St. Mikes = Mouse Trap

As you have previously read, I had to quarantine for two weeks leading up to my surgery. This was hard, Ash was to stay at my cousins, then my brothers for a bit. 9 days in, and she needed to come home, she wasn't coping well. I made the decision to let her. A decision that would find that I also needed her to be home. Bryson was hanging in there. I missed having Thanksgiving with them, with my mom and dad, my brothers and their families.

It's Saturday before transplant and a health emergency sends my boyfriend to the ER. Less than 6 hours later we find out he is on life support. Its not covid, it's his heart. I am not able to be with him, I am only getting updates from the nurse, but what the fuck just happened? I felt like I was in a nightmare. He was being followed by a cardiologist over the last 6 months, and just this past week he was told to increase the medication he was on and to follow up in 3 months. The next few days is like a whirlwind, and maybe this is one of the reasons I have not been able to write this blog. I call in to check on him every few hours, and on Sunday morning they tell me I should prepare myself to say goodbye. They don't anticipate that he would live through the night. I phoned his mom and dad, the hardest phone calls I have ever made. The doctors suggest I come and see him, they will meet me outside the hospital, double my PPE in order for me to be as safe as possible , and I would have 60 minutes to visit with him. I am scheduled to see him at 2:00 pm and a conference call with his family would happen with his team at approximately 3:00 pm.

I arrive at the hospital, the nurse meets me and outfits me. I'm basically in a make-shift hazmat suit but they know my situation and they want me to be as safe as possible. I have definitely not picked an appropriate sweater because I have sweat dripping down and I've just made it to the elevator.

The next few hours felt like a lifetime. He was so sick, and I just couldn't wrap my head around it. I literally drove him to the ER yesterday, dropped him off and said I would see him in a bit and to let me know what was going on. I would later learn around 30 minutes after I dropped him off he crashed. An ER doctor had called me about 2 hours after I had dropped him off asking what had happened and some background info, at that point he told me he was stable and they were running tests. Later that day, I was calling and not getting through, his family was calling and not getting through. His mom went to the hospital to find him on life support.

As the team of doctors and nurses were still trying to piece together his condition, they are asking me a gazillion questions. I just want to hold his hand and talk to him. About 10 minutes before the conference call is supposed to happen, they inform me his latest tests show a bit of hope, tests show his levels are stabilizing. Something they did not think would happen. I cross my fingers and tell him he can fight this. They allow me to stay for almost 2 hours. As things were changing rapidly with multiple options being talked about, heart transplant, transferring him to a different hospital, different medications, multiple scans and pictures.

As I leave the hospital, his family is waiting for me. I am grateful but I'm exhausted. I visit him one more time before heading into surgery. He was unresponsive. I will skip all the torment and details of the next few days, but he slowly improves over the next few days and by the following week is off life support. He comes home the week following.

I spend the next few days quiet. Quieter than I have ever been I think. I snuggle ALOT with Ash. Dad and I have our last appointments down at St. Mikes and our covid test (which all come back negative).

Dad is admitted to hospital on the Wednesday afternoon. All last minute tests for him are good! Here we go!

Mom stays over Wednesday night, and we pick Todd up Thursday Morning. He drives us down. Some comedic relief on the way down assures me everything will be okay. I'm nervous as we head into St. Mikes, through the mouse trap maze to the 5th floor in the Cardinal Carter Wing. It's 6:00am. Mom and Todd aren't allowed in with me, but they come up anyway. Hugs goodbye and I'm so nervous. I sit in the waiting room. The last few days have been exhausting.

I don't think I waited even 5 minutes and I am called. A nurse hands me 3 gowns, slippers, instructions, and places me in a holding room on a stretcher (it's freezing). I put my gown on twice, I'm not sure if it's just that I'm exhausted or his instructions weren't clear but these "new" style gowns are not easy to put on. As I walk down to the hall to use the bathroom a nurse pulls me aside, my gowns are not on correctly. Nothing hanging out, but I would have had to be cut out of it on the table. I thank him and go back to my holding room. The same nurse comes in to get my IV started. I am ready. He wishes me all the best as the next person comes to get me.

I wait for about an hour in the operating room holding center. Its also chilly. A nurse checks me in,

Dr. Pace comes to say good morning, and the anesthesiologist comes to double check they can get the tubes down my throat....huh? She tells me she needs to double check as I've had jaw surgery and there's a possibility she will not be able to administer the proper breathing apparatus and medications. A quick moment of panic sets it, why didn't they check this before? All is good and I wait.

7:10 am, and I am wheeled through the halls, and I wonder how the hell nothing is falling off the shelves. Surgeons and Nurses are all scrubbing up with everything an operating room could need wide open in this hall. This is another weird mouse trap maze as I'm wheeled into the last room. Its not nice or shiny at all....stuff is everywhere. I get off the gurney and and onto the tiniest operating table (I wondered how a person bigger than me would fit), its freezing and a weird plastic material. I'm strapped on and I can't even count how many people are here. I look at the clock, its 7:21. I am given oxygen and the anesthesiologist starts administering meds. I hear her say "administering 'x' amount of fentanyl" (I can't remember the dosage)....I think what? Then another med, then again fentanyl. I remember thinking, god this is going to be a great sleep.