Thursday, December 20, 2012

It started out like  any other Thursday. I was up early, working in my basement office and drinking coffee. I heard Michelle scream at me from upstairs, and since I was in the middle of something, I ignored her and continued my work. Michelle screaming at me was nothing new - one could suggest it was a daily event. When she screamed a second time, however, I listened up. I headed up the stairs to find my wife writhing in pain on the bathroom floor. She couldn't really pinpoint the problem, but in then end determined it was indigestion and insisted (against my better judgement - I wanted to go to Urgent Care)  that I run to the store and get her some GasX.

By the end of the day, what started as kidney stones for her became a heart attack for me and a year of lemons turning into lemonade. I believe that God gave me 1,000 warnings that I ignored over the years. To suggest I was high risk is a bit of an understatement. I’m a Type 1 diabetic; I have a family history of Cardio Vascular Disease (CVD) and I was in one of my “on again” periods of smoking. (I have been an on again/off again smoker since my teens). In other words, I should have known better. But I think I am not alone in:

• not knowing the warning signs of a heart attack very well
• not expecting I would suffer one at 54 years of age
• being pre-occupied with caring for my wife and not paying attention to my body

But I digress . . .

Eventually, around 9:30am or so, we got Michelle to Ridges Hospital in Burnsville. She was admitted in the early afternoon, and I spent the day watching her deal with the excruciating pain. We learned she would need a procedure, a surgery and some recovery time. I have to be honest with you, Michelle is one tough woman. And she was in real, persistent and severe pain. Our experience with my Dad, Michelle’s Dad and others have convinced us you need to be an advocate if you are not getting the relief you expect or the service you deserve. We were getting neither.

Throughout the afternoon and evening, with the exception of about 90 minutes when I headed home to get her some clothes and personal items, I spent the bulk of my time talking, praying and believing with Michelle as well as fighting the nursing staff. When the evening nurse came on, we felt completely helpless. I kept calling my daughter, Grace, who is a Med-Surge nurse in Portland, OR. She was very helpful - telling me over and over that Michelle could get much more drugs than she was given and that she hold not be in this kind of pain. Remember that - there is no reason to be in that kind of pain. This became something that I focused on during my own hospitalization 9 days later.

My son Adam came down during the evening and hung around with us. He’s a wonderful and tender man whose presence makes me feel comfortable. He joked a bit with Michelle and then and to leave, because he was flying to Portland the next day. I don’t remember what time he left the hospital, but I know it was after some dinner and a few laughs. His presence was calming, caring and a relief from the concern I had about my wife and her condition.

About 10:45pm I called Grace and her husband Neal in Portland. Primarily I was calling to give the the final recap and to get any last minute advice. The kids had just had Daniel Reid Kelly, our first grandchild, a week before. Michelle and I were so excited for them. I had booked a marathon flight from Minneapolis to Portland via Las Vegas for $159 round trip via Spirit and I was ready to go see them in just a few weeks. We got to business, got our “work” done and I was given my coaching orders. I was in the family waiting room at the hospital, and was leaning against a wall in a squat. Neal prayed. At the end of his prayer, he sort of paused and then added “Thanks, God, for Dad. Keep him peaceful and safe.” I remember that - thinking how great it is that Neal thought of me too, knowing I was in for a long night and needed His cover too.

I hung up, pushed up from the squat position and started to walk out of the area. I felt a “tug” in my chest - like I just hadn’t stretched out fully - more like an athletic type of discomfort then anything else. I thought nothing of it. I rubbed my chest for a second and continued on. I stopped at the nurses station and again demanded someone come see Michelle because she was still in a great deal of pain and Grace and Neal (who is a pharmacist) assured me she could tolerate a great deal more pain killer than she had been administered. This was another contentious meeting - the nurse was clearly disturbed by my interruptions and unsympathetic with Michelle’s condition. I was tired, less than gracious and clearly perturbed.

I left the nurses station and headed down the hallway to Michelle’s room. As I took just a few steps, I felt a pain in my neck that I had never felt before. It was like a bite, but that doesn’t describe it either. More like a twisting of the flesh. I later described it as if all the skin in my neck was attempting to gather together in one place - sort of at the base of my neck, on the left side, about the height of my Adam’s apple.

I massaged it. It stopped me from walking for a moment - but I think just because it was a pretty severe initial pain followed by this twisting feeling. “Stress” is what I recall thinking. “That’s really weird” also went through my thinking. It was my first heart attack. I was 1500 feet from the Emergency Room . . .