushed to the hospital and placed under the care of a guy named Angus.

Dr. Smith came in at 8:00 on Tuesday morning and told us that we wouldn't be going home for "two or three days." He also attempted to tell the staff that the "Mask and Gloves Required!" sign on the door was completely unnecessary, because he was not concerned about Anne-Marie catching a virus, but that she would develop a blood infection. They, for whatever reason, ignored him. I sure felt bad when Pastor Gleason came in later that morning to pray for Anne-Marie all dressed-up in that stuff.

Phil and my mom came to visit during the next few days as they did blood tests and waited for the desired results. So did Brian, Angela, and the Harrisons. Mom ate dinner at the hospital with me. I tried everything on the menu. I think the food at Meridian Park is better.

Finally, on Friday morning, our 5th anniversary, I told the nurse, "I don't care what you have to do. Get us out of here!" Dr. Smith came in that morning and let us know that Anne-Marie's blood count still wasn't high enough, but that they would test again in the afternoon. If the count was up, he would release us.

It was, and he let us go. We left the hospital at 6:30 PM; got home at seven; left our house for Astoria at eight; arrived at our bed and breakfast at 10:30 PM. What a way to end my birthday and begin our anniversary!

RELEASED

Release postponed

We will not be leaving until this afternoon.

5th anniversary

As I lay here, I'm pondering many things.

One is of that special day five years ago: September 8, 2001. Anne-Marie and I were married with no idea of what was to come. No guarantees.

"You'll won't know what it's like 'til you're married yourself," they said. They were right.

We left the next day for Baja California, Mexico. We woke up two days later and found out that our lives had changed forever for the second time in three days.

On the morning of September 11th, 2001, we didn't know if we would ever make it back to see our new home. We didn't know how or when we could make it back to America. We didn't know anything.

Somehow we made it back home; somehow we made it through.

Another thing that floods my mind this early morning is the thought that, five years later, September 8, 2006, I'm writing this from my wife's hospital room. We're fighting to keep her alive. This isn't how we'd planned it.

No idea what is to come. No guarantees.

You won't know 'til you get there.

But, somehow...

Blood count still rising...

But not fast enough. Dr. Smith says we will not go home before tomorrow.

Moved from Medical 5R34 to Oncology 5R31

Dr. Smith got his wish this evening; a room opened up in the Oncology wing. They moved us so he could have all his patients on the same side of the hospital.

Blood count rising

blood count yesterday: .9
blood count today: 1.1
normal count: 3.5-11.0

Release tomorrow probable

Dr. Smith told us that if Anne-Marie continues to make progress as she has been, a Thursday release is likely.

Blood count still low; temparature normalizing

Wow!

They have complimentary broadband at Providence!

I will attempt to leave a series of short updates in the next 24 hours.