It's not rocket science, it's brain surgery!"
For those of you who already know the story that I am going to write about, bear with me. For those who don't, I'm sorry I didn't let you know what has been going on, but as you will see, things have been a little, well, shall I say, hellish and frightening the last couple of days.
Since Christmas day, I've been having some pretty severe headaches that my family doctor diagnosed as migraines. She prescribed Imitrex, which helps sometimes, but not always... So when one of those buggers hits me, I am usually down for the day and can only lie in a dark, quiet room just waiting for the pain to go away. It's miserable.
This last week I had not one, but TWO hum-dingers that completely took me out of commission... One on Saturday of last week, and another one that hit on Wednesday about an hour before I was leaving work. By the time I got home that night, I could only crawl in the door, take off my shoes and curl up on my couch under a blanket, trying to spend time with my family, but in complete agony. It got so bad that the entire right side of my face became completely paralyzed, my speech started slurring and I later found out that I was mostly incoherent and very confused. I managed to get into my bed and fall asleep at some point.
When I woke up Thursday morning, I still had the headache. Not the mind-numbing one I had the night before, but still a pretty good one, so I called in to work and told Audra I would be late... Thinking that a handful of Ibuprofen and some muscle relaxants would help. They didn't. I got nauseated and sick to my stomach, and ended up staying home all day. When my roommate Kristi got home that evening, she told me how much I had scared her the night before, and that she thought I had shown numerous symptoms of a stroke... So after a little online research on stroke symptoms, we decided it was best to go to the ER and have me checked out. Little did I know what I was in for.
We got there at about 5:45 PM and I checked in. It was one of those crazy nights where the ER was so full, that the only place they could put me was on a bed in the hallway. Two and a half hours after I got there, I finally had a doctor see me. He told me he was concerned and wanted to run some tests, both a CT scan and a Spinal Tap. He didn't really tell me WHY, just that we were going to do the tests. As the night progressed, I endured being stuck numerous times, by numerous people, with numerous gauged needles, all so that they could run any number of tests on me.
There was the Phlebotomist who shall remain nameless for all intended purposes. (for those of you who don't know what a Phlebotomist is, it's a fancy title for one who inflicts severe torture with needles, in order to draw large quantities of blood from places you wouldn't think they could get it, such as the tender undersides of the wrist, the tops of the arms, etc, etc) and then there was the Nurse, or "Mike", as he liked to be called... Who was so nervous about trying to start an I.V. On me that he blew right through the first vein in my arm, which bled all over creation, including under the skin (because he used a needle that was WAY too large) and he then ended up having to insert the I.V. Into the top of my hand, which is another very painful spot... Especially when they flush the lines or inject you with something new. Which they did. Some concoction containing Benadryl, which I tolerated, and then something else, which I could only describe as liquid fire shooting up my arm and into my chest... These two things were supposed to help stop the headaches. They couldn't finish giving me the liquid fire, (which they tried to keep giving me several times until I threatened to punch "Mike" in the face if he attempted another push of the needle) as I seemed to have a bad reaction to it.
Next, they took me to Radiology and gave me a CT Scan. No big deal... Had one before, you just lie in a tube and let the thing take pictures of your brain. Easiest part of my night so far. Piece of cake. Maybe this WASN'T going to be so bad. Oh how wrong I can be sometimes.
So now, I am told that they are going to drain Cerebrospinal Fluid (called CSF) from my lower back... Which involves inserting a needle directly into my spinal cord and withdrawing the fluid that surrounds the brain, while trying not to paralyze you or hit a nerve. The doctor who was to perform this procedure introduced himself as Dr. Miller and told me he was an intern. (Excuse me, did he just say INTERN???? ) And he was going to be taking me back to the "procedure area" with Mike the Nurse to assist him. So far, Mike wasn't at the top of my list for people I wanted assisting in ANYTHING, let alone sticking a needle into my spinal cord. I was wheeled to a dark hallway that was not in use at the time. (Yes, HALLWAY Folks. Remember, the ER was overcrowded that night...) where they proceeded to jerry-rig it with a couple of rolling curtains to give me some sort of privacy. (How thoughtful of them.)Then the fun began.
During the "prep-time", which included me signing my life away, or at least agreeing that I wouldn't sue them if they killed or paralyzed me during the procedure, getting my back soaked in ice-cold betadine, having a shot directly into my spine to "numb me" (HAHAHA, RIGHT!) and listening to my intern Doctor brag about the "Champagne Tap" he had performed the night before (apparently this is a big deal, meaning he didn't contaminate any of the CSF with blood from the needle and taint the samples) he then managed to manipulate me into a very tight fetal position so that he could insert the needle into my spine. I will tell you now, this procedure sucks in the WORST WAY… and it's not a quick thing… once they insert the needle, they have to let the fluid DRIP out… into 4 tubes. One cc per tube. It took between 10 and 15 minutes. Not only did I feel like I had a large, hot pipe in my spine, but the "brilliant doctor" kept hitting the nerve to my left leg and it felt like an electric current was shooting down it. They also gave me nothing for neck support and I had to hold myself in that fetal position the entire time. I almost passed out from it all, and am amazed that I didn't. I think I would have preferred passing out though. The Doctor was an arrogant ass.
So. It's now about midnight. I have been told nothing. No test results, nothing to drink (they won't let me) Poor Kristi is trying to sleep in a chair with her head on a table, after a dinner of vending machine snacks and hospital coffee, while I intermittently doze off to the lull of ambulance sirens and screaming babies in the room across the hall. Around 3:00 am I've had enough. I think that they are ignoring me because I'm not bleeding, running a fever or violently ill in some fashion, and Kristi gets up to see if we can just check out and go home. Just then, the Shift Doctor comes up to talk to me. This is where the REAL fun begins…
He informs me that the reason that it has taken them so long to get to me is because they had to run the tests several times in order to make sure they were getting the same results. It seems they have found red blood cells in my CSF, and the CT scan also showed abnormal pressure in my brain. I looked at him like a dumbstruck deer in the headlights of a car… I had NO idea what this meant, and I should have, but at this point I was so tired I could hardly remember my own name. He told me that they were sending me to Sunrise Hospital Trauma Center in Las Vegas to see a Neurosurgeon, but they couldn't risk sending me by ambulance because it would take an hour and a half to get me there, so they were sending me by Guardian Air (helicopter) and they were on their way to get me.
At this point I was so confused as to what was going on, I could hardly speak. I couldn't react, cry, nothing. Kristi was looking at me and I could see the fear on her face. The doctor told me that I was showing signs of a cerebral aneurysm or a possible brain tumor, and that they didn't have the facilities to treat me in Kingman. The specialists in Las Vegas were skilled in this area and would be able to treat me and perform surgery (SURGERY???? you mean BRAIN SURGERY?????!!!!!) to repair whichever it was. He explained that the blood they found in ALL 4 OF THE VIALS OF CSF had equal levels of red blood cells, and that meant that there was bleeding in my brain. All of the symptoms I had been experiencing were also signs of an aneurysm. He told me that I could die at any moment if it burst, and they needed to get me the proper treatment immediately.
Now I'm sure you have heard of the "life flashing before your eyes" thing… and I can tell you, every word of that is true. I actually had the stupidity to ask the doctor if I could run home and pack a bag while the Guardian Air crew was on its' way, so that I could say goodbye to my children. He told me I would need some things like toiletries, comfortable pajamas, etc, and all I could think of was getting back to my kids somehow. He looked at me like I was CRAZY and said "absolutely NOT!!! You can't leave the hospital!" Kristi took my little bag and got a quick list and ran off into the early morning to get what she could for me before they took me away.
The next 45 minutes were the longest of my life. I sat on that bed in the hallway of the ER with people rushing about, all around me. I saw the looks the staff gave me ("poor thing is a goner") when they passed me by, and I wanted to smack each one of them. I tried to read my book. No good. I suddenly got the bright idea that I should send a text out to all my family and friends so that they would know what had happened to me if I could never say anything to them again - so here I was, almost 4 am, texting the people I cared about with the worst news I have ever had in my life. It was my way of saying a little "goodbye" I think… I didn't know what was going to happen, just that I may die at any moment. I really wasn't even thinking, just reacting. I think I was in shock. (Sorry to those I scared so badly!)
Well, the helicopter arrived to pick me up, and they strapped me on a rolling gurney and got me hooked up to all kinds of fun gadgets so they could monitor me during the flight. Just as they were about to leave, Kristi showed up with my little bag full of things. She was frantic. I felt so bad leaving her like that. She had also called my mom who was getting ready to leave for Vegas in a complete panic, while placing calls to my family back home. It was 4:15 am. She said goodbye to me.
"Angel 2" - the helicopter I got to ride in
The air medics wheeled me out, put me in the helicopter named "Angel 2", and we were on our way, the lights of Kingman fading away with each beat of the blades. It was surreal in a way, and I could only picture the faces of my children, and how I may never get to hold them or tell them how much I loved them again. Or my sisters… my Mom… my Dad. It's times like that when you realize what the most important things in life are.
I started to panic so I tried to distract myself. All of a sudden, the strangest phrase came into my head, and I began to laugh. I couldn't stop. Evil Mr. Burns from the Simpson’s saying in his creepy voice; "It's not rocket science, it's brain surgery!". Okay, so I'm a bit weird, I know… but for some reason, that saying kept popping into my head at the most inopportune moments throughout the remainder of the flight, and I could only giggle. I know those flight medics thought I had lost it. ("It MUST be a hemorrhage or a tumor!") It kept my sanity from completely escaping me during that 45-minute flight, and I was actually able to fall asleep for a brief period. To quote my dear friend Jacque, I can only think of this phrase to attach to that moment of rest; "Blessed Be!!!"
We arrived at the Trauma Center safely, and the pressure in the helicopter didn't cause the aneurysm to burst and kill me instantly, (which was a possibility according to the Kingman doctors) Glory hallelujah! I might live!
Part 2.
We last left off with the flight to Sunrise Medical Trauma Center on Friday morning.
I arrived safely, alive and without losing my mind (or having it erupt on me, so to speak) and was wheeled into the trauma center, which is a scary place all in itself. I was put into room 11. When I say "room", I use the term loosely. I was in an area enclosed by a curtain, and surrounded by people with all sorts of ailments, including one poor little old lady directly across from me who had large bandages on both hands, and was unconscious. She made the most horrible sounds you can imagine, of which I can only describe as a "death rattle". She sounded like she was drowning in her own fluids... And the nurses had to keep suctioning out her throat. My heart went out to her. She was obviously in her last few moments of life. I felt lucky.
After having another round of tests, including MORE blood being removed from my already depleted veins, and another CT scan (this one AGONIZING, as they had to inject Iodine Contrast into my arteries twice in order to enhance the pictures- this was right up there with the liquid fire that they tried to inject me with several hours earlier) I was wheeled back to the Trauma Center to wait for the brain surgeon to appear. During all of this, Mom appeared, looking as frazzled as I've ever seen her, and making record time in getting there (only 40 minutes or so after I did) and proceeded to field one call after another from all of my family members and such. I spoke to each one of my four sisters, who, bless their hearts, had bags packed and at work with them, ready to board a plane to Vegas to be there with me, except Nicole who is very pregnant right now, and shouldn't be flying. Talking to each of them ripped my heart out. Nicole was so upset I could hardly understand her in between sobs, and Kelly started in on me, crying as well... Making me feel awful for living so far away from everyone. That was the only point during ALL of this that I actually broke down and cried. I miss my family.
Dr. Wonderful (or at least I think that is what he called himself) finally showed up, and began speaking to me like a small child. He began by telling me that the doctors in Kingman had royally screwed up my Spinal Tap, and had contaminated not one, but TWO of the vials of CSF with blood from the needle, which in turn caused the widespread panic about my condition. (So much for another "Champagne Tap Party for THAT loser!!!!) He also told me that they performed the procedure wrong, which is why I had elevated levels of brain fluid showing up in the tests. " He basically made a joke about the competency of the entire staff of our Kingman Hospital, just falling short of calling them all idiots. He was actually DUMBFOUNDED when he found out that they had done the Spinal Tap in the hallway.
Eh?? So this is all for nothing?" I thought to myself. Apparently not... Since I had some other underlying issues (Apparantly, I DO still have elevated CSF levels), that have names which I can't even begin to pronounce to you, but the bottom line was that I was NOT in immediate danger of dropping dead, my brain did NOT have a tumor, nor was it bleeding. They were going to run a number more tests on me (Oh Joy, more invasive procedures) to try and pinpoint the reasons for the sudden, blinding headaches, and test me for Sleep Apnea as well... But I WASN'T GOING TO DIE!!!!!!! I DIDN'T NEED BRAIN SURGERY!!!!!!!
So, I was admitted to a room and spent the next 36 hours being stuck more times than I can count, trying to sleep in between needle sticks, and with some sleep disorder contraptions taped all over my face making me look like a circus clown,
all while trying to calm myself down from the whole ordeal and trying to count all the new gray hairs on my head. They wanted to keep me an extra day or two, but I asked if I could please just go home... And amazingly, they let me, with the promise to return to the Neurologist the following week, follow up with a sleep disorder study to properly diagnose me on the Sleep Apnea, and blah, blah, blah. You can imagine, I'm sure.
So, here I am, back home, in my Tempur Pedic bed (can I get another GLORY HALLELULJAH!!??), ordered to do nothing this week but take it easy and rest, (No work for me... I don't know how I'm going to make my rent or truck payment this next month) and taking Prednisone (Steroids) for 6 days to help try and cure my headaches, which are being caused by something called pseudotumor-cerebri and Sleep Apnea, all the while trying to figure out how I'm going to afford the $230 in prescriptions that I'm supposed to be taking for everything on top of the Prednisone (that's AFTER the insurance pays their portion!), as well as preparing myself for the shock of receiving the bill for the Helicopter ride. I've been told it's going to cost anywhere from $10,000 to $60,000, depending on who you ask. Not to mention the other bills I'm sure to receive from all of this. On top of that, I'm now suffering another bout of blinding headaches, which are being caused by the Spinal Tap. They are supposed to be with me for about a week or so. I'm told it's normal, and I am supposed to spend the next few days doing not much more than lying flat because the upright position causes an shift in the fluid pressure, and causes severe headaches until the spinal fluid replenishes itself. Once again, Oh Joy.
Regardless of ANY of this, the bottom line is - NEVER, EVER take life for granted. Every day, every breath, every step we take, every "I love you", every friend, loved one and person in your life is more important than you can ever imagine. The thought of that all being gone in an instant was enough to make me realize that life is the most precious gift we have, and we had better make the best of it. ALWAYS be kind - to EVERYONE. Be the best person you can be, not just when you think people are noticing, but when nobody's watching... because you never know when your last action may be what people remember you by.
To all my friends, family, co-workers and anyone else who has sent me well-wishes throughout this ordeal, especially those who have called, stopped by to see me (Audra), or just said a prayer or sent a thought my way... you are appreciated more than you will ever know. I can't begin to describe to you how loved and cared for I have felt these last few days. It’s helped keep me sane at the scariest moment of my life, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
All my love -
Michelle Marie