Venting My Spleen – At Home

We ended the last post as I sat in my recliner, virtually unable to walk 15 feet from where I was, bleeding out internally, holding the phone in my hand.  I stared at it for a few moments – did I really want to call emergency services?

But as I sat there clutching the phone I knew if I did not call I would not last the night,  Of this. I was certain.  This was what it was like to die.  In my case, no pain.  Just an incredible weakness and exhaustion which made me just want to close my eyes and sleep.

I shook it off.  Punch the numbers while you still can!

9-1-1.  “What is your emergency?”

Is your front door open?  No; I can’t get that far.  The back door is open.

“Help is on the way.  Stay with me till they arrive.”  I remember little else on the way to hospital.  Bouncing in the ambulance.  Unconscious.  Racing heart and falling blood pressure.  Blood transfusions.  Somewhere along the line I must have been CAT scanned and the broken spleen seen.

Surgery.  I remember the lights of the O.R. and doctors talking while I was on the edge of life.  A mask was put on my face and taken off.  Wrong size.  A second and instantaneous darkness.

I woke hours later in a raised hospital bed in the ICU – still alive.  Eyes now open, nurses and a doctor came in look at me.

“Do you need anything for pain?”

“No.  When are you going to do the surgery?

A bit of laughter.  “Have you looked at your chest?”  I lifted my gown and saw-a line of metal staples from my belly button to the center of my chest.  “We’ve taken out your ruptured spleen and explored the rest of your gut looking for any other bleeds.  You currently have two drains inserted into your abdomen; one to removed excess fluids which spilled into your belly and one to release any excess pressure below your lungs. And of course a catheter”

Again – “Do you need anything for pain?”

I don’t know about other folks but for me pulling a tooth without anesthetic or yanking off a toe nail is pain.  What I was feeling was a soreness in my gut but certainly not unbearably so.  In fact I was feeling pretty good.

I told the staff “No” and suddenly I became the old man who feels no pain.  Just a tough old bastard.  Seems most of the patients in trauma popped pain pills like M & Ms.  The staff insisted I take Tylenol at least – until I found I was receiving 8 pills a day which did nothing but upset my stomach.  I asked if the hospital corporation had investments in Tylenol.  I had taken more Tylenol in a few days than I had taken in the last two decades  No more Tylenol,

Day three was a bit of a crisis.  I was running a low grade fever and apparently too much gunky stuff was being collected by my abdominal drains.  Signs of an infection or other surgical problem.

“Scan him.”

And so I was rolled to the CAT scan for another look and see.  It was rolling down those corridors that I began to think seriously that I would not get better.  Something wrong would be found.  I would pass from the scene,  In the CAT scan tube, laying there arms above my head I reflected on my life – and I began to get comfortable with the thought that I might die.

After the scan I dozed off to sleep – and nothing was found and the gunky stuff declined – all by itself.

That morning I knew I wasn’t going to die – at least not yet.  The realization of which means you must go on living.  I got out of bed, with assistance.  I could walk and stand.  I sat in a chair; walked around the floor with a therapist and a walker.  Winded.  Short of breath.  But I walked – to  applause.  I hadn’t known how close to death I had been.

I received chest x-rays twice a day and then the word came of another tube to be inserted, this time above my lungs to keep fluids and pressure down.  Doctors made a small incision under my left arm and then pushed a small plastic tube into my chest through my ribs.  .Such fun, but it served to increase my rep as a tough old crank.  I have no doubt I was the favorite of every nurse on the floor.  My daughter, who spoke regularly by phone with the staff laughted.  “You have them all charmed!”

After 11 days all of the tubes were removed and I was discharged.  It was nice to be home.

It is still being determined if the bleed out did any permanent damage to my heart.  I am wearing a monitor.  So far so good.  I am currently at home and getting around the house tending to my basic needs.  Washing my bod, changing clothes making meals, taking my pills and insulin.  I am weak and if I ever fully recover to what I was before it will be months.

I have a support system I can rely on.  Next week the row of staples will be removed.

Thanking all of you for your good wishes.

 

 

About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
This entry was posted in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Venting My Spleen – At Home

  1. beetleypete says:

    Frank, you sell yourself short my friend. You are tough, and that saw you through the darkest moments. Well done, and I have no doubt you will continue to improve.
    Best wishes, pete.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Farida Hakim says:

    Hope you’ll feel better soon 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  3. jfwknifton says:

    Well done, Frank. Now keep yourself safe !

    Liked by 1 person

  4. leggypeggy says:

    Wow, that’s some journey. Glad you’re here to tell it.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Jennie says:

    What an adventure. You are a tough old bird with a big heart. No wonder you survived and charmed all the nurses. I’m glad you’re healing, Frank. Best from New England.

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.