Dashboard Confidential – November 2018
Several years ago, I had a wake-up call. I had a second chance at life because of a serious health threat that I stupidly chose to ignore. It bears repeating, because there is a lesson to be shared here. If it causes only one person to take notice and perhaps seek professional help, then my purpose is fulfilled.
I had some symptoms that I chose to ignore: poor digestion, swollen belly, and a fever that would come and go. Walking just a short distance, I would be short of breath and would need to sit for a minute to recover. Thinking it was a batch of the flu, I chose to self-medicate with over-the-counter meds, which did nothing to help. Because I was busy, under a load with a schedule and, being the hard-headed typical male, I did not have time to be sick. I motored on.
Sleep patterns disrupted, I would toss and turn and get no rest, so I checked myself into a hotel near where I used to live in northern Delaware. I had no idea then what a life-saving decision that was to be. About 4 a.m., I could stand it no longer and called my longtime friend Bob to take me to Christiana Hospital, one of the top-rated cardio hospitals in the country. Blind, dumb luck, I suppose.
While waiting in the lobby for my turn to be checked out, I filled out the paperwork, chatted with Bob and was mildly annoyed that the TV was blaring “Hello Kitty.” Why I remember stupid things like that, I do not know. That is all I recall. It seems I blacked out and collapsed on the waiting room floor.
When I awoke, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my new angels dressed in white. I had a blood clot in my heart. When the clot moved, thank God, it went south instead of north, but it did some serious damage. The cardio doctor told me he put the defib paddles on me, as my heart had stopped. The first time with no result, turning up the juice he hit me again but still nothing. The third time, he said, he turned up the power and raised me off the bed. I had a pair of Mercedes stars burned into my chest for several weeks.
I spent nine days in the cardio ICU hooked to a Leaning Tower of Pisa of IV tubes and monitors. After an MRI and many tests, I was told I would never drive again, it’s time to sell the truck, and other bad news. It was explained to me that I had thick blood, irregular heartbeat (atrial fib), a heart rejection ratio of only 18 percent.
The good news was they found no sign of heart disease or any reason to have to cut me, and I was treated with meds. I fondly recall one of the monitors beeping like crazy and the ICU nurse running into the room with a huge needle of heparin, a clot buster, and BAM! Right in the belly button. It seemed the monitor showed that I flatlined, and they were kind enough to bring me back.
I found out that in my case, thick blood was hereditary and ran in my family. A blood clot killed my father and an uncle. I got my warning and a second chance. For that, I am grateful every day.
Upon release, I worked hard at proving the doctors wrong. I changed my diet, dropped a few bad habits and got my medical certification back. It was a struggle that I had to make.
Why do I relate this tale, you ask?
While I am certainly no doctor and don’t play one on TV, the lesson to be shared is this: We are all busy trying to make a living, sacrificing time away from family to make that honest dollar.
None of us have time to be sick and often choose to ignore symptoms that would make the average person run for the med center. Some of us take better care of our trucks than we do ourselves.
Self-medicating without the advice of a doctor is only a temporary patch and at best hides the symptoms. I foolishly chose that route, ignoring what should have been a major flag, and it almost cost me my life. Had the blood clot moved prior to me being in the proper care, the outcome would have been totally different. I got my second chance at life and I have never forgotten. LL