vision2020@moscow.com: if I returned, where did I go?
if I returned, where did I go?
Bill London (london@wsu.edu)
Sat, 21 Mar 1998 17:58:45 -0800
I'm back. Back at home, and now back in front of the computer. And
(remember that writers have to write) I want to respond to the
heart-warming outpourings of concern and caring that came from
announcements on these email lists.....so....
Where did I go? Initially, I went to Gritman Hospital in Moscow for a
sleep study, as part of a series of studies to try and discover the cause
of my recent ill health. I should have been more concerned--going to a
hospital on Friday the 13th, under a full moon, no less.
As I understand it, as I was getting hooked up for the study of my sleep
patterns, I was given oxygen to counter low oxygen ratings in my blood.
(This is where things get a little bizarre.) However, due to my lifelong
condition of Muscular Dystrophy and the gradual wasting of the breathing
muscles caused by that genetic disease, my body had adapted to lessened
oxygen and increased carbon dioxide in the blood. I was feeling sick at
this time, however, because the carbon dioxide level was getting so high
that my heart, brain, etc were at risk. And the added oxygen created
enough extra carbon dioxide to put me in a coma.
I was out of it. No breathing. No response. No nothing.
Luckily I was in a hospital, hooked up to a breathing machine.
They moved my bed to the Intensive Care Unit and tried to revive me. I
remember the Blackness, floating in it, yet having enough breath (or life
or oxygen or something) to finally hear the anxiety in the nurses gathered
around my bed--and respond. I was awake and, after an inspection by the
doctor, made ready for transfer.
Later, after they called Gina, and she summoned some friends to the
hospital (such outpourings of caring and concern really filled my heart), I
left for Spokane by helicopter. (This fulfilled an old wish of mine--that
if I ever had to take the chopper into Spokane that I get to be awake for
the ride to watch the whole thing.)
Four days at Sacred Heart were enough to straighten out the oxygen/carbon
dioxide ratios in my blood (hopefully forever) and set me up with my new
nightime companion, a breathing machine to pump air into by lungs as I
sleep. They sent me home feeling better than I had in several months.
The lessons for me? First, I'm real glad I didn't die.
Second, and strongly related to lesson #1, the cards, messages, flowers,
fruit baskets, visits, hugs, and words of love and caring filled a place in
my soul (I didn't even know it needed filling) and in my heart. They gave
me strength, and coupled with the love of a good woman, brought more than
enough light for me to see my way home.
Thank you all.
BL
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