The Stolen Birthday

On November 2, 2012, I will celebrate my 62nd Birthday.  I don't think I will take this one lightly. As I scan the daily paper, I realize that not everyone reaches this number.  I remember classmates, friends and colleagues that passed away much too soon and realize that each day is a gift.

I stood at the Meadowbrook Mall on Saturday and watched as my granddaughter, Ali won 2nd Place in the County Science Fair.  I can't imagine not being there.  This week, we Skyped with my other granddaughter, Avery, as she scooped out a pumpkin.  It is inconceivable that I came close to being a memory at these events.

So many good things have happened as a result of my "emergency", that I can hardly regret that it happened.  Hundreds of calls, cards and encounters have made me realize how blessed I am.  I have shared my story dozens of times and have listened to stories of friends as they relate their own "emergencies" to me.  I've gained a newfound appreciation for the trials that others go through.

I'd like to say that this has inspired me to climb Mount Everest or take the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Mongolia, but I'd be lying.  I want to eat my confetti cake made by Granddaughter Ali and listen to an out of tune version of "Happy Birthday" surrounded by family and friends.

Each day, my "emergency" appears farther away in the rearview mirror of life.  Some incredible opportunities have opened up before me and I am excited as each day dawns.  I know that some day in the future the details of my experience will become a little vague and distant, but I don't ever want to forget the lessons that this has taught me.

I'm hoping for a great gift this birthday.  It has twenty four hours and I've realized that it is the best gift of all.

Best Medicine-My Dog, Jack!

I remember several years ago when an old fellow told me that if you get into politics and need a friend, "Get a dog!"  When our neighbor came home one day with a young dog that he had found with a piece of rope tied around his neck, I could hardly imagine how much my life would change.  Jack became a part of the family and began an incredible journey.  We named him after our neighbor, Shaun Jack.  He gave us some challenges and we worked through some training issues but he soon became comfortable in his adopted home.

While I have had dogs for most of my life, Jack reconnected me with a dog that I had as a young boy.  When I was about ten I had a dog named Junior and he was my constant companion.  Jack seemed to sense that he was sent to our home for a special purpose.  When I came home from the hospital after my embolism, Jack was my 'therapy' dog.  He was ready for anything.  If I was upstairs, he was there.  If I was in the yard, Jack was by my side.

I am probably too much of an optimist to admit that depression is a pretty common issue after a major health scare.  Facing your own mortality and an uncertain future can work on your mind when you are confined to your home recuperating.  I would admit that there were days when I wondered what the future would bring.

Jack seemed to sense this and became my psychologist.  On days when I just wanted to lay in bed, Jack would wag his tail and bark until I would get his leash.  When I was spending too much time thinking about how bad I had it, Jack would jump on the recliner and curl up at my feet.  He seems to understand the unique job that he has undertaken.

Its hard to put into words what Jack means to me, but I think he knows.

Good News!

Walking around with a large blood clot in your leg is not a comforting situation and I was anxiously awaiting  my doctor's appointment today at Ruby Hospital in Morgantown.  Fortunately, the news was good and I will now be jumping back on the road to recovery.  The blood clot is slowly being absorbed back into my body and should be significantly reduced in the next three months.  Hopefully this is a significant milepost on my journey back from my Pulmonary Embolism on September 6, 2012.

I would never pick this malady if given a choice but like many things in life, no one asked me.  I have experienced a wide variety of high-tech medical testing.  MRI's, CAT Scans, Ultrasounds, Blood tests and numerous other magical medical mystery tricks and tests.  I have seen more doctors in the past three months than I had seen in my previous sixty one years.

I have really learned to appreciate the dedication and commitment of today's medical professionals.  They are dealing with a constantly changing environment and yet they continue to engage you on a personal level at a critical time in your life.  I know that not everyone has a positive experience with today's medicine, but I have always tried to be an optimist.  Throughout the past several months of dealing with a serious medical condition, I can honestly say that I have not encountered one person who was less than professional or caring.

The drive to Morgantown today was stunning.  A fall day in West Virginia is a blessing and one that is enjoyed in almost every direction.  So, for now, I will enjoy my good news and start working on the next thirty or so years.  God Bless!

Lessons learned about life!

While I still have some medical issues to resolve, I was very happy to attend the Clarksburg City Council meeting tonight.  About a month ago, I was planning to attend the regular meeting of city council when I learned that I had a pulmonary embolism.  While Clarksburg City Council is sometimes a stressful experience, I can assure you that it beats the Intensive Care Unit at United Hospital Center.

Recovering from a major health scare is an interesting journey for someone who had never spent so much as a day in a hospital.  You start to think about the future and what is really important in your life.        You start to get an idea of what others have gone through over the years.  I have been so touched by the stories that I have heard from friends who have shared their experiences with me in the last week or two.

I think that the lesson learned is that everyone carries a suitcase full of issues that is generally personal and private.  They exist in the world as our friends and colleagues and very seldom do we know the personal struggles that they are going through.  So many people have come up to me and I have been overwhelmed by their experiences.  Heart problems, cancer, brain surgeries and other issues that I had no idea they were going through.  I can only think of how fortunate I have been and how much my eyes have been opened to the struggles of others.

Life is strange.  We put so much focus on illness and heartbreak and we forget the miracle that is our existence.  I could hardly argue with God if he decided to call me home or place some obstacles in my otherwise pleasant existence.  As I was laying in the hospital with a dozen machines hooked up to me, I couldn't get out of my head that I was no more deserving of my 61 healthy years than the day or two of illness.  Each day is a blessing and some of the obstacles may be only be a reminder of the value of these amazing days.

Have a great day tomorrow, it is a bigger blessing than you can possibly realize!

"City Friends"

Had a slight setback today.  I went to my doctor yesterday and he noticed that my left leg was about two inches bigger than the right.  Today I went to UHC for an ultrasound on my legs.  If not for the reason, the ultrasound is a pretty pleasant experience.  After about twenty minutes of rubbing an instrument up and down my legs, the technician said she found a blood clot.  Since I am on blood thinner already, the treatment is pretty much to elevate and wear compression stockings.  I am going to see a specialist to determine exactly what is happening.  While this was a little unexpected I am so happy that I am finally getting to the root of the problem.  I have had a good bit of pain in my leg for the last six months and this might resolve this issue.

So how can it be that today is special.  As I was waiting for my ultrasound test in the lobby area of United Hospital Center, Karen Scarcelli came over and sat with me for a while.  She asked me how I was doing and we talked for about fifteen minutes about my good friend, Clarksburg Public Works Superintendent Frank Scarcelli, who passed away a few months ago.  She shared some stories that I had not heard and I told her some of my memories of Frank before she had met him.  Karen told me that Frank was comforted in the knowledge that she would remain a part of the family of their "city friends" regardless of what happened to him.  I thought of how much that meant when my father passed away and Frank told my mother that my father's "city friends" would never forget him.

Today was special because it reminded me of what great friends and family I have and knowing that they will always be there for me and my family, no matter what happens.  The cards, calls and e-mails have been overwhelming and I can never express how much they mean.  If God placed me at UHC today to be of comfort to someone who is still mourning the loss of her husband, my day was truly special.  I have come to believe that there are no accidents in life and our lives place us where we need to be for a purpose that may not be clear.

Cherish the Day

I had the opportunity to spend part of my day with my granddaughter.  She only had half a day of school today and I picked her up around 1:00PM.  When she jumped in the back seat, I asked her what she wanted to do.  "Whatever Grandpa!"  I said I wanted to stop at Lowes to look at a saw and she said "OK".  She doesn't know it, but that made my day.  As we walked down the aisle at Lowes, I wondered if she would remember this day many years from now.

I never met my grandfather on my dad's side but I did spend a good bit of time with my grandfather on my mother's side.  His name was Andy Husovsky and he had come to America from Slovakia.  He was an interesting guy.  He spent his working years at the Tin Plate Factory in Summit Park.   I always remember that he never liked to have his picture taken and my most memorable picture was when we caught him with my Exponent-Telegram paper bag on his shoulder.  His face looked shocked that he had been caught in a picture.

From my earliest years he seemed old.  He didn't have a car and I can never remember him going on a trip.  He watched his money and he rationed toilet paper for his wasteful grandchildren.  We went to his house each day to have lunch since his house was just a little way from our grade school.  Usually tomato soup with saltine crackers.  He would write down license numbers of the trucks that visited the brewery across the street from his house.  It was in pencil and there was hardly a piece of paper in the house that didn't have dozens of license numbers written on it.  I never asked him why he did it.

I don't know what my granddaughter will remember about her grandfather many years from now.  She might tell her kids that I liked to look at saws.  She might also tell them that that I told corny jokes.  I don't know.  I would hope that she would remember a beautiful autumn day in September when she made my day.  I could have missed this special day and I would not have been able to write on the chalkboard that is my granddaughters memory.  I will cherish this day forever!

2.8 is Great!

Stopped by the doctors office this morning to have my blood checked.  After a tiny stick to my finger the nurse gave me the good news.  Blood is at the 2.8 level on the INR.  The level needs to be between 2.0 and 3.0 in order to keep additional blood clots from forming.  This regimen is a little different for me.  While I have taken pills for years, this is one that needs to be done each day at the same time.  If the blood is too low, I am at risk for a blood clot.  If the blood is too high, I am at risk for bleeding in the brain or other area.

I did learn today that laying on your back for eight days leaves you with very stiff joints and tight muscles.  I took my dog Jack for a walk this morning and it felt like old rusty cables instead of muscles. Cold mornings don't seem to help and if you have a choice, have an embolism in the beginning of summer.

The one factor that is working to get me back on my feet is the sad state of programming on television these days.  When working, I always thought that I was missing something with 112 channels of cable television.  Now, after a few days of uninterrupted television, I am ready to volunteer to clean Porta Johns, just to get out of the house.  

Social Networking and Medical Emergencies

In the age of Facebook and cell phones, a medical emergency takes on a whole other level.  A short note that you have 'checked in' at the hospital starts an online buzz that takes on a life of its own.  People throughout the world start to comment which leads to other comments and invariably leads to the premature posting of an 'obituary' of sorts.  Additionally, with cell phones becoming more and more prevalent, the phone would ring and I would be talking to a constituent about a barking dog, while hooked up to the complex array of wires and tubes.  I did learn that telling people you were in the hospital with a pulmonary embolism seems to quiet even the most persistent caller.

It is reassuring to know that so many people care and are keeping you in their prayers.  Since you are in an inherently helpless situation, hearing similar stories or words of wisdom are extremely helpful and calming.  It also gives you a sense of purpose and a will to carry on.  Among the many notes and posts, a young girl from Hungary named Erica boosted my spirits.  I met Erica during a Habitat for Humanity Global Village build in 2002.  She lives in Hajduboszormeny, Hungary, a small town that doesn't even appear on most maps.  She sent a note on Facebook and I thought of what a powerful tool that social networking has become.

While I am sure that there are downsides to the phenomenon of social networking, I wonder about the days in the past when you learned of a friend that had suffered some medical misfortune and might have reached out a day too late.

Thin Blood!

I never thought of blood as thin or thick.  At best, I concluded that if it was red and not flowing out of a gaping wound, it was ok.  Laying in the hospital, I quickly learned that my discharge was dependent on reaching a number that would indicate that my blood had reached the appropriate 'thinness'.  As I later learned from the RN in charge of my floor, it is really not 'thinness' but the time it takes to coagulate, that is important to treat the pulmonary embolism that was lodged in my lungs.

When I first arrived in the ICU, they injected a large syringe of Heparin and started the first of what seemed like dozens of inter venous bags dripping into my arm.  They were looking for a number between 50 and 80 to get my blood to a therapeutic level.  It was explained to me that this level is important so as to prevent additional blood clots from forming and adding to my already serious medical condition.  My number coming in to the hospital was 29 and it slowly crept to 66 at discharge.

On the third day, they introduced Coumadin into the routine.  I was somewhat afraid that I would suddenly start spewing blood from all orifices, but I trusted the doctor that they had seen this condition before.  The Coumadin is the brand name of a drug named warfarin.  I remembered from somewhere in my past that warfarin is the main ingredient in 'rat poison'.  Evidently some evil scientist had discovered that if you leave a chunk of warfarin in the basement, a rat will eat it and his blood will thin to the point of death.  Very reassuring!

Each of the doctors and nurses confirmed to me that because I had a blood clot in the past that I will be on Coumadin for the rest of my life.  This will require frequent visits to the doctor to check my PT/INR levels.  I was also advised to wear a medical alert necklace to alert medical personnel if I happen to be in an accident and they were wondering why I was bleeding like a stuck pig.  Given that this is a lifelong condition, I might opt for the Medical Alert Tattoo, emblazoned on my chest that says: "Alert-this guy bleeds at the drop of a hat".

Extra Innings!

My good friend Lisa Dooley was texting me daily and said something that I took to heart.  She said, "Jim, you are in extra innings, make the most of it!"  I am not a big baseball fan but I did understand the 'extra innings' concept that Lisa had proposed.  The more I thought of it, the more appropriate it became.  Unlike overtime in basketball, baseball has no time clock.  Extra innings can go on forever as long as you keep coming back.  I still did not know how much time I had but going into extra innings appealed to me because it seemed to give me some control of the outcome.

It is still hard to imagine the dramatic change that takes place with an experience like this.  Your life becomes a little more fragile.  Your mortality is suddenly within reach and you realize that you have much less time on the calendar than previously thought.  As a positive thinker, I welcome the possibilities that are still on the horizon but realize that each second is precious and each experience is a treasure.

So, as I enter into the "Extra Innings" portion of my life, I relish the opportunities ahead.  I will need to keep coming up to bat and giving extra effort if I fall a run or two behind.  I can only think that God has a plan for us, but we need to put in the effort to make every hit count.

Waking up alive!

After my first night in ICU, I was vaguely aware that something serious had happened.  I had gotten a few minutes of sleep between the blood tests and constant checks on blood pressure and oxygen levels. My wife Pam was frantically calling our daughter and other family members giving them an update on my condition.  Our son was on his first cruise and was sailing somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico.  I was still in a fog trying to put the events in some order and figure out exactly what was happening.  A big bag of blood thinner was hung above my bed and hooked via IV into my arm.

I kept trying to see if I could 'feel' the so-called clot that was getting all of the attention.  As much as I tried, there was nothing different.  No sensation of a lump in my chest.  No piercing pain or burning feeling.  Each nurse and doctor that came to my room expressed dismay that my vital signs were still ok given the size of the clot.

With all the somber faces, I had the overwhelming desire to crack a joke about how I was beating this 'blood clot thing' but I kept thinking that it wouldn't be that funny if something took a sudden wrong turn.  From the isolation of the ICU, it was difficult to appreciate the fear and panic that was reaching my family and friends.  My wife was carrying the load with an uncertain future and I can only imagine her state of mind.

People started to pass by my bed and I could barely remember the faces of all of those that visited in the first day or two.  Our Mayor and City Manager stopped by and I was at a loss for words.  As much as I wanted to say that everything was alright, I just didn't know.  My arm was getting stuck so many times that they were running out of veins to poke.

Life changes in a minute

On September 6, 2012, my life changed forever.  I found myself laying on a gurney at the United Hospital Center in Bridgeport, West Virginia with a nurse telling me that I had a life threatening condition.  As the ceiling tiles rushed by on my way to ICU, my life seemed to be slipping away.  My legs were shaking and thoughts were racing through my head.  "Is this it?", "Will I see my granddaughters again?", "Is my wife going to be OK?"  "Will I be able to see my daughter and son again?"  I couldn't believe that this crisis came on me so quickly.

The words 'blood clot' and 'embolism' were seared in my head and I tried to wrap my mind around the vague descriptions provided in snippets by the emergency room doctor.  "What do you mean it is in both of my lungs?"  "Where did it come from?"  "How do you fix this thing?"  Needless to say, it was difficult to comprehend and even more difficult to figure out what was going to be happening in the next few days.  At 61, I had never spent a night in the hospital and never had a serious medical condition.  I would get weak kneed at the site of blood and winced each time I had blood drawn or received a flu shot.

"Why am I not feeling bad?"  I couldn't believe that I am laying on a bed in the Intensive Care Unit and I didn't feel any different than I had for the past month or two.  Sure, I was getting short of breath, but I thought that it was the result of too many donuts and not enough exercise.  When the pulmonary doctor came in to examine me, I jokingly asked if he had accurately read the CAT Scan.  He did not find this funny and assured me that I had a large pulmonary embolism that was lodged between both lungs.

As I laid in bed attached to a gaggle of wires and tubes, the hours ticked away and I couldn't believe that my wonderful life was taking a detour that I did not anticipate less than twelve hours before.  I felt like an actor in a play that would end with a curtain falling and me getting out of bed and going home.  Unfortunately this was not the case.