Health Issue #1

Not sure why this is a starting point. Maybe because it was almost an ending point. Maybe I’ll just Quentin Tarantino the story out of order into pieces that will make it whole, or maybe not.

So I had a tooth ache for over a year. A cavity that I left for too long. I knew once it got fixed, it was going to cost a lot, way more than I had. But I couldn’t deal with it anymore. So I went to the dentist and got it fixed with a root canal, it sucked.

So like a month later I was at work, and suddenly I felt like shit. It hit me hard…fever, back ache, just felt terrible. So I text my wife and told her. Thinking I just had the flu or something random, which is odd for me because I don’t really get sick. From time to time, I will get a little cold and I’ll feel off for a few days then I’m over it. This was different.

I had a 105 fever consistently for a few days. I would take ibuprofen and tylenol, it would go down a bit, then shoot right back up. No Nausea, no vomiting nothing, but my head was pounding like I have never felt before. I just felt like death. So my wife took me to the hospital ER.

So they took some blood, said they didn’t find anything and sent me back home, said I’ll be better it was probably a virus, just let it run its course. I didn’t get batter, it wasn’t the flu at all. The fever kept at 104 to 105, I was shivering, unbearable migraine, walking around indoors with sunglasses on. I felt like I was dying and had no idea why.

Meanwhile I still went to the stupid job, not sure why. I remember I had to pick up my wife one day from work. While stopped at a light I guess I passed out, should not have been driving, but I made it. She drove home and I’m pretty sure that night we went back to the hospital.

This time they took blood again (I’m pretty sure the first time they didn’t run the test they said they did) but now they said well, you’re sick, we don’t know why, but you are. I guess my platelet count was in the teens and its supposed to be in the hundreds.

So they took a spinal tap because they thought maybe I had meningitis, because my symptoms with the migraine and back pain. I didn’t have meningitis. Had a head CT to check for a brain bleed. Nothing. So they landed on I had “walking pneumonia.” I didn’t have that either.

Thankfully they transferred me from memorial hospital ( where I probably would have died) to DMC (Doctors medical center) where I was for a few weeks. Test after test, x-ray after x-ray, I didn’t get any better. Lung function was not good. My oxygen levels were bad, fever up and down, I couldn’t eat, it sucked. Nurse after nurse, blood draw after blood draw. I was a medical mystery. It would have made a good episode of House if it was still on. At this time I had gone through so many x-rays and CT scans I would have thought I was glowing. So many in fact that because I had gotten so much worse, they brought the x ray to me. I was an anomaly for them, a puzzle they had to solve. Oh and a bit before this, I had to be moved to intensive care one night. The nurses who where monitoring me probably shouldn’t have been. According to my wife she had mentioned my breathing to a daytime nurse all day long without much response from the nurse. The orders from multiple doctors were conflicting and that nurse wasn’t one to push and question orders. They woke me up rushed in and wheeled me out. I really don’t know why, I still felt just as shitty as I had . So they must have see something on the monitors panicked and got me out of there. My wife says my oxygen had dropped to 80% because of this nurse withholding a medication to keep the fluid off my lungs. I had low pressure so she was hesitant to give it. The ICU is also where I had a sponge bath. Sponge baths are not erotic like TV and movies would make you believe They are cold and rough and not fun at all.

So I didn’t have Dr.House, but I had a few incredible nurses that took me on as one of their family. They put in overtime, worked at home looking thought medical books trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with me, got as much info as possible from my wife to see if anything was missing. A suspicion from one of the nurses led to an echocardiogram where she pulled in a cardiologist from another floor to watch the test to see if he saw what she thought she saw. After this the nurse came to my Dr and asked for another test because she had an idea and needed to confirm it. The doctor gave her the OK and they wheeled out for the test. I really don’t remember the name of the test but I remember vividly what they did. They had me sit up and shot this gel stuff in my mouth. It was fucking disgusting. Then they said gargle it, so I did, then swallow, so I did. Then she says open and do it again. I did, then again, 5 god damn times, it was horrible. All this was to numb my throat so they could stick a camera down my throat and take a picture of the back of my heart!

The test was exactly what I needed, her diagnosis was right. I had an infection on my mitral heart valve, known as endocarditis. It was bad, I was in congestive heart failure and needed to be fixed. What also sucks about endocarditis is, when it happens to younger people it is often because of needle drug use. I don’t do drugs, especially not intravenous ones. My heart surgeon knew that from looking at me, and they could also see from the 50 blood draws and spinal tap that I don’t use drugs. So the heart surgeon came to see me, he told my wife I will call you later and let you know when we will schedule the surgery. He must have looked at my test because he called pretty quick and said the surgery is tomorrow at 7 am. Also the point I realized I was in bad shape.

So the heart surgeon came to talk to me before let me know whats going on and asked if i had any questions. I had 1. I pretty much asked him what is the chance I don’t make it. He told me something like 3%, not really sure but it was really low. I was like cool let’s do it. I couldn’t eat or drink or sleep for that matter. The floor they had me on was chaos. But the next morning came and it was time.

They took me to some area where I was shaved, dry razor, shitty single blade. That was fun. My wife had been with me the whole time, by my side stressing. Still right by me until they wheeled me into the OR. The OR was the brightest room I have ever see. Just white light 10+ nurses or assistants or whoever they were, it was crazy. One of the nurses put the mask on me to put me under. She said count back from 100, I think I got to 98 and I was out. I was so exhausted and just not well, at that point it wasn’t hard to get me under.

Next thing I know, I am hearing what sounds like my mom’s voice calling my name. “Joshua , Joshua.” It wasn’t her, it was a nurse waking me up. She asked how I felt. I said “ok.” She said everything went well and I was going into recovery room. I said “cool.” Then I was in the CVICU (cardiovascular intensive care unit) for what felt like weeks, but it was only a few days. Heart surgery is no joke, they sawed me open, and holy shit you are in pain after that. I never realized how much you use your upper body, chest area until that point. I mean, every little movement was awful. I could hardly move at all. Luckily I had a magic drug button that they told me to push constantly, I was flying. So much so I hallucinated flies being in my little area, I remember talking shit about it being gross in there that they let fies in. My wife and friend told me no there aren’t any flies, that I was just seeing things. Then I remember watching my bed expand and contract. It was crazy.

So I was there for a few days. They made me try and get up and walk, that was super hard. It took me like 10 min just to move into position to stand, then another 10 min or so to get up. They were torturing me. I also had a bed neighbor next to me that died so that wasn’t very cool either. The reason I was suck down there for so long was they were trying to find me a room on my previous floor that was specialized in heart patients, and so my kids could come see me. They hadn’t seen me since I went in. I wouldn’t have wanted them to or let them. From what I was told it wasn’t something anyone should see. I’m pretty sure all my friends and anyone else that saw me came to say good bye, it was that bad.

Finally got my own room. I was starting to lose it in the CVICU room. I had finally got my own room with a TV. They didn’t have a TV down in the CVICU room. So now I was on to a whole next stage of tests and treatments, and at this point is where they told me exactly what happened. So remember at the beginning I said I had a root canal on my infected tooth? Yeah that infection got into my blood and hit my heart. It did so because I had an diagnosed prolapse on my heart valve. So what the infection does is finds any abnormality in your body and attacks it. Mine happened to be in my heart. How about those odds. My surgeon said my valve was about 70% destroyed so he had to take it out completely and I now have a mechanical heart valve. It looks like a carburetor, it clicks kind of loud. You can hear it if you are near me and it’s quiet enough. It sounds like a little time bomb. Medical science blows my mind, and the fact that this Dr just sawed me open and fixed me still trips me out. And for him, it’s just another day at the office.

Now because the infection was so bad, I had to have a PICC line in my arm, which is basically an IV line from my arm directly to my heart. That way they can still flush antibiotics right on target and not have to poke me every day. Now because I have a mechanical valve, I have to take blood thinners every day. For forever. I have to keep my INR level (blood consistency) between 2.0 and 3.0. For reference, a normal person’s blood is 1.0. So I have to get my level checked all the time because I am a bleeding risk. I would have been able to leave the hospital earlier than I did after surgery, but for some reason they couldn’t get my number right.

I had been there so long that everyone knew who I was. They would see me walking around and comment on how good I looked and how well I was doing. I really don’t think I realized how bad it had gotten or how close I was to dying. I never once thought this was it or anything. I just knew I felt like absolute garbage and wanted to get better. I had lost so much weight (didn’t have a whole lot to spare to begin with) I was down to like 129 , and I’m about 6’1 1/2 ish. But i was starting to eat and feeling a lot better, aside from the extremely painful chest from them sawing me open. I remember they made me cough up shit that I had in my lungs, the most painful cough ever, and it was bloody sputum, so gnarly. They got me off oxygen and I was eating more. I found out you can order anything you want at the hospital. I ate chicken strips and cheeseburgers everyday. It was awesome.

Eventually my INR level was in range and they said I could leave. I was ready and they where probably sick of seeing me. But I wasn’t done yet. I had to come in every day for about an hour and go to the infusion room for antibiotics for a few weeks after I was discharged. Infusion room is where they give chemo treatments to cancer patients. I always felt bad because I would be in and out in about an hour and they had to be there for 8 or so hours.

So the home recovery went on, and on. I wasn’t allowed to be out in the sun for very long at all because your heart works harder when it’s hot out. Something I never thought about. I have a cardiologist now that I love, he is the best. I see him every 3 months. I have my INR nurse that I see anywhere from every 2 to 6 weeks depending how my level has been.

4 years later, I feel good. Gained some weight back, still have a pretty cool scar, although it has faded a bit. I have the x-ray as well. Complete with valve and wires they used to put me back together. It’s all a pretty insane story, medical tale. If I could, I would sell it, but like I said earlier the show House isn’t on anymore. It took me a while to fully recognize what had happened. I just started to think damn, that was almost it, what am I really doing? I want to do what I’m supposed to do. I want to be happy and live out MY dream. So that is what I’m doing now. I will be a full time artist. This is what I’m supposed to do. This is what I’m doing.