It all began with a wonderful mini vacation to Myrtle Beach. I was really pumped about getting a free trip to the beach and couldn’t have picked a better spot if I had tried. Joining me were dear friends with whom I’ve enjoyed many special trips through the last twenty-five years or so. We always spend a lot of time reminiscing and talking about all the good times we have had through the years. It’s always a relaxing time, no matter where we are since we know the drill about who gets up early to walk on the beach and who sleeps in and who likes what to eat for breakfast.
After a couple of days of relaxing, dining out, and enjoying the beautiful weather I began to have some pain in a place that nobody wants to have pain when you must do a lot of sitting. I knew it was a long drive, but I had divided my time to make the trip in two days, so I wouldn’t have to do so much sitting in one day. I was uncomfortable but didn’t think too much about it at first. A couple of times I basked in the warm water of the hot tub, relaxing and feeling my sore body relax the moment I got in. We enjoyed the week together, said our goodbyes and on the long drive home, I was miserable. I managed to get through the week-end and on Monday morning, I called my primary physician for an appointment.
Now, this young man who sees me is a licensed nurse practitioner. He’s is a sweet guy, but he’s kind of young and I was in a pretty awkward situation telling him my problem. He said, “can I look at it”? After three days of misery, I didn’t care who looked at it, I just wanted it fixed. I rolled over on the table and he and the nurse peeked. He calmly said, “you’ve got shingles”! Oh, My Lord! Please tell me this isn’t happening. He said I was contagious as long as there were blisters and he mumbled something about some cream and antiviral meds and that it may take six to eight weeks or even more before it was well. YIKES! The nurse said she would call the drug store and I stopped by and picked up the ointment on the way home. A week later, I’m itching like crazy and hurting at the same time and feeling miserable. Typical in my life, somebody messed up somewhere and come to find out, I was supposed to be on a drug that I didn’t get for the Shingles virus. So, I get the pills a week late and, in the meantime, the Shingles had spread to an unmentionable place. Trust me on this, nobody, but nobody should ever have to go through shingles on the sitting down area for six weeks. So, the summer from hell begins.
I had not even gotten over that misery before my "Mother" services were needed. My beautiful baby daughter was in trouble with heart problems. Arrangements had to be made quickly to get to the hospital in Atlanta which started the wheels turning for a whole series of hospital stays. Guest quarters at hospitals are a God sent gift for out of town family who need to stay nearby their loved one. I was able to stay one night at the hospital’s quarters and the next night was arranged in another motel for me to have the same rate as theirs since they only had one night available. Fortunately, the hospital stay was only a two-day stint. I pulled up my big girl britches, drove into Atlanta and out with my daughter in tow. One ablation down and another one to go. I called out for my prayer warriors and they didn’t disappoint. My girl was prayed over by people even I didn’t know just because I asked for prayers from my wide circle of friends as well as hers.
The second ablation took place a couple of weeks later in Athens Piedmont Hospital, and seemed to be uneventful in terms of complications and we were able to go home the same day. I stayed in Madison for a couple of days and felt comfortable that things were OK enough for me to return home. Less than a week later, she’s back at the hospital in ER with difficulty breathing. So back to Athens I go.
Packing is unbelievably hard when you don’t know how long you’re going to be gone and what the weather will be. I managed to throw some of my easy care, travelling clothes, shoes, and cosmetics together, haul them down the hall, in the elevator, and out to my car. It’s a two-hour drive to Athens at best. I was going to my daughter no matter how far it was and had no idea how long I would be there, what her condition was, and how I could possibly hold it together to be there for her. Once again, I was lucky enough to get guest quarters from the hospital and had a place to rest and sleep when I needed to. The facility has no frills, but I sure was happy to have it. It was about two blocks of walking, however to get to the Cardiology wing where she was taken.
Unfortunately, the two ablations caused too much trauma to the heart wall and the pericardium filled with blood. She was seriously ill and after a couple of days trying to resolve the problem, it was decided that she would need a Pericardial Window procedure to remove the blood from the lining of the heart. By now, the impact of what had happened and what was about to take place was beginning to set it. I was terrified! I begged God to save my girl. Once again, I circled the prayer wagons and warriors and begged for prayers for her safety and healing. This complication is extremely rare and is life threatening and comes with its own set of possible side effects. We were just beginning.
After several days, the doctors were anxious to release her from the hospital. We asked if she could go to a rehab facility until she was able to manage at home. The day before she was to be released, she developed a staph infection in the surgical site which was three to four inches long. Antibiotics were started intravenously right away, and the wound was packed. There was a hole through the surgical wound to the pericardium after the surgeon removed several of the staples to treat the infection. She was on complete bed rest and very weak. I spent several hours a day watching the color drain from her face and anxiety take over her mind. She was very worried about her children, her job, and her Momma. Fortunately, the job part was taken care of immediately as she was placed on 90-day short term disability and she was able to remove that worry. The others, not so much. Momma’s always worry about their children.
Hospitalists are the attending physicians and there was one for every single issue. In one day, she saw fourteen doctors who prodded and poked and changed meds from one thing to another. One wanted a wound vac. One didn’t want the wound vac. One wanted to do wet and dry dressings. One wanted to do something else. In the meantime, my daughter could not even walk to the bathroom unassisted.
Ultimately, after almost two weeks, she was released to St. Mary’s Rehab center. The days were endless for her and I was so exhausted when I returned to my room I slept like a baby. Of course, there was no coffee maker. Only a microwave and small refrigerator. I made a run to the nearest grocery store for necessities like instant coffee, milk and cereal. Somehow a bottle of Chardonnay jumped in my basket along with a cork screw. I bought a cup of ice and I swiped some plastic utensils and napkins from the cafeteria. In addition, I managed to keep my record of dropping something every morning and spilled a whole glass of milk which ran down the cabinets and the floor. No mop. No paper towels. No dish soap. I made a mental note to pick up those type of emergency items at the store.
St. Mary’s Rehab was not expecting to receive a patient with a staph infection, wound vac, and unable to walk. The discharge papers were all incomplete or just plain wrong as far as her needs and medications. More confusion about doctors and more conflicting orders regarding the wound care. The rehab was not a setting for a critically ill patient, but hospitals don’t like to keep patients until they are well. The sooner they can get you out, the better. After two weeks she was sent home with a wound vac, pic line for self-medicating, a wheel chair, rollator, and enough medication to sink a battleship. Home health care nurse would be coming three times a week and PT would be coming twice a week. The pain was severe, and the anxiety was overwhelming, so the medication had her sedated enough that she was a fall risk and slept most all the time. The house looks like an infirmary and everywhere you looked was a box of gauze pads, needles, antibiotic fluids, water bottles, pill containers and on and on. She was very sick.
Of course, the very first night, we had our first crisis when her wound vac stopped pumping. I panicked while she got on the phone with somebody who instructed her to get something and cut it into strips, and on and on while I’m almost having a heart attack trying to help but not knowing what strips to cut and where to put them. We finally managed to remake the bandage on the wound and all was well. By then we are both totally toast.
After one week, she developed a severe problem breathing. Back to the hospital. Congestive heart failure this time. So now we’ve got another whole new problem. She was immediately put on diuretics to remove the fluid from her body. They removed two liters the first night. Then things started going crazy with her kidney function and so fluid and sodium were restricted. Another week of hospital inpatient. Another week of guest quarters and walking up the hill and down and hauling luggage, snacks, water, and meals from one place to another. By this time, we both were pretty much bummed out. One day as I was giving her a bath in her room, we just could not believe what was happening. We were testy with each other over the least thing, and then we were hysterically laughing at the whole situation. It was one of those “you had to be there” moments where everything just crashed in on us and we let loose some tension by laughing until we cried. Finally, after another week, I loaded up my stuff, loaded up her and her stuff, and we arrived back in Madison just about dinner time. A total of 40 days in one hospital or another since June 13.
Two more weeks with her at home as driver for doctor appointments, kitchen police, nurse, cook, shopper, and then I was able to feel good enough about her, so I could go come home. I am thankful that I was able to be able to cry and laugh with her. We got up close and personal as only Momma’s and daughters can do. She continues to recuperate, regroup, reanalyze her life style, and is finally free of the wound vac, pic line and the wound is healing. Her kidneys are damaged, and it will take a couple of months to determine the extent of the damage. The original heart conditions, A fib and A flutter will more than likely need to be addressed again but for the moment, she’s stable and no longer needs pain medication. Her entire lifestyle must change, and she is on a mission to make herself well and as healthy as possible. It won’t happen overnight. It won’t be easy. But, with the determination and encouragement she has received, she’ll make it. She’ll be returning to work in a few days. God is always good, and we are forever grateful for the prayers, calls, cards, texts, flowers, and genuine and generous love we been given by so many.
