Wednesday – 6/18/2014

I guess it was bound to happen at some point.

Saturday morning, several hours before the highly anticipated Belmont Stakes horse race, Tanya drove me to the hospital. I was struggling to breathe normally. I felt like I was running wind sprints while breathing through a drinking straw.

I hadn’t slept a wink in a few days, up all night coughing and trying to take as many deep breaths as I could. For the past few days, my nose and eyes were very runny, leaving me to assume I was in the midst of a summer allergy onslaught.

I had decided against going to the hospital Friday evening, thinking the crummy feeling would soon pass. However, things were clearly getting worse. It was apparent that I could no longer put it off.

Since it was getting harder to get quality breaths, the closest hospital made the most sense, even if they weren’t exactly familiar with spinal cord injuries. We headed to St. John’s Hospital, only 2 miles away. After all, I was under the assumption I would get a chest x-ray, perhaps a shot of something and be home in time to watch California Chrome run for the Triple Crown.

Failed assumption.

As soon as I huffed and puffed my wheelchair into the Emergency Room lobby I asked for some oxygen. It was obvious something wasn’t right and I was immediately brought into a room for further examination.

My pulse ox was 84%, prompting them to hook me up to 5 liters of oxygen, which had to be increased to 10 L in order to get my pulse ox to remain above 90. An X-Ray revealed that I had some cloudiness in my lower right lung, which was causing the diminished airflow. It was diminished enough to the point that the ER doctor told me that he wanted to admit me overnight.

I really didn’t want to stay in the hospital and contemplated going home, but eventually my good sense took over and I relented. I tried to negotiate to spend a few more minutes outside in the sun, but once I had consented to be admitted, certain freedoms were relinquished. There would be no sun for me. At least not for the next 10 days.

A few hours later, I was admitted to the ICU.

By Saturday night, things were even worse. The fluids I had been receiving were not bringing my blood pressure up which was hovering around 75/45. One of the doctors wanted to put a catheter into my neck to stabilize my pressure. I was against this and told him he did not have my permission to do so. If things got worse, I at least wanted to consult with my SCI physician at Metro. Spinal cord injuries typically cause the blood pressure to run low (my normal BP is 100/60). I felt that, while his intentions were good, this doctor was jumping the gun and we needed to give it more time.

The other issue, which I took even a more firm stance on, was that he wanted my permission to intubate me and stick a breathing tube down my throat. He also warned that a tracheotomy might need to be performed. He was concerned that my O2 levels were too low, and I was straining too much to breathe.

Absolutely not.

I made it very clear to the doctor that under no circumstances was he to perform a tracheotomy. I had confidence in my ability to breathe on my own, even with the assistance of oxygen, and was not about to go back on a ventilator.

The following day another x-ray was taken, which showed much more cloudiness in the right lung, as well as some beginning to form in the left lung.

After not having as much as a sniffle for the past four and half years, I had now contracted double pneumonia. I was pretty thrown by the revelation. I’ve been working out regularly, eating well, staying active, using my cough assist when needed, etc.

How could this have happened?

Perhaps everything I had done the previous week, including being around others at my high school reunion had led to me developing an upper respiratory infection. Or perhaps it was from being outside and dealing with allergies.

One thing that I found ironic was that a few weeks after attending my 15-year reunion I broke my neck. I had remained relatively healthy for the time in between, until a week after attending my 20-year reunion, when I contracted double pneumonia.

Haven’t decided if I’ll attend my 25-year reunion.

In order to treat the infection, Lasix treatments were started, which ultimately helped drain more than 6 L of fluid from my lungs. Once the heavy fluid was removed, I was able to draw my oxygen dependence down to 5 L. However, it was still very difficult to breathe comfortably and impossible to sleep.

By Wednesday morning, my fourth day in ICU, I still had not slept. I was given double doses of Ambien, but all that did was help elicit more hallucinations of the clocks around me melting. It felt like I was in a Salvador Dali painting. The drooping clocks were complemented by visions of my cat running around the floor. I had to make sure that I was not being slipped a Haldol concoction. (If you’ve been following my story from the beginning you are very aware of the experiences Haldol caused me shortly after breaking my neck).

No sleep had caused me to become extremely disoriented and frantic. I was given a high dose of Ativan, which helped me nap for a few hours, although it was more like drifting in and out of consciousness, as I never quite could completely fall asleep.

Ultimately, the doctor put a sign on my door that I was not to be disturbed. No exceptions. Any nurse, doctor, or anyone else wanting to get into my room needed permission. In fact, Tanya was stopped by security when she tried to enter my room. My mother had to explain that she was an authorized caretaker.

Sometime late Wednesday afternoon I was visited by a few of the Sisters from Incarnate Word Academy. I asked them to pray for sleep. If I didn’t get sleep soon, my body would not be able to keep up its fight against the pneumonia that was spreading through my lungs. Fortunately for me, the prayers worked wonderful and I finally slept Wednesday evening.

Several others had been calling my family asking if they could visit. I was very appreciative of everyone’s concern and desire to want to offer their support, however, I didn’t want anyone around. I wanted to be alone. It was too difficult to try to talk or carry-on any type of conversation, and knowing me, it would be damn near impossible to not converse with any visitors.

Fortunately, my blood pressure stabilized itself and there was no more discussion about any assistive measures that might be needed. The biggest reason for the stabilization was that I was drinking a lot of fluids.

I was drinking a lot.

My obsession with Gatorade resurfaced and I was consuming over 264 oz. each day. That equates to 4 of the large sized bottles. By the end of my hospital stay I had gone through more than 3 cases of Gatorade, more than 2,300 oz. I normally don’t even drink that much in a month!

After 6 days in the ICU I was finally moved to the step down unit. While there, I was once again visited by the IWA nuns and was sure to thank them for their prayers of rest that had worked.

I also had a very bittersweet visit with Marcus and Marcelo (2 of the founding members of the WOMP club). Their family is moving to Florida and had moved out of the apartment complex 2 weeks prior. They were now coming to say goodbye as they were headed to Canton for 2 weeks to stay with their grandmother before permanently relocating to the sunshine state at the end of the month.

Marcus gave me a beautiful shark made out of crystallized sand. And Marcelo wrote me one of the best cards I have ever received. It was great to see them, although, I wish it didn’t have to be while lying in a hospital bed hooked up to oxygen. I hope that’s not the lasting image of me that they will take with them.

Monday afternoon I was finally released from the hospital after spending 10 days lying in a bed.

Although I am still exhausted and not quite back to where I’d like to be, it’s nice to be home. I’ve spent a few hours outside in the sun, but making sure to not overdo it. I’m staying hydrated as well, still drinking Gatorade. Obviously, no gym for me this week. I’ll need to monitor how I feel before jumping back into my workouts. Last thing I want to do is land back in the hospital. After having been away for almost 4 1/2 years, it didn’t take long to be reminded of how much I don’t like being there.

Finally, thank you to everyone for your prayers! I am aware of all the prayers and support that were offered up on my behalf over the past two weeks. The power of prayer is absolutely amazing and I am especially reminded of that after experiencing something like this.

Stand Strong!

Scott