OK, so I started this Blog mainly with the intention of keeping interested folks up to date on what has been happening with me, and what is currently happening. However I discoverde that I had a story(s) to tell. So now it has been brought to my attention that I have been somewhat remiss in bringing eveyone up to date as I digress into other stories. So, for the benefit of those who would like a quick update, I will provide a quick timeline and we will continue with filling in the gaps later:
2012
February 25: Admitted to hospital in Las Vegas with what was initially diagnosed as pneumonia
March 06: Discharged from hospital in Las Vegas with undiagnosed pulmonary condition
March 07: Admitted to St. Pauls hospital in Vancouver
April 04: Discharged from St. Pauls with what is now diagnosed as an Interstitial Lung Disease (ILD). this is an umbrella diagnosis of which there are numerous sub catergories and hundreds of possibilities. Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis (IPF), Non-Specific Interstitial Pneumonia (NSIP), connective tissue diseases (ie lupus, rheumatoid arthritis etc) and on and on. Bottom line is that they know there is progressive scarring of the lungs. The damage done is irreversible and it is getting worse. What caused it and why is unknown. I am told that the sudden onset is rare. They start me on monthly IV treatments of Cyclophosphamide. I am on supplemental oxygen full time
May 10: Meet with Medical Director of the Lung Transplant Program of BC. Decision is made to proceed with the Pre Assessment process for a lung transplant
September 01: Pre Assessment process is almost complete and we move to Vancouver in order to be close to the hospital and we are required to be in Vancouver for a minimum 3 months post transplant
October 20: Condition deteriorated, can't have any exertion, can't get up out of bed. back to St Pauls
November 13: Placed on the priority list for a lung transplant. Discharged once again. Supplemental oxygen requirement has increased to 6 lpm through nasal prongs at rest, plus an extra 15 lpm through a simple mask with any exertion (standing up)
Today: Sitting in the basement suite in Vancouver patiently awaiting the new lungs, which apparently have been delayed in transit somewhere....
That's it, you are now current. One other note though, my niece Brenda is also awaiting a transplant, a kidney transplant. She could be on a waiting list for up to eight years. So please do me a couple of kind favours:
1. Register as an organ donor. If you found this blog, then I am confident that you can find the appropriate agency and requirements for your Province or State
2. Check out her Blog: beanstalkblogger.wordpress.com. Her recent post on waiting for a transplant is an excellent read
Last thing, for those who were having difficulty leaving a comment, I think I have that fixed, so try again
OK, next time we go back to Las Vegas.
Wednesday, 21 November 2012
Tuesday, 20 November 2012
Ambulances
I had been in an ambulance twice before in my life.
You see ambulances go by all the time. Do we really give thought to who is inside or why? Whose life has been impacted, how badly or how much, is not really anything we give thought to as we pull over to the side of the road and wait for it to pass. I try to remember now, that every time an ambulance passes with the sirens going, something tragic has happened in someones life and I am grateful it is not mine.
My first time in an ambulance, I was 16. I "borrowed" my Mom's 1975 Vega, It was fire engine red, with a white racing stripe down the middle, kind of a cool looking car really. I still wonder now, as I did then, why my mom, a middle aged mother of twelve had such a sporty looking car. Anyway, I took the car and picked up my friend Doug and we headed to Downtown Vancouver to visit some friends. I only had my license for a few months and the roads were snow covered (yes it used to snow in Vancover back in the day) so I was driving slowly and carefully. The visit went well and we were heading home, in plenty of time to get there before Mom & Dad got home. Although Doug was a year older than me, he had only recently obtained his learners permit. Despite that, he asked if he could drive for a bit. Certainly against my better judgement I agreed, however implored him to drive carefully. I remember the events leading up to the accident so clearly. We were driving East on Prior St, just east of the Georgia Viaduct. There are two lanes heading East, we were in the curb lane. Due to the snow on the road, traffic was slow. However Doug decided it was too slow and so he went into the left lane to pass. Snowplows had been down the road, and thus there was a big pile of snow separating the East and West bound lanes. Due to Doug's inexperience, more likely due to his youthful haste, he did not succesfully negotiate his pass on the left and the left front tire of the Vega hit the snowbank in the middle of the road. Doug completely lost control and the car went into a spin. I remember spinning and then nothing. I woke up laying on the road, I heard voices. Police officer: "Who was driving?" Doug :"Mike was". I had no recollection at that time. I looked over and saw the car literally wrapped around a Hydro pole on the passenger side, it looked terrible and the kind of damage where you look and wonder how anyone could have survived. I was put in the ambualnce and taken to Vancouver General. I remember the smell of the ambulance, the sound of siren, the voices of the paramedics. I tried to look around, because I was amazed that I was in an ambulance, but they had me immobilized.
We arrived at the hosptial and I was checked over. Bumps and bruises and scrapes, but nothing serious and apparently I was going to live. However rather than being thankful I remember thinking I hope I am somewhat injured because that will at least delay, and hopefully reduce the punishment I know I am going to receive from my parents when I get home. A police officer came in and asked who had been driving. I had no recollection at the time, however I did remember hearing Doug say at the accident scene that I had been driving, so I said I was. He left and then returned 10 minutes later and said we have a problem, Doug says he was driving. Ok I said, I don't recall so just go with whatever he says. Bad decision, cost me $3,000.00. I allowed an unlicensed driver to operate the car and so insurance wouldn't pay, Doug didn't have any money and Dad rightfully insisted on being paid for the loss. $3,000.00 for a 16 year old in 1976, was a lot of money. You ask my 19 year old daughter now and she will tell you that $3,000.00 is a lot of money in 2012. Anyway, the story was to be about my first ambulance ride, not the costly mistakes of my youth. There are lots of examples of those, maybe we'll talk in future.
Flash forward 33 years. Went camping for a long weekend at Katherine lake on the Sunshine Coast. Good time, sitting around the fire at night. Had a few too many drinks, got up to go get another (like I needed it) stumbled and did a faceplant. Pretty embarrasing, and I got pretty cut up. Had to call an ambulance and it was a forty minute drive into Sechelt to the hospital. Completely different experience from the first one.This time I was awake and aware, well kind of aware, as I was pretty drunk. I thought I was being charming during the transport, however I suspect the paramedics may have a different interpretation and were most likely happy to be rid of me. Anyway, fairly uneventful.
I could have easily gone another 33 years before having to get into an ambulance again and not missed it, but that was not meant to be. Before getting to the ambulance from the plane, I am wheeled on a stretcher through the airport, but in the back storage areas and such. The paramedics are quick to tell us that use of this route is generally only allowed by VIPs and such. Well I am not impressed, and still not pleased that I am on a stretcher anyway. Although I msut now be honest and admit I was glad I didn't have to walk, I was just so tired. So through the airport and loaded into the ambulance. Young fellow, no more than 22 - 23 is driving with Arletha in the passenger seat, and the senior man, maybe 25 years old, is in the back wiht me. Then the interrogation starts. I don't think he meant it that way, but Jesus, Mary & Joseph, the number of questions was getting quite tiresome. He got my entire life history. We arrived at the Desert Springs Hospital in sunny Las Vegas at around 2:00 pm. I am placed in Station #10 and told that a doctor will be with us shortly. In the interim, I tell Arletha to call the travel insurance company and apprise them of the situation. Long story about that, but that is for another time. Male nurse takes all of the vitals, doctor arrives and completes an assessment and orders a chest X Ray, which is done bedside. This is followed by a CT Scan that I am wheeled away for. In the end they decide I have pneumonia and put me on IV antibiotics. At this point I am still thinking I may get out, but nooooo. We are going to have to admit you they say, you are too sick to be out. How long will I be here, a day or two they say....Crap! We don't have a bed available yet, so you will have to stay in ER until a bed opens up.....Crap!
With me in the hospital, Arletha, my dear wife who has never lived in, and has no desire to ever live in, a big city, is now going to have to return to the airport, retrieve our luggage, secure the rental car and check into the hotel. This may be old hat for some travellers, but as I mentioned before, Arletha and I had only travelled once before, and I looked after all of that. Although she did her best to hide it, my heart ached for her as I knew the fear and trepidation she had as we kissed good bye and she headed out to get a cab at about 7:00 pm. By 10:00 the ER is starting to get busy. This is the closest hospital to the world famous Las Vegas strip and thus as the evening progresses more and more inebriated people are coming in with various afflcitions and injuries. Lot of blood, lots of drug over doses, a truly horrific and unending horror movie which I could not turn off. By 2:00 am I am ready to say the heck with it and get myself out of there. Unfortunately I am trapped. So I lay there, listened to the endless harmony of all of the medical alarms going off, watched as the fellow who came in passed out and was placed in the bed next to me woke up and pulled out his IV and started to bleed everywhere, listened to the old lady two beds down call out every 10 minutes or so telling anyone who could hear her that she was in pain. It was the longest night of my life. At 9:30 am on Sunday, I was wheeled upstairs to a ward and given a bed. Even though I still really wanted to get out of the hospital, I have to admit that getting into a real bed and getting some peace and quiet to go to sleep was blissful. Little did I know that the blissful feeling was to be short lived.
You see ambulances go by all the time. Do we really give thought to who is inside or why? Whose life has been impacted, how badly or how much, is not really anything we give thought to as we pull over to the side of the road and wait for it to pass. I try to remember now, that every time an ambulance passes with the sirens going, something tragic has happened in someones life and I am grateful it is not mine.
My first time in an ambulance, I was 16. I "borrowed" my Mom's 1975 Vega, It was fire engine red, with a white racing stripe down the middle, kind of a cool looking car really. I still wonder now, as I did then, why my mom, a middle aged mother of twelve had such a sporty looking car. Anyway, I took the car and picked up my friend Doug and we headed to Downtown Vancouver to visit some friends. I only had my license for a few months and the roads were snow covered (yes it used to snow in Vancover back in the day) so I was driving slowly and carefully. The visit went well and we were heading home, in plenty of time to get there before Mom & Dad got home. Although Doug was a year older than me, he had only recently obtained his learners permit. Despite that, he asked if he could drive for a bit. Certainly against my better judgement I agreed, however implored him to drive carefully. I remember the events leading up to the accident so clearly. We were driving East on Prior St, just east of the Georgia Viaduct. There are two lanes heading East, we were in the curb lane. Due to the snow on the road, traffic was slow. However Doug decided it was too slow and so he went into the left lane to pass. Snowplows had been down the road, and thus there was a big pile of snow separating the East and West bound lanes. Due to Doug's inexperience, more likely due to his youthful haste, he did not succesfully negotiate his pass on the left and the left front tire of the Vega hit the snowbank in the middle of the road. Doug completely lost control and the car went into a spin. I remember spinning and then nothing. I woke up laying on the road, I heard voices. Police officer: "Who was driving?" Doug :"Mike was". I had no recollection at that time. I looked over and saw the car literally wrapped around a Hydro pole on the passenger side, it looked terrible and the kind of damage where you look and wonder how anyone could have survived. I was put in the ambualnce and taken to Vancouver General. I remember the smell of the ambulance, the sound of siren, the voices of the paramedics. I tried to look around, because I was amazed that I was in an ambulance, but they had me immobilized.
We arrived at the hosptial and I was checked over. Bumps and bruises and scrapes, but nothing serious and apparently I was going to live. However rather than being thankful I remember thinking I hope I am somewhat injured because that will at least delay, and hopefully reduce the punishment I know I am going to receive from my parents when I get home. A police officer came in and asked who had been driving. I had no recollection at the time, however I did remember hearing Doug say at the accident scene that I had been driving, so I said I was. He left and then returned 10 minutes later and said we have a problem, Doug says he was driving. Ok I said, I don't recall so just go with whatever he says. Bad decision, cost me $3,000.00. I allowed an unlicensed driver to operate the car and so insurance wouldn't pay, Doug didn't have any money and Dad rightfully insisted on being paid for the loss. $3,000.00 for a 16 year old in 1976, was a lot of money. You ask my 19 year old daughter now and she will tell you that $3,000.00 is a lot of money in 2012. Anyway, the story was to be about my first ambulance ride, not the costly mistakes of my youth. There are lots of examples of those, maybe we'll talk in future.
Flash forward 33 years. Went camping for a long weekend at Katherine lake on the Sunshine Coast. Good time, sitting around the fire at night. Had a few too many drinks, got up to go get another (like I needed it) stumbled and did a faceplant. Pretty embarrasing, and I got pretty cut up. Had to call an ambulance and it was a forty minute drive into Sechelt to the hospital. Completely different experience from the first one.This time I was awake and aware, well kind of aware, as I was pretty drunk. I thought I was being charming during the transport, however I suspect the paramedics may have a different interpretation and were most likely happy to be rid of me. Anyway, fairly uneventful.
I could have easily gone another 33 years before having to get into an ambulance again and not missed it, but that was not meant to be. Before getting to the ambulance from the plane, I am wheeled on a stretcher through the airport, but in the back storage areas and such. The paramedics are quick to tell us that use of this route is generally only allowed by VIPs and such. Well I am not impressed, and still not pleased that I am on a stretcher anyway. Although I msut now be honest and admit I was glad I didn't have to walk, I was just so tired. So through the airport and loaded into the ambulance. Young fellow, no more than 22 - 23 is driving with Arletha in the passenger seat, and the senior man, maybe 25 years old, is in the back wiht me. Then the interrogation starts. I don't think he meant it that way, but Jesus, Mary & Joseph, the number of questions was getting quite tiresome. He got my entire life history. We arrived at the Desert Springs Hospital in sunny Las Vegas at around 2:00 pm. I am placed in Station #10 and told that a doctor will be with us shortly. In the interim, I tell Arletha to call the travel insurance company and apprise them of the situation. Long story about that, but that is for another time. Male nurse takes all of the vitals, doctor arrives and completes an assessment and orders a chest X Ray, which is done bedside. This is followed by a CT Scan that I am wheeled away for. In the end they decide I have pneumonia and put me on IV antibiotics. At this point I am still thinking I may get out, but nooooo. We are going to have to admit you they say, you are too sick to be out. How long will I be here, a day or two they say....Crap! We don't have a bed available yet, so you will have to stay in ER until a bed opens up.....Crap!
With me in the hospital, Arletha, my dear wife who has never lived in, and has no desire to ever live in, a big city, is now going to have to return to the airport, retrieve our luggage, secure the rental car and check into the hotel. This may be old hat for some travellers, but as I mentioned before, Arletha and I had only travelled once before, and I looked after all of that. Although she did her best to hide it, my heart ached for her as I knew the fear and trepidation she had as we kissed good bye and she headed out to get a cab at about 7:00 pm. By 10:00 the ER is starting to get busy. This is the closest hospital to the world famous Las Vegas strip and thus as the evening progresses more and more inebriated people are coming in with various afflcitions and injuries. Lot of blood, lots of drug over doses, a truly horrific and unending horror movie which I could not turn off. By 2:00 am I am ready to say the heck with it and get myself out of there. Unfortunately I am trapped. So I lay there, listened to the endless harmony of all of the medical alarms going off, watched as the fellow who came in passed out and was placed in the bed next to me woke up and pulled out his IV and started to bleed everywhere, listened to the old lady two beds down call out every 10 minutes or so telling anyone who could hear her that she was in pain. It was the longest night of my life. At 9:30 am on Sunday, I was wheeled upstairs to a ward and given a bed. Even though I still really wanted to get out of the hospital, I have to admit that getting into a real bed and getting some peace and quiet to go to sleep was blissful. Little did I know that the blissful feeling was to be short lived.
Monday, 19 November 2012
A Little Background
It is often said, and of course there is medical science to show, that once you reach a certain age in life you go through the “change”. Of course as men, we always assume that sort of talk is for women who begin menopause. When it comes to men, the change is also known as the “mid life crisis”. The symptoms of these two afflictions is completely different, however the timing seems to be about the same. Of course this is just one of the many things where women point out that life is easier on men than women. When men get grey hair they look distinguished, when women get grey hair they look old, that sort of thing. And in this case, where women suffer bloating, sweating and hot flashes, men are afflicted with the sudden urge to buy a convertible find a blond bombshell to put in the passenger seat and go out to discos all night. But the whole discussion of the equanimity of the sexes is for another time. Right now we are going to talk about change.
We go through stages as we grow up. But one thing we do know, from when we are first able to formulate thought, is that we do want to grow up. We don’t want to crawl anymore, we want to get up an walk. We don’t want to have training wheels on the bike, we are big enough to ride without them, I am big enough to play on the big swings. Now I am in school, in kindergarten, I can’t wait to get into Grade one, real school, then Grade two, three….OMG I can’t wait, next year I will be in Grade Seven and we will rule this place. Grade Eight is a rude awakening, but one that is accepted because I watch the seniors and I know that one day, that will be me. I will be a senior, a Grad for God’s sake. Just gotta put in my time, just put in the years, no one can stop me. It is difficult waiting, but I know it is coming. Soon I will be old enough to get my drivers license, soon I will graduate, soon I will be 19 and won’t have to worry about fake ID anymore, soon I will be………AN ADULT.
As I lay here in my hospital bed looking out at a rather grey and gloomy day it occurs to me that when I was a kid and I wanted to get older, this shit is not what I expected. I hadn’t really considered the reality that from the time we take our first breath, we are move slowly and inexorably towards our last. For some there is very little gap between the first and last breaths, an hour, a day a week, a year.. for others it is over a hundred years, but no one knows when they will take their last breath. Some people realize that and try to fit as much into their lives as they can, others assume there will always be more time, until there is not.. It has been said many times that at the end, on the death bed, no one wishes for a better car, a bigger house, or any material goods, they simply want more time. They didn’t realize their time was growing short. I have been one of the latter.
I have been vain in believing that I have some purpose to serve here on earth, things to do people to see, great things to accomplish, and thus He cannot take me from here until I have done all I am meant to do. This has been reinforced by the fact that I have lived a life in which illness and sickness has never touched me. Well I had that appendix thing when I was 16 but, although some very humorous stories came out of that, the health part of it is hardly worth mentioning. I was active in athletics when I was younger, but I was never one to ‘workout’. I played soccer, baseball, lacrosse, golf whatever. I participated in all gym classes.
Several years later I turned 50 and it occurred to me that was a significant number. I recall my Dad’s 50th birthday party vividly, like it was yesterday. We were all hiding in the rec room in the basement of the house. He was late because he was having drinks with Father Pat. Anyway, he shows up, comes down the stairs, he was so surprised! It was fun. But I remember looking at him and thinking wow, half a century. So, although turning 50 didn’t cause me any great concern, it did occur to me that I was getting older and I should start thinking about my health a little more. This included smoking. I think my first puff of a cigarette was from one that my friends had when I was 14 or 15. I gave me a real fuzzy head feeling that I thought was pretty cool and of course it made me cool. Mom and Dad ran the bingos. For some reason they ended up with a whole bag full of cigarettes in their bedroom closet. I got to sneaking out a pack of smokes here and there until I ended up addicted to the silly things. Not that I realized I was getting hooked.. They cost fifty cents a pack when I started, and went up to seventy five. I swore that if thye ever went up to a dollar I would quit. I think I paid over $10.00 for my last pack. I started smoking Export “A” plain, switched to Export “A” filter and then Players filter. Went into the hospital when I was 16 for my appendix and switched to Players Light then. Smoked Players Light from then, I guess that would have been 1976, until I finally decided enough was enough in September 2009.
I did think about doing more about my health. Got a gym membership, got a private trainer for a little bit. I just couldn’t stay committed to the exercise program. Started to give more thought to exercise last winter and decided I would start doing more hiking and walking in the Spring and summer.
Now we come to “The Change”
In December 2011 Arletha and I decide to take a trip to Vegas in February. It will be only our second trip with just the two of us in 24 years. The timing will have us in Las Vegas for Arletha's birthday. It should be so much fun. Renting a convertible to drive in the desert, see the Hoover Dam, go out for good food, relax in a nice room, maybe see a show or two. Everything seemed normal. No reason to think anything weird was going to happen. Everyday you get up and think about what you have to do that day, you do not wake up thinking that today is the day that your entire life is about to suddenly change in every way possible. Everything you think and believe is about to be challenged. That is what happened February 25, 2012,
The Saturday before we are to leave for our trip to Las Vegas Sechelt Bellingham Washington the next day and will be flying from there to Las Vegas
Put in a little work in the office on the morning of February 24 due to the missed time over the week. No big deal. We finally get on the road and we are on our way. The trip to the Best Western at Bellis Fair Mall was uneventful except that I still didn’t feel very good. By the time we get checked into the hotel and get our bags into the room, I am not feeling too well, so going out for supper is out. We have a brief “discussion” about cancelling the trip and going home, however I tell Arletha that I am not giving up on this trip that we had planned for months, so easily. I had spent a lot of time looking into the things we were going to do and the places we were going to see, and I was not going to let some stupid poorly timed cold stop us. Bless her heart, she wanted the trip too and so against her better judgment, she allowed me to talk her into it. The following morning the hotel had a great breakfast buffet on, but I just couldn’t eat. After breakfast we catch the shuttle to the airport. We finally get on the plane and I am soooo happy that we are on our way and I can sit and rest. The first part of the trip is quiet and peaceful and I took a couple of photos out the window with my phone.
Then I am not sure what happened….I started to feel weak and dizzy and breathing was getting difficult. I asked Arletha to get a glass of water from the stewardess. My darling Newfie wife sometimes has trouble getting people to understand her needs. In this case, the request for a glass of water is interpreted by the stewardess as a request to purchase a bottle of water. No they don’t take Canadian funds. Then, you have to have the correct amount of money or else she will come back later after she gets some change. This little exchange would have been quite comical, if not for the fact that I really did need something to drink. Arletha finally loses her temper, the stewardess looks over at me, and by the look on her face I assume my colour was off. Away goes the stewardess and a new one arrives shortly with a portable bottle of oxygen and insists that I put the mask over my face and breathe. I remember quite clearly giving Arletha the old “evil eye”, which I know she correctly translated as “How could you do this to me and make me look so stupid in front of all of these people”. She returned my glare with one of her own which I easily knew meant “I don’t care what you think, you are not dying on my watch and leaving me alone”
I must admit that after breathing the O2 for a while I was feeling better and I thanked Arletha and the staff. Arletha even apologized to the stewardess. All in all it seemed that things were going to work out just fine. However I soon discovered to my chagrin, that the humiliation I felt when I had to don the O2 mask was nothing compared to the announcement over the PA upon landing that “Due to an on board medical emergency, we ask that you remain seated until we have had the opportunity to have the medical staff deal with the situation” OH Crap, everyone is looking over as they discover I am the medical emergency. Then they bring on a wheel chair and wheel me just outside the airplane doors onto the jetway. Here I am greeted by paramedics who start taking vital signs. Well they are doing their thing, the rest of the passengers begin deplaning, which means walking right by me as I sat in the wheelchair looking pitiful with the mask on my face. How humiliating! They tell me I have a fever, my heart is racing and my blood pressure is sky high (pun intended). It is their recommendation that they take me to a hospital. As I have never been sick before, I am having great difficulty believing that I could possibly be sick enough to warrant going to a hospital when we just got here. Why don’t we just go to our hotel room and I promise I will take it easy for a few days, I am sure this will pass. Some day I must apologize to the paramedics who were just doing their job, because I was treating them like a tow truck driver trying to talk me into towing my car to the shop of their choice. Thankfully they ignored me and just stuck to good old pragmatism, which generally works for me. “wouldn’t it be best to just go to the hospital and get checked out now at the beginning of the trip and then you can enjoy the rest of your trip without any health worries?” Well OK I said, seeing the sense in that. So do not pass go, do not collect your luggage, proceed directly to the hospital.
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