Well, this week was centered around me.
A week ago today, Sunday, March 22, 2015, I had a pulmonary embolism...and I'm still here to tell about it. Praise the Lord for His mercy.
How in the world does a fairly healthy 35 year old stay-at-home mom end up in such a life-threatening situation?
The answers are still lingering. One thing we know, is that I had had nasal surgery (septoplasty and turbinate reduction) five days before. I was doing well through it though. I still had nose splints in, and could not breathe at all through my nose, but I was doing well for the point I was post surgery.
In fact, that day I felt well enough that I decided to go to church. It was my first outing since the surgery. I was still easily exhausted, but I really did feel like I was on the downhill swing from this thing. That I had conquered the worst, and made it through.
You just don't know, what you just don't know though.
That night I went to bed, was still sleeping reclined as I had been instructed. It took me a long time to fall asleep, as usual, but at some point, I obviously had. Because in an INSTANT, I was jolted wide awake because my lungs had just completely stopped.
I sat up trying to gasp, breathe, anything, and I wasn't able to get any air at all. It was like someone had taken plastic wrap and covered my airway. Also, at the very moment I was jolted, I remember this very distinct sound and feeling of "whoosh" that went with it, that was part of what jolted me alert.
After several seconds (that seemed much longer), I finally got a cough to come out, and then coughed like crazy trying to catch my breathe. The adrenaline was definitely pumping, and my brain was on overdrive trying to decide "WHAT JUST HAPPENED TO ME?!"
I sat there with my heart beating out of my chest for a few minutes, and took a drink and decided I must have choked on my saliva or something. I mean, I even wondered if a fly had flown in my mouth since I was mouth breathing so much. LOL I had no idea what to think about it.
I took a drink to wet my throat, and then I laid back down to sleep. When we got up that morning, I told my husband that I thought I had had a sleep apnea episode that night. I sort of laughed about it, and said, "Yeah, I don't know. I just stopped breathing for a second, and it took me a minute to catch my breathe. I'm surprised I didn't wake you."
I didn't think anything more of it, honestly. It was scary, but it was over quickly, and I did catch my breathe, so all was OK...so I thought.
However, the next morning, I realized that I had a heaviness in my chest, almost like when a chest cold sets in overnight. I just thought, "Uggggghhhhh!!! I feel bad" but never related it to the event the night before. I realized that day too that I was having trouble breathing, but if I was setting up a chest cold, then that would make sense.
Since I already had a post-op appointment for the next day with a doctor, I just decided that if was still feeling bad tomorrow, I would bring it up to him, and see if it's something to worry about. Well, the next day, I was still feeling bad. I was having real trouble doing anything, really. I was getting completely out-of-breathe just walking across the floor. It was strange. I didn't know what was going on.
So, at the doctor's appointment, I brought it up. I said that I had this weird heaviness in my chest, and was having some trouble breathing.
He told me that it was common to get drainage with the type of surgery I had, and that he thought I'd be feeling a lot better when he took the nose splints out. So, without doing any type of physical exam of me by checking my vitals or anything, he pulled out the splints, and then said, "See you in a month."
So, I thought then that if he wasn't concerned, then I guess I shouldn't be. My husband, however, was EXTREMELY concerned. He wanted to take me to the E.R. right then because he said I was pale as a ghost. I'm a white-white-white girl though, so pale as a ghost is kind of my thing. :)
I said I wanted to see how I did with the splints out. See if it really did help. The next day though, I was still feeling just as bad. I had a counseling appointment that afternoon, and the walk it took me from the parking lot, up some stairs, to her office, had me so breathless that it took me a good five minutes to catch my breathe. She looked concerned for me, saying, "Breathe...just breathe! Calm down and breathe."
And I told her, "I'm trying, I've just been having some difficulties these last few days. I just had surgery, and I think I'm setting up something in my lungs."
I knew then that I needed to really see a doc for answers. That was definitely not normal. It was past office hours by the time I got home that day, so I decided to just wait and call first thing in the morning to our family doctor. They had caught wheezing issues with me before, so I felt confident they could help me out.
First thing the next morning, Thursday, March 26, 2015, I called our family doctor. They couldn't get me in until 3:30 p.m., but I took it because I knew I really needed to be seen. I also decided that day to take my kids to the park for lunch because I felt bad that for the past two weeks I had been feeling so bad with my recovery, we hadn't done anything. It was a beautiful day, and I wanted them to get to do something fun. It was tough on me, but I just sat on a bench and watched while they played. I didn't stay long, and was exhausted by the time I got home.
My appointment time finally arrived, and off I went to the doctor with my 6 and 4 year olds in tow. It was a long wait at the office that day, and I had to wait 45 minutes in the waiting room before even being called back. The nurse was taking my vitals, and asked me what I was coming in for. I said that I had recently had surgery, and that I was having some chest heaviness with some breathing troubles. I told her I thought it might be an asthma attack or something like that. The next thing she stares hard at me, and said, "Do you normally have high blood pressure?!"
I told her that I didn't, and then her whole facial countenance changed to a very, very concerned look. I didn't know what to think. It wasn't long before I had two doctors come in the room listening to my lungs, and they said, "It sounds tight, but we don't hear any wheezes or crackles."
Then they dropped the bomb. My BP had ran 160/90 that day. My oxygen was at 93%, and my pulse was racing in the 150's. The doc told me I needed to go directly to the ER because I was showing all the signs and symptoms of a pulmonary embolism. She said, "I'm not saying that's what it is, but if it is, that's a very serious condition, and we really need to get it ruled out quickly. The quickest way is to be checked out through the ER."
So, off to the ER I went. My husband met me at the hospital to take the kids to our neighbor, and then I went on in to wait to be seen there. They were very busy there that night too, so I had a long wait even for that. There was a big, red sign on the front desk that said, "If you are having chest pains and difficulty breathing, you need to let us know immediately."
I did tell them that, but it didn't change how long I waited. I think they looked at me, and thought here is a young 30 year old woman, probably just trolling the ER for drugs. It happens so much that those of us who are NOT like that, are still treated with the same stigma.
After having a few tests,(EKG, chest x-ray, and blood tests) the doc said that my blood test (D-Dimer) had indicated probability of a clot. So, it was then that I had to have a CT Scan of my chest done (with and without iodine). I was scared now. This was obviously not just a normal congestion, bronchitis, pneumonia, or asthma issue. This was that "worst case moment" coming to life.
As I lay on the CT table being scanned, Jesus and I had a long talk. I grabbed hold of His hand right then and there, and knew I had no choice but to completely trust Him in however this would turn out. I knew something was wrong with me. I needed an answer, even if it was a hard answer.
I put complete trust that if God had decided that my time was up, that He had an even better plan for my kids than anything that I myself could give for them with me here. I didn't want to leave them, but I accepted peace in that moment over my own life and death, and over their lives.
I did shed a few small tears in that moment from fear, but overall, God kept me AMAZINGLY strong through it. He was there for me, no question about it.
It wasn't long before a doctor came in and let me know that the scan had come back positive for clots in my lungs (multiple clots in both lungs), and that I was definitely going to be admitted, and started on blood thinners right away. I actually got my first dose, right there in the E.R.
I've been learning all I can these days that I've spent in the hospital, trying to prepare myself for what life is like post-pulmonary embolism. I'm feeling tons of emotions.
The first night was when I had realized that that strange moment on Sunday night was the actual moment this all happened, and I replayed it a thousand times over with more and more realization every time.
The one comfort I can bring from it, is that, if I had died that night, I believe it would have truly been quick and painless. It came upon me so fast, I didn't have time to be afraid. The fear didn't set in until I got my breathe back. And I was not in any pain whatsoever, I just couldn't breathe. So, that's comforting.
Then I think about it from the perspective of my family, and it becomes horribly terrifying for them. My husband didn't wake up from all of the coughing and hacking I did when I did catch my breathe, so if I hadn't caught my breathe, I doubt he would have woken then either. So, to him I would have unexplainably just died in my sleep. That's horrible for him. He wouldn't have had a clue what happened. I was fine, and then I wasn't. No warning AT ALL!!
The other thought that gets to me is that the way most mornings work is that at the very crack of dawn my 4 year old daughter comes and crawls in bed with me. That morning would not have been any different, and so she would likely have been the first to discover that something was wrong with me. I doubt she would have understood, but she would have been very frustrated with me, and the scene would have been really dramatic and horrible as it continued to unfold.
For some reason though, that's not how the night went, and God showed great mercy to me, I suppose because He still has big plans for me to accomplish. My work is not done. So, now I need to get busy for God. I need to make good of this gift He has given me.
While I'm in the hospital, my kids are spread out between relatives having the time of their lives. They don't know the scary stuff that's all happened. They just know that Mom is sick and in the hospital. But, as I said, we've been down this road as a family before, so it was old hat to them.
As I was looking at this picture today of my little two watching a movie, and having fun with their cousins, I looked at their eyes and their happy faces, and just thought, "Wow, This week could have been very, very different for them."
Just praise God they didn't have to go through that. My life will end when God decides, and I am prepared any day that it may be. I have peace in my heart over my eternity. So, I'm not afraid to die at all. I'm afraid of PAIN, but I'm not afraid of death. However, I obviously really do not want to burden my family with that type of trauma and grief to have to carry for the rest of their lives. But, I do still have peace that IF it is decided that my time is done, God is going to take care of my family and help see them through.
He is good. He is faithful. And I trust Him with my life and with my death. AMEN!
