Bill in ICU Thomas Jefferson Hospital January 19, 2021

Bill is still in the ICU unit of Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia. 

I was able to talk to him via FaceTime yesterday. This was the best conversation we had yet since he was airlifted to Thomas Jefferson last Thursday evening. Bill still can't quite see me on the iPhone FaceTime but he did catch glimpses.  Mostly he put the nurses's iPhone to his ear so he could hear me because he is hard of hearing. 

When I first called yesterday I couldn't get through to him because he had a choking incident while he was eating an English Muffin for breakfast. Oh my God, he can't eat anything like that which I immediately told the nurse. Bill has had trouble swallowing for years because of his restricted esophagus. I told them that he loves oatmeal which they were glad to know. They also have now put him on a pureed food program. 

Bill wants to come home. He thinks he's ready to come home now but he isn't because he can't even get up by himself. He would need enough rehab so he can be somewhat mobile. Then he can come home. 

Bill does look better now, but still pretty beat up from where he fell in his bedroom last Thursday morning. I feel so bad for him. I don't know how long he was on the floor of his bedroom with his head twisted next to that Yield House hallway stand where he hangs his bathroom. I'm moving that piece of furniture today out of his bedroom, that's the picture at the top of this posting.

I don't know when Bill will be able to come home, his doctors haven't talked to me since last Friday. I expect to talk to them today because the weekend and holiday is over now. But when Bill comes home I'm going to try and take care of him here, his home where he so wants to be now at this time of his life. 

Now once he comes home, which I suspect he will, I have to work out a plan to make sure he doesn't fall again. I'm not quite sure how I'm going to do that but I'll figure something out.

I woke up this morning for my bathroom visit at about 6:20 AM. I tried to get back to sleep but couldn't. However, I am so thankful I was able to get a good sleep last night after I went to bed around 12:30 AM. I'm a heavy sleeper which I did last night. I was also able to get a good sleep the previous night. the first two nights after Bill was in the hospital, I didn't get a good sleep. I am exhausted. 

I have little appetite but I eat something. I've lost fourteen pounds already, which is what happens to me when I'm stressed out. The last time I was so stressed, was when we were having a problem selling our Pennsylvania house. I lost so much weight that I looked ill. I'm hoping I can stabilize soon.

Yesterday, when I woke up in this empty house without Bill's loving presence, was the first time since Bill went to the hospital that I actually felt I could survive him not being here ever. That thought is still almost unbearable painful but maybe, just maybe I can survive. And the only thing that is getting me through that is knowing that Bill would finally be at peace. While he's still alive he's worried about me, misses me and misses our home. When he's gone, he doesn't know anything. We've often talked about that in anticipation of our deaths. Just like going under anesthesia Bill. He understood that. But while he's still alive he's hurting, not just physically but emotionally. 

My friend Pat has been a lifesaver with his support at this time of my life. He would be down here but can't because the border is closed between the U.S. and Canada but we talk on FaceTime everyday. Pat is having his own issues right now in the middle of a condo move so I so appreciate his support. 

My co-workers at the hotel are also very supportive as are some of my neighbors. I hate to ask for help but one neighbor who offered help, I told her I might need her help to drive me to Philly to pick up Bill when he comes home. Good people are lifesavers at times like this. I just cannot imagine how I would cope without all this support.

Now to move that dangerous contraption in Bill's bedroom.

Bill's bedroom, he sleeps in that chair. He collapsed on that floor and his his face on that hallway stand. I'm moving it today. No more obstructions. By the way,, I see a reflection of a pastel charcoal picture of me done in 1974. Bill has put so many pictures of me in his room that it's embarrassing but it gives him comfort. 

Post note:

I just looked at the video I posted on this posting of my conversation yesterday morning with Bill. Hear how he asks how I'm doing? That's my Bill, totally selfless. I don't deserve him. My heart is breaking for him. I want so to have him home here where he is so happy. See where he damaged his cheekbone falling on that hallway stand? I can't let that happen again. I'm going down to move it now. I have to keep busy or else those memories will flood my brain again, threatening to overwhelm me. One day at a time.

Bill Is In The Hospital

 

Bill with Sparky, one of his favorite dogs - 1972

As I type this blog entry, Bill is at the Thomas Jefferson University Hospital in Philadelphia, PA. He was helicoptered there yesterday afternoon after the doctors at the local hospital emergency room determined that he was near death from blood clots in his lungs.

I was very reluctant to post this information but now that I am over the initial shock of finding Bill unconscious on the floor of his bedroom yesterday morning and had to call 911, I am writing this information, bad as it is, as a continuation of the saga of the life of me and Bill. 

First of all, briefly, Bill's medical condition. He had bleeding on the brain (probably from the fall yesterday and the one a few days ago in the kitchen on the hard tile floor) which made the doctors' reduction to administer blood thinner medicine for the blood clots in his lungs. A further ultra sound found blood clots in his legs as well. Last night they inserted a medical filter device to prevent those blood clots from going to his heart and killing him.

I had several discussions with the doctors in what to do in the worst case scenario (which is still hard for me to fathom) but what Bill and I have always agreed on, no extra and above medical procedures to keep him alive. Minor surgery list the device to block those blood clots in his legs were all right but no brain surgery. At Bill's age even if he survived the brain surgery (to relieve the swelling from the bleeding in his brain of which there is no guarantee of recovery) his quality of life wouldn't be worth living. Same thing with resuscitation (breaking of his ribs) to get his pulse going again.

I was almost over the edge last night with concern that Bill would die. I just cannot imagine my life without Bill. Fifty-six years is a long time to spend with one person, sharing your most intimate thoughts and everything.  Bill has devoted his whole life to me, without him I have a hard time imagining even existing as a whole person. 

While talking to his nurse in the ICU unit last night she asked me if I wanted to FaceTime with Bill. Would I? YES! That brought me to tears. She took her personal iPhone and I talked to Bill on FaceTime. He was in and out of it but he did know who I was. He didn't know where he was or how he got there (he finally got his helicopter ride but what a way to get it), but he DID KNOW ME.

Since then I've talked to him several times on FaceTime (making a pain out of myself with his nurse but she's so nice) and he's a little more with it. 

I think he's over the most critical period now. They're going to start doing physical therapy with him now. His doctors have prescribed blood thinning medication. I was given the option of sending him to rehab or have him come home here. Of course I want him home. They warned me that I might have a problem lifting him (Bill weighs about 180 lbs) but I assured him that I can manage with the occasional help of my neighbor who also helps another one of our neighbors who has a propensity to fall. 

I called in to work to take a leave of absence. I will be here full-time to take care of Bill. 

I just cannot wait until Bill comes home. This is not a home without Bill. When I came back last night I saw several things right off the bat that reminded me of Bill. The overripe bananas that he so loves. His uneaten Werther's candy cream that he so loves.

Bill and I have often talked about when the day would come that one of us would check out. That one of us would die. We all get our turn. 

We agreed that it is best that Bill goes first. Of course he's worried about me but I can take care of myself. Except maybe psychologically. If I died before, Bill said he would kill himself because he would have no reason to live. Actually Bill would go crazy. I know Bill. Also, Bill is tired. He's often said he's tired of living but only stays around because of me. And I have to admit I'm selfish, I want him around. But what I have also told him is that when he dies it's like going under anesthesia, he doesn't know anything. So there is no need to worry about me. He will have that eternal rest that we all here about that is our eventual reward. I don't believe in Heaven or Hell but if there is an afterlife, it is Heaven. If and when Bill dies he will be reunited with his pets, friends, relatives, parents, my parents, and so many others we have know who passed on. Bill has outlived almost all of them.

I have been so fortunate to have Bill in my life for the past fifty-six years, but I am greedy. I want him just a little bit longer. 

I'm not religious folks except now. Pray for Bill and pray for me. This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life. I hope I can make it through. I have to admit that sometimes I feel like just laying down and going to sleep and never waking up.  But of course I would never do that as long as Bill is alive. I am here to take care of him. I am privileged to take care of him.

This afternoon I called another friend who recently lost his longtime partner/husband. It was good to talk to him. Ironically he had sent me a letter that I received last night when I came home from work at the hotel to a house empty of Bill, there was his letter from him. I had never talked to him before but to his husband who had been following my blog for many years. He informed me that his husband was ill the past two years and he was caring for him all that time. I did not know that. I wondered why he stopped commenting on my blog. He did tell me how much his husband like my blog. Now I feel guilty for not posting more often. It was good to talk to him (which we did for about two hours I'm embarrassed to say) over FaceTime. Then we had a three way conversation with Pat, my Rock of Gibralter. What would I do without Pat?  See how fortunate I am? If I didn't have Pat, I can't even comprehend that life.

The latest information from Bill's doctors (and I may be repeating myself here) is that they're doing physical therapy on Bill now to get him up and moving around. I will have to go to a physical therapy class. Then I can bring Bill home and maybe have more time with him. Oh God, I hope I can have more time with him. After all, I need somebody to eat those blackened bananas.

Progress - Bill's Primary Care Provider

"Susan" - Bill's primary care provider at the VA

Progress!  

Yesterday was a very full day but we made progress!

We met with Bill's primary care provider at the VA Outpatient Clinic yesterday morning. 

This is the first time I met her.  Bill has often told me about her and how much he likes her. I can see why, she cares. 

Susan questions Bill about his condition

I was worried that Bill wouldn't get timely, follow-up care for his recent medical emergency. Not to worry now, Susan put through an "Urgent" consult to the VA "Choice" program.  She also gave us a script so Bill could get his medication that we could fill immediately at a nearby Rite Aid.

You know what is so important other than just getting timely medical care, knowing that someone cares.  Susan cares. 

Susan checking Bill's heartbeat - Bill has a BIG heart

Even though Bill and I go to the same VA Outpatient clinic, I have a different doctor (who I also like very much because he also cares).  Susan and I hit it off immediately. She didn't even mind me taking photos and even a short video in which she gave me instructions on how to navigate the next step in Bill's medical treatment under the "Choice" program. 

Yesterday was extra busy because I also had a dental appointment.  Then I got a call to come into work later in the date, which I did after my 4 o'clock dental appointment.  You know folks, I often think it would be nice to have a month or so of just "coasting."  Not happening now so I deal with the hand that has been dealt to us.

Today I have to finalize making an appointment for Bill with a gastroenterologist.  But first I have to receive a "Choice" number from the VA.  Yet another hurdle to overcome. I was told to call back at 1 o'clock for that number, which is about an hour from now.

But as exhausting as yesterday way, and believe me I was tired when I came home from the hotel last was Christmas "Hospitality Night" in Lewes, I slept well knowing that the wheels were moving to getting Bill his follow-up medical care. 

Bill is still weak but slowing regaining his strength.  He lost 14 pounds during this medical episode. He always wanted to lose some weight but not this way.  

Progress was made yesterday. We are heartened. 

Bill and his primary care provider Susan

Guess Where I've Been The Past Few Days?

Waiting for my completed paperwork yesterday to leave the hospital

Yep, I've been in the hospital.  I went in Monday night and left yesterday afternoon after my surgery on Tuesday afternoon.  

More about my "adventure" hopefully later today. Just wanted to touch base with you all to let you know I'm still alive and kicking.  But the past two weeks and especially the past two days have been especially rough. But I'm a tough old bird and I'm still here. It's going to take more than a goddamn stuck kidney stone to take me out.  

My "Leggins" - to keep the swelling down in my lower extremities - felt good!

Admission night - Monday - wired up and what's with my hair?
Intravenous painkiller in my right arm and fed my intravenous fluids in my right hand - one sick pup

Waylaid

Gather the Pity Party folks because I still have this kidney stone that I haven't passed.  Of course it was my "good luck" to have this condition over the busiest holiday weekend of a summer resort, Labor Day Weekend.  I was supposed to go into work today but there was no way I can work with this pain.

I'm taking painkiller pills (Oxycodone and Acetaminophen).  They work really well. One tablet every four hours as need for pain. They take about 25 minutes to alleviate the pain (which is incredible, I cannot stress how much the pain is but I don't want to dwell on it, it is what it is).  

This won't be a long blog entry because I feel the pain coming back since I'm sitting up.  My best position for dealing with this pain seems to be flat on my back which I will be in a few minutes.  I had Bill take a picture of me yesterday in bed, which is where I've been spending most of my days and nights the past two or three days.  I am losing track of time.

Yesterday I tried to eat at our favorite restaurant in Milton but I couldn't make it past the first bite of my panini sandwich and had to bring it home.  

I've already lost about five pounds or more.  But I'm telling you, this is a helluva way to lose weight. 

My doctor's office called and left a message for me on my phone yesterday which I didn't hear until late last night.  He wants me to stop in his office on Tuesday to fill out the paperwork for surgery to remove this stone.  Hopefully I can pass this stone before then but I doubt it.  It seems firmly in place.  I am able to pee (thank God!)  but there is blood in my urine so I know that stone is stuck in my ureter canal.  

I feel like a hostage to this folks.  This is the worst medical situation I've had since I had that staph infection when I was 17 years old.  The big difference now is that with my staph infection I didn't have any pain, just discomfort.  Here I have the discomfort and pain.  So bad.  

Sorry to be such a wet blanket folks.  One day I will be back to normal.  And man I'm telling you I will have a new appreciation for  being able to move around and do things without the constant threat of this almost unbearable pain.  

Roads Not Taken Part Four

Back to our program in progress after that good news yesterday of my improved prostate PSA score.

My Mother made an appointment with our family doctor, a small, humorless and disagreeable man named Dr. Samuel Specter of Coatesville, PA.  Yes, I spelled out his whole name because I want his treatment of me on the record....forever.

Not my actual doctor but very similar in appearance and attitude towards  me

Dr. Specter looked at my papers and examined me and then pronounced that I had a hernia.  I had a hernia?  Not that I knew of.  In his usual irritated manner he told my Mother "He were born with a hernia. He didn't pass your Army physical because he has a hernia.  His hernia is inactive but could become active during the strain of physical activity during basic training and the Army doesn't want the expense for treating him.  He cannot join the Army until he has an operation to repair his hernia." 

Dr. Specter scheduled me for surgery to repair my hernia.  I didn't have any say in the procedure, they decided for me.  I was damaged goods and I should be fixed.  That was "Fifties" thinking.

On June 21st, 1959 I had my surgery to repair my hernia.  This was the first surgery I had since I was nine years old when I had my tonsils taken out.  I remember at that time I was knocked out with ether.  All I remember before going out was sinking into a black and white spiral.  This time I was knocked out without the B & W spiral.  However, when I woke up I had this tremendous pain in my left abdomen.  It felt like I had been slashed with a sword.  Actually, I had been cut open on my left abdomen right through all that muscle.  It was the same as if I had been on a medieval battlefield. Damn it hurt!  

As I came out of my anesthesia haze, I saw my Mother sitting beside my bed looking at me.  She said they had operated on me and the operation was a "success." 

I was in the hospital for the next nine days. On Tuesday June 30th, 1959 I was discharged from the hospital with a huge bandage on my left side, which I had to change daily.  It still hurt like hell.  I was so sore.

Chester County Hospital - where I was born in 1941 and almost died in 1959

I was given instructions to "go easy" and not to walk too much and definitely don't do steps.  Thus I began my convalescence from this very invasive hernia surgery at home.

One week....two weeks....three weeks...gradually the soreness of the gigantic cut in my left abdomen subsided only to be replaced with pounding headaches.  Since I wasn't allowed much physical activity I attributed my headaches to my lack of exercise and sitting around our house all day eating family size bags of potato chips and boxes of Whitman chocolates.  I was bored. 

Yes, I ate everyone - I ate so many boxes of chocolates those days that I haven't eaten any since

My weight ballooned from 160 to 202 pounds.  My headaches got worse.  At time my headaches got so bad I couldn't even stand up.  I had to lie down....to eat my potato chips and chocolate candy.

Me, 17 years old and 200 lbs - my heaviest weight ever

When my headaches got to where they felt like an anvil banging in my head, my Mother took me back to Dr. Specter.  He was annoyed (as usual) and said nothing was the matter with me.  I believed him.  After all I was lazing around the house, stuffing my face and getting no exercise.  He said I should get more exercise. 

We went home.  My headaches became worse.  We went back to the doctor.....one, two and then three times.  The last time we visited him he shouted to my Mother "There's nothing the matter with him!  It's all in his head!" 

We returned home again.  By now I was popping aspirin like Pez tablets, hoping to alleviate the pain of my splitting headaches (which I can remember so well even to this day).  I had to lie down, I could not stand or walk; the pain was that great.  I actually believed the doctor that it was "all in my head." 

Then one night, I awoke in the middle of the night and my headache was gone.  I turned over in bed and I felt something sticky on my side.  I smelled a sickeningly sweet odor.  I thought I had the biggest wet dream ever.  I turned on the light.  What I saw in my bed, what I was lying in, was a huge mass of purple and red pus.  My incision was open!

I panicked.  I thought my guts were going to fall out if I got out of bed.  I called for my Mother whose bedroom ajoined mine.  She came in and looked aghast at the mess in my bed.  I was confused and scared.  I wasn't in pain but my foot look incision was opening and closing like a mouth everytime I moved.  I was in shock.

My Mother called the ambulence.  It was about three o'clock in the morning when the ER people snaked their way through our narrow ranch house to my bedroom.  They placed me on their gurney.  Again, I was so afraid my insides would fall out.  I only had my tee shirt on.  I had removed my underwear because it was soaked with that sickenly sweet pus.

The ER guys took me out of the house and slide the gurney with me on it into the back of their ambulence with the flashing lights twirling around.

They roared out of our driveway, down Hopewell Road, then Creek Road into Downingtown.  By now it was about five in the morning and people were starting to stir for a new day.  The ambulance went screaming down Lincoln Highway (Route 30), right through the center of town.  It's funny to think of it now but my main concern then was how embarrassed I was to be riding through the center of town in this ambulance with only my tee-shirt on.  Of course my lower extremeties were covered with a blanket but still, why did the ambulance have to have all glass windows on BOTH sides?

Note:  this is the type of ambulance they took me to the hospital in - glass windows on both sides right through the center of town! Not like today's ambulances which look like Brink's trucks. (Disregard Buddy Ebsen and David Canary at the beginning of this video and the Los Angeles Freeway.  This was the only You Tube video I could find that had the same kind of Cadillac ambulance with the see through windows that took me through the center of my hometown, sirens screaming and lights flashing so everyone could see me!)

After the ambulance careened through the main street of Downingtown it continued onward to Rt. 322 and the Chester County Hospital in West Chester, the hospital where I was born 17 years earlier.

Chester County Hospital - West Chester PA - the beautiful Mediterranean style building where I was born in 1941

When the ambulance arrived at the hospital I didn't go through the main entrance but instead the ambulance went around the back and entered the hospital through a below ground level garage, the "Contagian Unit."  I still remember the sign outside the entrance:

NO ENTRY!  CONTAGIAN UNIT! INFECTIOUS DISEASES!

BUBONIC PLAGUE
CHOLERA

Hospital contagion ward similar to the one I was put in 1959 - very 1930's

I didn't remember the rest of the diseases, all I remember is that they were listed in alphabetical order and if I didn't die of what I had I surely would die of something I caught in the Contagion Ward. What I do remember clearly was that I couldn't get out and the windows were wire mesh.

This is how I would receive visitors during my month long stay in the contagion ward. 

Next up, the highly infectious and contagious disease that shot me like a wet wad out of a cannon into the hospital Contagion Ward.

Ominous Feelings

As I've gotten older I've notice a development which scares me. I'll get this ominous feeling that something bad is going to happen. During the Christmas holidays of 2007 I had that feeling. Sure as rain, January 3rd I was stricken with a kidney stone and had to go to the emergency ward. I didn't know what was happening to my body. All I knew was that I was in extreme pain and I wanted it to stop, even if I had to die for it to stop. Even after the kidney stone passed, I still had this ominous feeling. Thus, when the emergency room bill arrived a few weeks later, my feelings of dread were realized.

For about five or six years now whenever I get this feeling of dread, something bad happens. I've discussed this with my sister-in-law. She says she sometimes gets the same feelings. The last two weeks I've had that feeling again. Sure enough, my cousin Bud Tipton called and left a message on my phone last night (while I was at work.) Since I haven't been able to get in touch with my Mother for about a month (she sometimes doesn't answer the phone when she gets in one of her depressive moods), I feared the worst. I called him this morning. He was out but his sister Janet (also my cousin) answered. She told me that her Mom, my Aunt Mabel was taken to the emergency room of the hospital a few weeks ago with a ruptured colon. She underwent an operation in which she was given a 50-50 chance of survival. She survived and is in a nursing home now recovering. She underwent a colostomy procedure. There is a chance that once she recovers this procedure can be reversed.

My aunt is 87 years old. My Mother is 85 years old. Both my Mother and my Aunt Mabel worked for over 20 years in the frozen foods division of Pepperridge Farms. They worked on the layer cake line. Yes, they had a "Lucy and Ethel" thing going at work. Oh the stories they used to tell when their boss used to speed up the line to get more production. Both my Mother and my Aunt went to work after their children had grown and left home. Both are now in their advanced years and not having an easy time adjusting to the infirmities of old age. My Mother is frequently depressed because she can't do what she used to do. My Aunt Mabel was also very active but is now confined to her easy chair because she has bad knees. My Mother has a balance problem and has a very hard time walking. Nobody is getting younger or getting better, including me.

Hopefully I can break out of here and visit my Aunt Mabel and my Mom this week or next week. I won't be able to go this weekend because I'm working at the hotel, covering the front desk for my co-worker whose son is shipping out to Iraq next week. She wants to spend as much time with him and her family before he ships out. I thought my ominous feeling was about him going to Iraq. I hope and pray he will be safe. He's only 18 years old.

Pictured are my Mother and my Aunt Mabel and Mabel's surprise retirement party from Pepperridge Farms. Mabel is faking outrage at my Mother because she kept the surprise retirement a secret from her. Many a good time these two women had in all the years they worked at Pepperridge Farms. A time that has now faded into the past. However, the memories will always remain. When I visit my Mom this week I think I'll get her to tell me one of her layer cake line stories. It doesn't take much to get her started. She loves telling those stories over and over again, especially when the chocolate cakes were going "splat!" on the floor after the conveyor belt was speeded up and the women couldn't keep up with the line. Like I said earlier, Lucy and Ethel all over again.