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.
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
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!
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!
Monday, September 17, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, September 15, 2012
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.
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".
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.
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.
Friday, September 14, 2012
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.
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.
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.
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