How precious the time span between normalcy and being sliced apart. Then the chest is split, the legs plundered and pain becomes the norm. A chapter in the saga of a quadruple coronary bypass.
The operation, the aftermath, the letter to the hospital Board of Directors
Pic of the Day
The Operation of a Lifetime
Part 1 of this story here-The Realization and Diagnosis, and Part 2 of this story here-The Stress Test of Death.
The Friday, Saturday and Sunday before the day of scheduled coronary bypass surgery were not only literally beautiful, they were beautiful in terms of appreciating life, savoring the joy of a bite of chocolate, enjoying the songs of the birds and the simple sensation of breathing.
Yes, I knew that the Monday following, May 5, 2008, would change my life forever. Of course the final change would be for the better but there would be a long span of time in between when I’d definitely toss that coin for it changing for the worst.
I slept fitfully the night before the medicos would slit my chest open, before they would spread my ribs apart, before they would literally stop my body’s life functions and assign a machine to such chores as breathing and moving blood. I was scared. All surgery presents a danger. Open-heart surgery is arguably the most dangerous surgery of all.
First, and yet again, I cannot emphasize enough how wonderful my hospital experience was, if a hospital experience can ever be described as wonderful, especially a hospital experience as sobering and as painful as mine.
Sussex county Delaware is a very large county in terms of land area. This even though it is located in one of America’s smallest states. Until perhaps ten years ago, hardly anyone lived in Sussex County, Delaware. It was mostly farm country with a tiny spot hip and happening for its proximity to the mighty Atlantic Ocean. A few fishermen lived in Lewes, Delaware and the Rehoboth Beach area was an alternative for nearby Maryland’s Ocean City and was inhabited largely by a colony of homosexuals.
Then the state of Delaware passed legislature to legalize gambling. This action gave Sussex county Delaware a real boost. Bored adult tourists could ride up the road from Ocean City, Maryland, about thirty miles or so, for an evening of gambling for that Oceanside haven in Maryland will likely NEVER give in to the lure of the gambler.
Delaware has no sales tax and soon outlets of famous manufacturers built shopping malls near the Oceanside towns of Dewey Beach, Rehoboth and Bethany Beach.
People started moving to Sussex county Delaware in droves, people who would include husband and myself. And in that old game of demographics, husband and I would roughly fit right smack dab in the median of the demographic moving to Sussex County Delaware in the early twenty first century.
That Demographic, I conjecture, would be adult couples with grown children, aged 50 and older, of moderate but comfortable income, near or at retirement age, most from surrounding states to include Pennsylvania, Maryland and Virginia. There are few native Delawarians living in Sussex County. Beebe Medical Center was but a modest building located in Lewes, Delaware, once a medical haven that treated the fishermen and few year-round residents of the area.
Suddenly, when surrounded by an influx of people voted by every census as most likely to need a hospital…ie adults aged 50 and older, Beebe Medical Center grew ten-fold.
The Lewes, Delaware campus of the hospital built a few brand new wings and a brand spanking new covered parking garage was added to accommodate the many cars the narrow street of Lewes, Delaware could not handle. Beebe Medical Center’s Lewes, Delaware campus is one of the few hospitals in America I would suspect which stands proud and tall smack dab next door to a huge cemetery. I tell you, it’s weird as all get out.
Beebe Medical Center, started by physician brothers in the early 1900’s, soon built another modern and beautiful campus near Delaware’s Bethany Beach. Every year a new structure for this large and damn near medical empire is built and grand openings with free hot dogs fill the newspapers.
I wager yon reader ten to one that there is no better place on this planet for a fifty-ish female to get a quadruple heart bypass than Beebe Medical Center in Sussex County Delaware.
I’d love to get some statistics on how many of this sort of operation is done at this institute. Throw in such as angiograms and stents and…well just for example, the Lewes Beebe campus has five floors. Two of them are devoted for heart care only. One floor is an emergency room and one is general medicine. I don’t even think they have a nursery as a hospital would surely languish waiting for Delaware’s Sussex Countians to fill their rooms with newborns.
But I write with tongue in cheek.
So in a bit of serendipity I’d offer just for reader amusement, even though I grew up in the shadow of Baltimore’s famous Johns Hopkins hospital, I’d argue that come the time to get my heart re-plumbed, my dear Lord landed me in the best spot in this country, maybe on this planet.
Beebe Medical Center had coronary bypass operations down pat is what I’m saying here. My operation plus my subsequent three day stay at the hospital revealed in every action and care how true that assertion is.
I do not, naturally, have many memories of the actual cardiac bypass operation save my final kiss goodbye to my husband at around 7:30 am in the morning and my awakening at 6 pm that evening.
My daughter, son-in-law and husband were by my bedside. I remember waking up. I remember the nurses shouting at me gaily as if I were some friend they’d spotted high in the bleachers at the stadium. I remember looking at the clock and being startled that I’d been out of it for damn near close to twelve hours.
I remember the nurses telling me to stay still. I remember a tube being yanked out of my throat.
Husband, daughter, son-in-law all had something to say, mostly joy that I was still alive if my groggy memory serves, and I recall a bit of grousing at how worried they were getting in that I’d been out of the operating room at 3:00 pm, a full three hours before I finally opened my eyes and saw the nurses waving at me from the bleachers below.
My loved ones had been worried. They stayed for a while but I could see the relief in their faces. All kissed me and I told them I was fine. I don’t remember much after that save they all said they would see me the following day.
Instead of re-writing about my experiences in the hospital in those days following my surgery, I am going to copy below, in full, my own letter I sent to Beebe Medical Center’s Board of Directors regarding my experience for the period from 5/5/08 through 5/8/08. Yon reader should note that I did have ONE major issue with my care at Beebe but it is my hope that the letter illustrates my admiration and astonishment as to the top-notch technology and a+ patient treatment at the facility.
Beebe Medical Center
424 Savannah Road
Lewes, Del. 19958
ATTENTION: Board of Directors
Janet B. McCarty, Chairperson
The Honorable William Swain Lee, Vice Chairperson
Jeffrey M. Fried, FACHE, Secretary
Paul H. Mylander, Treasurer
James D. Barr
James Beebe, Jr., M. D.
Steven D. Berlin, M. D.
William L. Berry, CPA
The Honorable Eugene D. Bookhammer
The Honorable Joseph W. Booth
Stephen M. Fanto, M. D.
Joseph R. Hudson
Thomas L. King
Halsey G. Knapp
Robert H. Moore
Jose A. Pando, M. D.
Esthelda R. Parker-Selby
Anis K. Saliba, M. D.
Patricia D. Shreeve
Robert J. White
Michael L. Wilgus
Jacquelyn O. Wilson, Ed. D.
Re-My recent stay at Beebe Medical Center-5/5/08
To all Honorable Members of the Board of Directors of Beebe Medical Center as indicated above:
My name is Patricia Fish and I am but a young 57 years of age. Thus it was to my complete and sudden surprise when, as a result of several bouts of rapid heartbeats, subsequent medical investigation landed me in Beebe Medical Center on 5/5/08 when I had a quadruple coronary bypass.
My experience at this fine medical institution for which you all serve was so very positive that I had to take the time to write of my experience. For too often we may take the time to air our complaints and disgruntlement and too seldom we take the few minutes required to both thank and seek recognition for those fine professionals who made life so much better for one scared and hurting and most ordinary female citizen of Sussex county Delaware.
Before I left I tried to get as many names as I possibly could. It is my fondest wish that these wonderful people that I may mention know that I have taken this time and effort to insure that they are aware that their efforts have been brought to the intention of those charged with the oversight of your fine institution.
Which is not to say that I don't have complaints about my recent stay and I will too address an incident that so disturbed me that I consider a review of the events leading to the unfortunate encounter would be prudent for your patient review. I emphasize, however, that in total, the many fine, smiling medical professionals who assisted me during those frightening days after my operation greatly outnumbered those who I perceive struck an errant chord in my interaction.
I begin with CCU male nurse, George. Please forgive that I do not have these peoples' last names. It was all I could do to scribble so many of their first names for this letter I vowed to write just as soon as my recovery allowed.
George was a most wonderful medical provider and I could not have been cared for so carefully, yet firmly, by anyone better during those initial hours after awakening from my anesthesia. I spent many seconds and minutes, indeed hours, begging George for slivers of ice such were my dry lips and thirst. George carefully rewarded me with ice but cautioned me from too much, warning of an upset stomach to come should I over do it. Well patients who thirst, especially patients with hurting chests and tubal protrusions thrusting from everywhere, do not think about such things. In the course of an evening's shift, such as providing ice slivers, carefully apportioned to avoid a nausea to come yet given in enough of a quantity to somewhat satisfy a demanding and groggy patient, might not seem like much of a major medical activity in the grand scheme of things. Yet it is my first memory of my recovery care and, indeed, when George had to heft my rather large body from the bed the night of my operation, I did feel a bout of nausea but I did NOT, I repeat, I did NOT vomit.
George did his job and he did it well. I shall always remember him fondly.
Next I met Casey, a young nurse, just as sweet, pretty and kind as a spring day. She was the nurse assigned to me in the step-down unit upon my transfer to that unit after my day with George.
Casey helped me whenever required, she explained whatever needed explaining, she helped me move about and she was a smile and a hope for a sometimes garrulous patient. I chanced to query Casey about her future in the medical profession and was delighted to hear that she had grand plans for further education, that she enjoyed her chosen career path and intended to stick to it.
Please keep an eye out for Casey and her future. She's got something very special going on and the world should be filled with such fine young women.
Then there was Peter Chung, who was a Physician Assistant in the step down unit and if I gave anyone a hard time during my stay, it was Mr. Chung. On my first night in the step down unit my heart went into some sort of arrhythmia which caused Mr. Chung no end of worry. There's a bit of serendipity about this incident for it was sudden and strange arrhythmias which caused me to first seek medical attention that led to my heart operation from the start. In fact, I responded a bit cavalierly about the matter, declaring that I came to have my roof fixed and the thing still leaked. The night nurses told me that Peter stayed around a while after the incident of my rapid heartbeat such was his concern.
I'm not at all sure if this is true and I emphasize I am repeating what I heard. It was the following day that a medical incident involving Mr. Chung also brought about my only bad interaction with a Beebe Medical Center personnel during that stay.
Somehow I managed to dislodge the tube draining my fluids from my chest cavity. I don't know how it happened but just as soon as it did a pain pierced my side like nothing I'd ever felt before in my life.
While I was not the most perfect patient to cross your facility's threshold in your history, I did try to my best to cooperate with all medical personnel and firmly vowed that I would be as much a participant in my recovery as all those dedicated professionals helping me along. This drainage tube, however, was excruciating and I wasn't as calm and collected as I wish I could have been.
Casey did her best to help me through that horrific episode, remaining by my side, helping me breathe away the pain, seeking painkillers as required.
Make no mistake that I moaned and groaned to my complete embarrassment. I did summon my medical caretakers and apologize profusely for my behavior but all I can say is that it hurt, and prisoners of war are allowed to shout their pain and so too should a hospital patient be given some leeway for a pain they don't understand and have difficulty enduring.
I don't know who "Libby" is. I am not even sure if she's a nurse. I only know that she stopped by the door to my room and YELLED AT ME!
She told me that other patients on the ward were trying to sleep. Now I must point out that this incident occurred around 11:00 am in the morning so it was not exactly the middle of the night. She told me I should shut up and she said a lot of other really unkind things. Believe me, had I a gun I would have gladly shot myself in the head that I not bother other "sleeping" patients in the middle of the morning and for sure that I do not offend Libby the Hun.
In fact, Peter Chung himself eventually came in and removed the drainage tube completely even though it was not due for removal until the following day. Just as soon as he pulled out the tube blessed peace descended on me. So it isn't as if I was making it up or anything.
At some point Libby herself did come in and speak to me. She didn't apologize and by that time I was so doped up I didn't know who I was talking to. It was Casey who told me that it was Libby speaking to me and that she (Casey) suggested that she (Libby) apologize to me. Libby did speak to me softly so I assume she was trying to make amends.
I don't necessarily expect apologies although I sure gave plenty of heartfelt ones myself. And to be somewhat fair to Libby the Hun, I must suppose she was trying some sort of misguided "tough love" routine in an effort to shock me to strength.
The plain fact of the matter is that I was in great pain and if one of our fine soldiers at Guantanamo Bay had scolded one of our prisoners of war so severely as Libby the Hun treated me, you can believe the United Nations and New York Times would have envoys flying in for investigation and bad publicity to follow.
Yes, of course I am a writer and, at times, I have my tongue firmly in my cheek. In fact I taught writing for adult night classes at Indian River School District a few years back. I have a Blog and intend to write not only about my experience as a heart bypass patient on my Blog, but I shall document my recovery and learning experiences along the way.
I'd like to also mention Kelly, my cardiac nurse who prepared me so well for the operation. Then there was Shirley, Judy, Marcie, Bev and Beth, all on the step down cardiac unit, all on different shifts, all so nice, personable and happy to encourage me every step of the way.
Finally, there was charge nurse Adrienne, one happening bundle of medical enthusiasm. It was Adrienne who went over my discharge instructions, who spent as much time as I required answering my, and my husband's, many questions. Adrienne will always be the smiling face of encouragement that fills my last memories of my quadruple bypass surgery at Beebe Medical Center early one scary May in the year of our Lord, 2008.
I tried the best I could to mention by name all the medical professionals that aided my recovery so well. Besides my one strident discord with Libby the Hun, in fact, every single employee I encountered during my stay were professionals, likeable and impressive, every step of the way from the parking lot to housekeeping.
The hospital hummed smoothly and I was always yet again impressed at every turn at how well-run and dedicated your institution is. At times, even the food tasted halfway decent.
I will be writing about my experience at your hospital on my Blog and will be writing about my recovery. I have a diverse and wide reader base and I write the truth, yes I do, I write it well and I write it strong.
Please insure that those whose names I mentioned get some sort of "atta boy" for their jobs well done. Deal with Libby the Hun as you will. She definitely needs a little lesson in public relations I see it.
Take care and continue your fine oversight of one of the finest medical institutions I've chanced to enter during my life. And I've worked in THREE hospitals in the Baltimore region, lest you think I am totally without a clue.
I am,
Patricia Fish
http://patfish.blogspot.com/
To bring up ALL "Loving My Heart Blog" Posts
1 comment:
The post was nice by Revathi
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