Hospital Chronicles, Part 4 - Hospital Bed

A hospital bed! I could not believe that after almost 10 hours of waiting I was finally taken upstairs and given a hospital bed of my very own. A kindly nurse gave me two hospital gowns to put on - one that tied in back, and one to wear like a robe that tied in front. The gowns are just as bad as you think they are; wear just one and your backside is left totally exposed.

The kind nurse inserted an IV line into my vein and expertly taped it for me. I then meet the first of the many doctors I would be seeing over the course of my stay. She was one of my favorites. She was nice, young and pretty and had a caring and gentle bedside manner. If Bee had been there she would have called her a Fairy Princess Doctor, or F.P. Doctor for short. My F.P. Doctor told me that it was her opinion that I didn't have lung cancer, but rather tuberculosis or maybe a bacterial or fungal infection instead. Something was going on in my lungs and my platelets were still extremely high, but she really did not think it was cancer. This immediately cheered me up. She told me that they would do multiple tests on me in order to find out what was going on. She left me, but for the first time on that extremely long day I felt hope. Then three lung specialists came in and immediately burst my bubble. These officious pulmonary doctors told me that they were very concerned with the lesion on my lung and that there was a possibility that it could be cancer, TB, or a fungal infection. My stomach did a funny flip when I heard lung cancer being mentioned again. I wanted my F.P. Doctor back. They asked me if I had a family history of lung cancer. My grandfather had lung cancer, but he was a heavy smoker and a fireman who had been in a lot of burning buildings full of smoke and asbestos. He had passed out from smoke inhalation multiple times and had to be pulled out of the flames by his firemen brethren, which can't be good for your lungs. Sparky's dad had also died from lung cancer. He too was a heavy smoker as well as a soldier in World War II who spent his tour of duty to his country on an asbestos lined submarine. Sparky and I had both watched our loved ones die from this deadly disease, and we knew firsthand how devastating it was.

The doctors said they were going to take more x-rays, which immediately concerned me. I had already had two chest x-rays done that day, plus one from a week ago. Weren't all of these x-rays dangerous? One of the doctors told me that flying in an airplane exposed you to more radiation than the x-rays did, which made me feel better. They wanted to do multiple x-rays from different angles in order to get a more complete picture of my lungs. Then they would do a CAT Scan. And they would also do a TB skin test as well as three TB sputum tests, which consists of spitting up mucus from your lungs into a cup. How lovely. And sometime in the next day or two a surgeon would perform a bronchoscopy on me. This is done by inserting a flexible tube with a camera down your throat and into your airways in order to take pictures of your lungs. It would be performed under general anesthesia. I did not like the sound of this. And then the doctors told me that my high platelets were a concern because they caused the blood to be too thick which meant that blood clots could occur. This condition is known as thrombocytosis. In order to thin my blood I would be given a daily injection of medication into my stomach. I was told that I was also very anemic and would have to take supplemental iron pills. And a hematologist would meet with me later in the week to further discuss the problem. But the first thing on my agenda was to get those chest x-rays.

It was now about four in the morning. I suddenly remembered that I had Green Lambie with me, so I took it out of my bag and held on to it. It somehow made me feel more secure, and I understood why Bee loved it so much. My nice nurse came and wheeled me down to radiology. The radiologist had me pose standing up, laying down on each side, and then flat on my back. It was uncomfortable and seemed to take forever. I was then wheeled back up to my room were I waited some more. I was too anxious to sleep so I just numbly sat on the bed waiting for the next procedure. At 5:30 I was wheeled down to get the CAT Scan. I was placed onto the table of the machine and a liquid was injected into my IV. Suddenly I had a metallic taste in my mouth, I felt a warm flush across my chest, and I had the sensation that I had peed my pants. A computer voice told me what to do: "Hold you breath for three seconds. Now breathe." Scans were taken of my lungs as the table moved me inside of the machine  And then it was over. Luckily I hadn't really peed my pants. As I was wheeled back up to my room I felt a bit like a helpless kid tightly clutching my daughter's Green Lambie. Back in the room one of the doctors gave me the TB skin test and I was told that I was going to be moved into a contagion room. Just in case I had TB they wanted to keep me away from others so that I wouldn't infect them. This room was self contained and everybody who entered it would have to wear a mask and gloves. 

My nice nurse came into the contagion room with me and hooked me up to various machines: electrodes were place on my chest and attached to a heart rate machine; my IV was hooked up to bags of antibiotics; a blood pressure cuff was strapped around my arm and its machine measured my blood pressure every two hours. My nice nurse was getting off her shift so she said goodbye to me and wished me luck. By this time it was seven in the morning. Then my F.P. Doctor came in and told me that I would be moved upstairs to a permanent bed sometime tomorrow, and then they would perform the bronchoscopy. She turned the lights off and told me to get some rest. I was suddenly alone in this tiny, dark, cramped windowless room. The machines beeped and hummed. I held Green Lambie and the emotions of the day whirled around in my mind. Why did some doctors say I might have cancer while others said I probably didn't? Was it just a matter of semantics? What was wrong with me? How long was I going to be in here? How were Sparky and Bee doing? How could I ever sleep in this goddamned noisy room? Why were my platelets so high? Why had I lost so much weight? Was my F.P. Doctor right? Or was I going to die? That thought scared me the most, but I know that death is inevitable and there is not a damn thing you can do about it. But somehow I fell into a dreamless sleep, and thankfully didn't have to think about any of it for awhile.

(to be continued...)