Ok, because I clearly STILL don't get FB and some of you can't read Sam's posts, I will fill you in with the unedited short version--as I am a touch worn out right now! Ok, I've come back to this sentence--this isn't such an unedited short version...but no less factual.
After an incident this past spring I decided to start finding out (and doing something about) my horrific "time of the month" issues and my out-of-the-ordinary exceptional tiredness. This resulted in spending nearly all of my summer at or visiting doctor's offices, labs, and various "specialists"...to simply find out that...I am healthy as a horse. Seriously. Symptoms continued and trials of different treatments failed, and although my thyroid function tested fine, I was continually led back to doctors mentioning "thyroid issues". The only issue finally determined was that my thyroid was abnormally large (twice the size of a "normal" one) and had changed in size and shape over months/years. It was left to me to decide further treatment between two or three equally so-so options.
Monday, Sept. 12th I went in for a standard thyroidectomy (removal of my thyroid). I was not nervous and there were no issues whatsoever. I had the surgery done at Tulsa Spine and Specialty and had an exceptionally outstanding staff, surgical team and an angelic recovery nurse! I spent one night for observation, did well and was home by 10:30 or 11:00 am Tuesday, Sept. 13th. I have witnesses who will vouch for my satisfactory behavior and that not only was I a stellar patient while there, but also minded all rules upon my return home.
I immediately took a well-deserved and terribly needed shower, freshened up in some clean clothes and began to construct my "nest" for a week-long rest. A giant pot of homemade chicken noodle soup had been delivered and I was ready to settle down with a bowl right after an equally badly needed bathroom break (sorry, but it's crucial to "the facts"!). The bathroom break was every post-surgery patients dream come true...initially. When finished, I couldn't quite figure out why my shirt felt all wet.
It was about 12:30 pm. Things went downhill from there. My shirt was covered in blood and I was afraid I had "split" something open. When I made it to the sink I realized I had. When my doctor had done the initial surgery a very small "drainhole" of sorts was left outside of my glued incision and that was allowing the drainage of an incredible amount of blood. (sorry--this just grosses me out, but you asked) I could tell I wasn't going to be able to last long, I called Steve who was outside and I called Marie who was cleaning. They both showed up instantly and there were a few moments of trying to decide what to do--call the doctor's office, drive me himself, call 911---after shaking some of the shock off, I grabbed my phone, dialed 911, handed to Marie who was "applying compression" and told her to tell Steve to take it from there.
Emergency services arrived within 6 or 7 minutes I think. My neck was swelling and my throat was being constricted by the growing hematoma in my lower neck. Three firemen and three EMSA ladies (and, I use that term loosely) eventually got me into the ambulance. After many minutes in the ambulance with an issue involving an IV, and me approaching hysteria, they were convinced to leave without a successful IV attempt. The ride to the emergency room was complete with sound and lights. I tried to concentrate on our route, which was circuitous at best. I was continuing to be told to "stay calm", but was also trying to convey the fact that I could tell I would not be able to breath on my own for much longer. My neck/throat was continuing to enlarge, the pain was unimaginable and the bleeding was now internally contained making the situation worse.
At this point I can't be very objective--I was hysterical and knew that I wasn't doing well. They got me out of the ambulance and rolled me in to the building and I think I was screaming something...I don't know exactly what, but I was thinking, "this really is it, I'm terrified and I sure wish someone would do something quick because I can't hold on here much longer". I remember seeing many strangers faces (Steve had followed in his truck) looking at me either in horror or disgust or disbelief. I then remember hurling myself forward in somewhat of a sitting position knowing that was my last moment and being utterly terrified and then falling back to my right and quite honestly my last thought then was..."well, maybe I'm being a bit too dramatic". That was it.
Next thing I knew I woke up in a very dark room (which I later found out wasn't dark at all) with several familiar people's frightened faces looking at me. To my recollection, Steve, my mom, Cal, Sheila, Ryan, Chelsea and Jenene were there. Everyone was "lit up" where I could see them, but everything else was dark and everyone looked very scared. At this point the reality was that CPR had been performed on me in addition to me being intubated (don't know what order that happened) and an emergency surgery performed about 2:00 or 2:30 to clear out the huge hematoma that had formed around my trachea and to cauterize the blood vessel branch that was bleeding. All I knew is that I hurt really bad, still felt like I was suffocating and then realized I had a tube down my throat and could in no way make any sound at all. Enter all the great comments here, but know that I was equally terrified...again. I think I cried a lot and had a multitude of questions and thoughts I wanted to communicate about pain and about my family. It was about 3:00-3:30 pm. Tuesday afternoon--the very same afternoon I was looking forward to sitting down with that nice bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup.
Tuesday night and Wednesday were spent in ICU. It was not a pleasant place to be but I was cognizant enough to realize that I was fortunate to be there. That, however, didn't stop the tube down my throat from being extremely uncomfortable--especially when they wanted to "test" it to see if I was moving any air on my own. Here is where I give a huge hats off to those far braver and stronger than me who live in this state for weeks in full conscientiousness. I do not know how one does that. I was extubated about 9:30 that morning and was able to finally make sense to those recipients of my hand signals and clipboard scratchings. (I had been trying to communicate "socks", not "dogs") I had many visitors and there was laughter and tears and I was happy to have the distraction. Travis and Ryan were there with Steve and I, and Sam and Mike were on their way. I was blessed to have wonderful neighbors who took care of Anne and her school needs till I was in less scary shape to be seen.
Thursday I went to a regular floor. Writing this now the time must have gone much faster than what it seemed like there. But the usual post-surgery stuff happened here, an independence was slowly handed back to me...along with some pretty crappy pain meds. Again--my room was filled with family, friends and laughter and yes--it was exhausting...and I wouldn't have had it any other way. It kept me "un" focused on my pain and my fear. I will never forget Thursday night. For just a bit of time I was in this hospital room with my husband, my oldest son, my oldest daughter and her husband, my youngest son and his fiance, my youngest daughter and our priest. We had a time of family prayer with Father Joe and he blessed and anointed me. We had laughter and I held back many, many tears of joy.
Friday my "miracle" doctor, Dr. Siemens waltzed in and exclaimed, "let's get outta here this morning"! I held him at bay for a bit due to some nervousness I had going home quite so soon. But by 2:30 on Friday I was back home.
My mother, Judy and step-dad, Cal, my father Norman and step-mom, Connie, my sister Sheila and a dear family friend, Jenene Howland, (who calmed us all through every single moment) and my army of friends were by my side always--in spirit and in person. They felt my pain, and some are still as scared as me. But, for the most part, they kept me laughing through it all and kept me focused on what was important. With each person I saw and each person I've spoken to I thank God and all the amazing health care professionals for giving me additional time and moments here. As drama queenie as this all sounds, it is truly heartfelt. I wasn't ready to "go" when I knew I was going...in fact, I was a little p.o'd about the whole thing before I had to finally give in. So to each of you, regardless of the amount of time we see or spend with each other, please know that our paths have crossed for a reason and I will try my best to faithfully appreciate whatever our connection, each and every day.
Thank you for your prayers, your thoughts, your jokes, your tears--and mostly your presence.
Stephanie
