Not Buying a Farm Yet
ICU clarifies what’s important
By Kelvin Wade
From page A11 | November 15, 2012 |
Last month, my gastroenterologist persuaded me to undergo a colonoscopy and upper GI endoscopy to try to find an answer to my anemia. He’d been trying to get to the bottom of it for weeks with various tests. I had the procedures done and felt fine the rest of the day.
That night I started having chills and pain in my leg. I have a chronic incurable medical condition that makes me prone to frequent infections. If I catch them early and I have the right medications in my medicine cabinet, I can usually treat it at home. If I don’t have antibiotics or it’s a particularly severe attack, I find myself in the hospital. I’ve been hospitalized more than a half-dozen times.
The next morning, a Saturday, while Cathi made breakfast, I was huddled under a blanket in my recliner. When she brought me a plate and I fell asleep rather than eat, she started to worry. She woke me, pulled back the blanket and could see that my skin was red like a lobster. I was radiating heat. She took my temperature: 103.2.
My normal outbreaks are usually accompanied with a low-grade fever. These symptoms were different. Cathi took me to the ER. I noticed I was seen faster than normal and the ER doc was ordering different tests than usual. They started an IV, gave me painkillers, and asked Cathi if I had a DNR (do not resuscitate).
Cathi said I’d seemed mentally confused at home. In the ER, the doctor asked me several questions to make sure I was mentally present. “Who’s the president?” “Where are you?” Then he pointed to Cathi and said, “Who is she to you?” And I blurted out, “Everything.”
No confusion there.
Within a couple of hours, I was in the ICU on oxygen, the strongest antibiotics known to man and wired up to machines displaying my vitals. I counted 10 different wires or tubes connected to my body.
In addition to my usual infection, I’d developed sepsis. Sepsis or septicemia is a toxic response to infection. Some call it blood poisoning. If not caught early and treated, it can rapidly lead to organ failure, coma and death. It kills 258,000 Americans a year.
I was fortunate that Cathi stubbornly insisted that I go to the hospital and not back to bed like I’d wanted to.
Earlier this year, when Cathi and I took our sick beagle Tyson to the vet and found that there was nothing more they could do for our boy, I had to make the difficult decision to put him down. I always knew that day would come, but I was stunned it was that day.
Likewise, I know that given my medical history, it’s likely an infection leading to sepsis could eventually end my life. But it was stunning to me that it could’ve been that trip to the ER.
An ICU stay three years ago had been the impetus to cobble together short stories I’d written into two books that I published last year. I had Cathi bring me my baby (iPad) to the ICU so I could finish up the third book in the series and potentially work on my column, depending on how long I stayed.
Thank God I responded well to the treatment and was released in three days. I had to tell my brothers that this stay was more serious than the others. Since that stay, I’ve had another setback but I’m battling back.
As we approach Thanksgiving, it’s easy to know what I’m thankful for: The gift of life and my family and friends. Peace.
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