Mood:
not sureNow Playing: The Uncomfortable Pastor
October 7, 2019, I suffered a stroke. I had assumed that such a development comes with something like a thunder clap, but it didn’t. I just began noticing symptoms that seemed stroke-like. I lost strength on the right side, and it felt kind of like the aftermath of a cramp but in a continuing way. My walking, speaking, swallowing, grasping, writing, singing, playing trumpet all suffered.
So I did what you are supposed to do at a time like that. I drove my wife and myself to the ER (emergency room at the hospital). Well, the conventional wisdom actually is to call 911! The ER where we live has not had the best reputation, but I testify that they treated me well. They were quick to check me in and begin administering tests. Before all was done I had received two cat scans (one without and one with contrast), an echocardiogram, blood tests, and an MRI.
The echocardiogram was administered expertly, actually, in my opinion, handled better than the one I get annually through my cardiologist. Before the MRI they asked what kind of music I liked, and that played during the procedure. If I ever have one again, I think I would decline the music; the machine made various noises that had a kind of music of its own! I tried to concentrate on it.
When we arrived it was, of course, late in the evening, close to the next day. I was kept in ER until early morning when I was moved to an observational room. My total stay there was about twenty-two hours.
This is not a critique of the entire health care industry; it is only my extremely limited experience. There was good, and there was bad.
My primary care physician sees me once a year whether I need it or not. If I need to, I see him at other times. When I asked him what to do when I experience a problem, he said, “Go to ER.” Interestingly, the doctors in ER don’t know me except for the tests’ reports. They don’t have access to my history. So while they were nice enough, they are handicapped. The nurses also were personable.
Not once during the twenty-two or so hours I was there did the hospital offer me food or water. The wall chart in my observation room said NPO. I don’t know what that stands for, but it apparently meant that I was to receive no food. But no water? Again apparently that was because they were planning the MRI for about 7 AM. Actually it did not happen until 2:15 PM. Fortunately my daughter-in-law was there, and she smuggled me some food and drink. She herself is a nurse not employed by this hospital, but she realized the situation and did something to rectify it. Late that afternoon I did order in some supper, but again the hospital did not offer it, though someone else informed me it was possible.
The doctors had told me that if the tests were ok, I could go home later in the afternoon of that day. But time dragged on, and I was not released. Then a doctor came in and told me they still did not have all the results. Therefore, I should stay overnight, and in the morning he could share those results with me and send me home with new prescriptions.
Now, I have taken a ‘baby’ aspirin daily ever since my mitral valve repair in 2013. The doctors at the hospital recommended I increase that to the ‘adult’ size. Also, they wanted to add a statin drug to combat the cholesterol. I did not agree with the statin because of its negative effects and informed them of that. We deduced later how they settled on those prescriptions. They have four precursors of stroke, and two did not apply to me. One that might was cholesterol, and that must be treated. I have later discovered through my own simple research that other conditions can produce stroke-like symptoms. I don’t know if they ever considered those possibilities.
I didn’t think I needed to pay for another day at the hospital just to hear the results of tests in the morning. My daughter-in-law said I could check myself out, and so I did that evening. Checking yourself out can create problems apparently, because the hospital is no longer responsible for you. We did enquire if Medicare would refuse payment for the hospital if I checked myself out, and we were told they would still pay. Of course, I would have to pay something as usual, and that would also increase with another day there.
So in the end I left the hospital with some bills to pay after Medicare decided what it would pay and taking now an increase in aspirin.
We asked that test results be sent to my primary physician and to my cardiologist. So, soon the phone calls began. They wanted to see me. They didn’t see me until weeks after the event, but that didn’t matter.
So off to the cardiologist. He prescribes a yearly echocardiogram, and for some unknown-to-me reason he had no follow-up visit this past summer. So he would like to see me now. He ordered for me an EKG on this visit, and that turned out fine. Then he said I should absolutely not be taking more than ‘baby’ aspirin. So now I’m back to taking exactly what I was before the stroke, but we are hoping for a better outcome! And he assigned me to wear a heart monitor. The system was down, but they would send me one, and I could set it up and manage it myself.
Then it was off to my primary care doctor. There were questions and answers and a dismissal with a recommendation of seeing a neurologist. That seemed logical enough, except that again I did some research and decided against going to a neurologist after hearing that they would probably do no more than my primary care physician other than prescribing probably some horrendous drugs that I wouldn’t want to take.
Some weeks went by and finally the heart monitor came. It operated ok initially, and then I began having problems with the equipment. I can’t even remember all the trouble, but I did finally figure out some of it. I was confused. The doctor said to wear the monitor. It turns out you don’t actually wear the monitor. What you do wear is a sensor which is taped to your chest. (I had to do this once before, and my skin wouldn’t even tolerate the sensitive version. Months later the skin on my chest looked almost normal again.) There is a monitor which can be in your pocket or anywhere nearby (within thirty feet), and it looks like a smart phone. Actually, it is an Android phone dedicated to transmitting data to wherever the company has its equipment. So the monitor you wear isn’t a monitor--it is a sensor. And there is a monitor, but it’s really a phone. Some of the verbiage confused me. Once I got that straightened out, we began to move toward smoother functioning.
But wait a minute. Now my monitor was telling me “No Communication.” I had to call support to see what that was all about. It turned out I had a defective sensor apparently, and it wouldn’t keep a charge as long as they are supposed to. This meant that I had to remove and apply the patch which holds the sensor more often and irritate my skin more. Not only that, but I ran out of patches, so I had to also use the alternative method which involved taping several separate electrodes to my skin and hanging the sensor from a cord around my neck. They should give me a discount for their failing equipment. I need to add that the patch adhesive must be improved, because it did not irritate as badly as the previous time. And the electrodes did not bother my skin as much as the earlier time.
Through all this I have had great help. My wife, Ruth, is ever helpful, and so is my daughter-in-law. In fact, now I am calling her my health coach. It is special to have a health coach who has a great medical mind.
During all this I have been doing the unthinkable in seeing our chiropractor. Before you begin to scoff, let me say that he has made a specialty of studying the brain, harm done to it, and treatment to help it recover. He is the one who is actually doing something proactive to help me to build up and hopefully ward off a repeat or something worse. I am receiving laser brain treatments from his staff, and he has directed me to a food supplement that helps to make blood vessels more flexible.
As I write this I am recovering. I am able to do most everything. Most days I do an exercise regimen for post stroke victims, and that can really wear me out, but it’s helping. I had difficulty mounting and dismounting a bicycle or motorcycle, so those were off limits, but by now I have ridden a few times.
During all this, I have thought about my relationship with God. In the hospital when I didn’t really know what was happening I thought how sweet it would be to be ushered into the presence of Jesus. I so look forward to that!
It’s kind of funny, but at the same time I do wish to remain here for a while, because Ruth needs me. And now I need her. We have laughed and shared with many friends that since her left side isn’t so good and my right side isn’t so good, we lean on each other and get along just fine.
And I’m in the middle of a project. (I should quit taking on projects!) I have often had a prayer of being able to finish a project before the Lord takes me. I don’t want to leave a mess for someone else. I suppose they would manage somehow. Right now I am in the middle of restoring an 1851 square grand piano, and there is no one else interested enough or able to do it in our area. I’d like to finish that.
The Lord has our days numbered. He will do what is good and right.
So what will I do if another health crisis arises? I don’t know. I really don’t know.
Posted by turbooster
at 10:28 PM MST
