Lights and Sirens and Oh MY!!!

So off in the ambulance we go

...lights and sirens and... God bless the paramedic in the back who was trying furiously to get an IV started...He just could not find a good vein.  They rolled and hid and slid and did little acrobat maneuvers under my skin every time he tried.  And he was trying so hard not to hurt me but he had to do his job.  Then he decided that he would try the neck.  He asked first, and I honestly thought he was out of his mind, but then I was kinda going in and out of reality so I don't think he really was waiting for me to answer.  He was just doing what he had to do.  I don't even recall him putting it in.  He was really good.  And he had the same name as my husband so I think that immediately made me trust him (goofy I know, but hey, in times of crisis you hold on to whatever brings comfort). 

At one point during the ride, I had a conversation with God...much like my ride in the ambulance the year before.  That conversation will remain private but I will say that when I opened my eyes from that conversation there was a ladybug sitting on my chest...a huge fat lady bug.  I have no idea where the lady bug came from.  It was the biggest one I have seen, ever.  I looked at the paramedic and said, "hey, there's a lady bug" and he said, "yes, there is...you're gonna be fine" and he went on doing his work.  I focused on that lady bug the rest of the ride.  It stayed right there on my chest. 

The hospital we were going to was about 20-25 minutes away (in normal traffic as a regular driver...not sure what the ETA was for us in the ambulance).  But you turn off of a major highway onto a main thoroughfare in Oklahoma City, go about a block or so and turn onto an access road, go down and into the Emergency Room area.    But as we turned off of the main thoroughfare to the access road I heard a not so good noise...the noise nobody EVER wants to hear..the growling of the engine...you know the sound...the one when your battery is dead and you keep turning the key in hopes that it will somehow find life and turn over and pop to life.  I looked at my fearless helper in the back and said, "Did the ambulance die?" and he said, "yes, it did but don't worry, you are fine...you are going to be fine."  That's right folks, the ambulance I was riding in during my stroke DIED...dead.

My mind didn't know whether to panic or start laughing.  The back doors of the ambulance were thrown open and suddenly I'm looking out and across this major highway at the Panera Bread across the road and the driver was standing there.  He told the other paramedic that he had called for relief but it'd be 10 minutes and that we were close enough he thought that we could make it.  I had no idea what that meant at the time.  But I soon found out.  The two paramedics, who were relatively shorter in stature, pulled the gurney (is that what they are called?) out of the back of the ambulance and down onto the road and started pushing me across what was possibly the worst pavement ever.  Bumpity bump bump..  Down the access road we went.  Cars were coming in the opposite direction and never even stopped to think twice.  Like our little parade was a normal siting.  The guys were very good about keeping me calm because trust me, there is nothing calming about being pushed down a road with cars driving by.  Across a parking lot  (which seemed HUGE) and jumping the curb, they got me to the emergency room.  Those two guys were awesome.  (Note to self: write EMSA and tell them how great they were). 

They were holding a room for us since they had called in and told them that they were bringing in a possible stroke patient AND let me tell you, they don't mess around at this hospital when a stroke patient comes in the door.  Unlike the year before at a different hospital, this hospital had a whole swarm of doctors and nurses and specialists there and the minute I hit that room, they were bustling about working.  One doctor, who I called Barbie seemed to be directing the craziness of it all.  There was a male nurse (I presume that was his position) was busy calling out medications and stuff that I was on as he was pulling up my chart on their network (all of my physicians are in their network so they easily had on hand the current list of data).  Another nurse, the Bride (she was getting married the upcoming weekend I found out), was assigned to stay with me through the entire process.  Barbie told her never to leave my side.  And she didn't.  She wheeled me down to the MRI where Super-Mom (the MRI technician and mother of 9 month old twins...I overheard her telling Bride about them) where they got me situated into the horrible monstrosity of a machine that is the MRI.  I hate MRIs.  But at this hospital, it is kinda cool.  Normally you only see the top of the machine, or maybe a cheesy mural that they've paint on the ceiling for you to look at.  But not here.  They have it situated so you can actually look through this little window thing and see in the room/office area where they are, so it's like you are standing there with them.  And you can hear them talking (at least when the machine isn't rumbling its angry grumbles) so its just like they are right there with you.  It was the quickest MRI I have ever had.  EVER.

Bride wheeled me back to the emergency room area that was my "holding" pen and my dear husband, Tommy, was there.  He was talking to male nurse about this or that or something and I could tell that male nurse was not wanting my husband's information that he was trying to offer, and it was frustrating Tommy to no end.  The minute I got back in the room, the whole crew was right back in there and immediately began undressing me.  Goodness all modesty goes out the door when you have 5 people pulling and tugging at your clothes, stripping you down to your birthday suit and once again the commotion of everything was so overwhelming.  Barbie was back there in my face talking to me about some drug that I couldn't understand a word about and then this little black man in a wheelchair (Wheelie) rolls in and starts talking about some drug and some process that they need to do and I just looked at Tommy and Wheelie and kinda wave off whatever they are saying.  I was done, my brain was in overload and I could not make any decisions.  I desperately just needed my husband and doctor to do what they thought was best.  I trusted them.  I had to at this point.  I couldn't do anything for myself.  But I could look at my lovely lady bug that was still on my arm this whole time.  Bride came over to ask me a question and I showed her my lady bug.  She said, "it's lovely, but we have to take it away."  And she did. 

During this whole time, my friend that I had called to come help me, had posted a quick prayer request out on facebook just stating that I had been rushed to a local hospital (she didn't know what hospital and she only had the details that her husband had given her).   This dear friends, is where the good and bad of facebook rears its ugly head.  My friend, just innocently requesting prayers, posts out there in a group that we are both in.  A mutual friend saw it and contacted a relative or some crazy chain of events, but somehow my poor parents were notified that I was in the hospital.  God bless them, they didn't know what was going on, but they wanted to get to me.  My poor husband was trying to work with the doctors and get me the best, immediate care that he could, and contacting people was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment because he knew that time was of the essence and he had no clue that anybody other than my friend and her husband was even aware of the situation.  But, my parents, in their eagerness to find out where I was, started calling his cell phone and my cell phone continuously.  Since Tommy had no idea where they were/what they wanted or any of that and he truly was talking to Wheelie about side effects, circumstances of the medicine they wanted to give me and all of that, he quickly shot them a "call ya in a bit" type of text.  In their worried state, they begin reaching out to whomever they can find, by posting in a local facebook group asking if anybody knows any information.  Patience was not a virtue being practiced by anybody that day. 

So here I am lying on a bed in an emergency room trusting Bride and Barbie, while my husband is working with the doctors and trying to gather all the information that he can before he returns a call because he knows that my parents are going to want as much detail as he can give them and he hates being unprepared and having to say, "I don't know" and my parents are (I later find out) driving like crazy banshees to an unknown location because all they know is that I am in a hospital somewhere in the city and they want to get to me as quickly as possible.  What resulted, from my point of view, is my parents feeling like they were being given a cold shoulder from my husband since he didn't immediately call them and my husband trying to get as informed and prepared as possible before contacting them but in return feeling like he was being placed under the firing squad by all of the calls and texts before he could catch his breath and figure out which way was up.  And Bride and Barbie telling me that I just need to remain calm, my brain "needs as little stimulus as possible and to not think about any of it".  Yeah right!  Obviously they had never met my brain.  It never stops.

And this night was no different.  Finally my parents make it to the hospital and are allowed a quick, "hello" before they are whisked back into the waiting area of the emergency room.  Within an hour, Bride is wheeling me up to the ICU where I was still put on a "no visitors" regiment to minimize stimuli and allow my brain to rest.  The night did end with an absolutely amazing ICU nurse that worked the overnight shift, Angel, who prayed with me and tried to make me laugh and answered every question I asked in my garbled horrible high-pitched voice with love and patience.  Even if she did have to wake me up every 15-30 minutes to check for internal bleeding and other things...she was still an angel.  And then she handed me off to McGruff, the next morning...ugh!