When my sister e-mailed me the morning of her flight, she made mention of the fact she hadn't been feeling all that well the day before, but was ok now. She texted me when her plane landed and I called my local car service to go pick her up. When she got out of the car, I was immediately worried. She looked pale and she was having trouble breathing. She said she was having the same problem the day before, but it had gone away until she got off the plane. She thought she would be ok to go to Woodstock and would go to the doctor when she got home. I got online and looked up the Woodstock Chamber of Commerce - Woodstock doesn't have a hospital or an urgent care center. I told my sister I didn't want her to be sick on top of a mountain with no place to go, so I talked her into going to an urgent care center in my neighborhood. I figured they would tell us she was having an asthma attack, they would give her an inhaler, and we could go to Woodstock the next day as planned.
Ha ha. Normally a ten-minute walk, it took us about a half hour to reach the urgent care center because of my sister's breathing problems (we had to stop every so often for her to rest and try to catch her breath). We walked in - there were two gals ahead of us, but the nurse behind the desk got one look at my sister and they took her right back. The doctor there said he used to work in an E/R; he asked her several questions, like is she on birth control? (yes), did her leg hurt? (it did yesterday), was she having heart palpitations? (yes). After hearing her answers, he said he thought it was probably a blood clot and that he was calling an ambulance. We weren't there for five minutes before the panicking started to set in. They put my sister on oxygen while we were waiting for the ambulance to arrive.The EMTs who came were terrific, they were Ian and Martin. Actually, I think "Martin" was the guy's last name, but we never got the first name. So my sister and I call him Martin. They were both very nice, asked my sister mainly the same questions, then took her to the ambulance. [I should mention here that I've never taken an ambulance ride. I'd like to thank my sister for letting me share in that adventure and I never need to do it again. :) ] While we were in the ambulance, my sister had on an oxygen mask. I told her that if she felt really sick and needed help, she should raise her hand. Ian, who was sitting in the back with us, asked me if I am a schoolteacher. Uh, no. But he also said that he thought it was a blood clot. Thankfully, the ambulance ride was smooth and we got to the emergency room at Mt. Sinai Queens pretty quickly.
When they wheeled my sister in, the E/R was PACKED! Way too many people were there - all the stations for stretchers were full, plus there were people just sitting around in chairs waiting to be seen. It was crazy. The area that was supposed to be open for my sister had someone in it, so they stuck her in between station 7 and 8. They hooked her up to a portable chest monitor and had her on portable oxygen. It was crazy stupid. On one side of her was an elderly woman who also couldn't breathe, and on the other side of her was a gent who had overdosed on drugs (when I heard him describe later what he took, I'm surprised he survived). He also would periodically projectile vomit. Apologies to my sister, because every time that happened, I had to get away from there. That is one thing I just cannot remain calm around.
We were assigned a young doctor, who told us to call him Dr. Ben (I gave him another nickname later). He was very pleasant and very busy. When we first arrived and for the first few hours, we didn't see much of him. Ian and Martin hung around for awhile to see what was going on, which was very nice of them. Because my sister didn't really have an actual space, I couldn't get a chair in there so I probably stood there for around four hours. Finally, they took her to get a chest x-ray. I asked the security guard outside the room if the E/R was always packed and busy like this and he said 'this isn't even busy.' So I can't imagine what it must look like in there when it IS busy! After coming out of the chest x-ray, my sister had a lot of blood drawn, then we waited for her turn to go up for an ultrasound, to see if the clot was apparent. During this, her oxygen rate was down in the 70s (should be 100%), her heart rate was in the 170s (should be somewhere between 60-100), and her blood pressure was 200/149 (which isn't good). But still we sat there...At one point, my sister had to use the restroom, so I walked her over there. While I was waiting for her to come out, another security guard came over and told me I had to leave. I said, oh ok, let me just get my sister back to her bed. And then I hid from him until his shift change, because I was NOT leaving! No one else seemed bothered I was there, so why should I leave her there alone?!
So after maybe six hours, my sister was wheeled up to the ultrasound room. There was a little waiting room outside it, so I finally got to sit in a comfy chair and texted my mother. I'd been texting her every few minutes since we got there, but I figured I had a few minutes before my sister was done with her test. She wasn't in there but a few minutes before Dr. Ben came running up. He asked me, 'where is she?!' I pointed to the ultrasound room. He rushed in and pulled her out of there. He wheeled us back down to the E/R. Apparently one of her blood tests had shown alarmingly high numbers in a particular way that told him she had a massive clot. It was the d-dimer test, which when I did internet research, I saw that normal levels are around 250. He said her level was 10,000! He said he wanted her back downstairs and on all the monitors until they could do a CAT scan. Both of us started panicking and crying (tired and scared girls, hello) and Dr. Ben said, "Don't worry, if you were going to die, you already would've. I won't let you die. Do I look worried?" I said, "yeah, not comforting." And I then immediately dubbed him Young Dr. Doom. He would keep that nickname throughout the evening.
It probably took another hour for my sister to get to the CAT scan room. It was interesting watching Young Dr. Doom tell other doctors about the 10,000 thing and watching the other doctors' eyebrows raise alarmingly. Apparently, none of them have ever heard of numbers that high. Then they would look over at my sister and me and we could wave and smile. It was all we could do. We were trying to keep our spirits up. She finally went to the CAT scan room and I waited outside. Next to the gent who was sitting in the hallway with questionable hygiene. I think they need to rethink the waiting room area outside the CAT scan room. Even another patient had to stand outside in the hallway!
When she came out of the CAT scan, they wheeled my sister back to her little space in the E/R. After he read the film, Young Dr. Doom came over to tell us she had a massive pulmonary embolism. In fact, it was called a Saddle Embolism, since it extended over the top of both of her lungs, which is why she couldn't breathe and why her heart rate was so high. Young Dr. Doom then explained to us that normally, a clot will dissolve naturally into a person's body. But hers was so large, that was unlikely to happen. He wanted us to consider an experimental treatment. When hospitals treat stroke victims, they give them something called tPA - if they get it within three hours, it can dissolve whatever had gone wrong. Let's say they give a stroke victim tPA at 100%. Young Dr. Doom said that they are experimenting with giving PE victims a 50% dose of tPA to try to blast the clot. He also said that it has the risk of causing hemorrages and killing you. He ALSO said that he, nor anyone in the E/R, had ever done it before. At first, he seemed to be recommending this treatment. My sister and I were dumbstruck, we didn't know what to do or think. Then Young Dr. Doom said he was going to call some of his teachers/mentors, leaving us to panic and for my sister's heart rate to go up again. After about a half hour or so, he came over and told us that they were going to admit my sister and that the doctors he really trusted said not to do that procedure. My sister was young enough to eventually absorb the clot, but she needed to stay in the hospital for monitoring. Whew. I think she was leaning towards trying the experimental procedure, so I'm glad she didn't have to. I think at some point we went upstairs for an echocardiogram too, but I was so tired, I can't remember anything else...They told us that even though my sister was being admitted, there weren't any beds available on the desired floor, so she would probably be in the E/R all night. I took this opportunity to run home and get my tablet and both our phone chargers. I'd been sending so many texts, my power was running really low and I knew I needed to keep updating our mom. That probably took me only a half hour or so since I was pretty close to the hospital. I just had my local car service drive me home, wait for me downstairs, then take me back. When I got back, Georgette, the admitting nurse was there. I begged her to find us some saltines or something, since we hadn't eaten. She very kindly brought us some stuff to nibble on. Young Dr. Doom's shift was over, so he came by, gave my sister a piece of candy and his cell number and e-mail address. He told her to keep in touch and let him know how she was doing. That was very sweet of him.
Also before I got back, they had put another person in the E/R near my sister - a girl having perhaps a psychotic break. Her boyfriend brought her and just left her. She spent most of the night screaming, cursing, claiming that everyone was trying to kill her. It was awful. They kept sedating her and finally they had to tie her to the bed. I felt so guilty because I just wanted her to be quiet so my sister could get some rest, but I also thought they should take that poor girl somewhere where she could get some real help. I don't think the E/R of a regular hospital was the right place for her. I was so tired, every time she started screaming, I started crying. They had finally found me a chair, but it wasn't really sleep-worthy, so I was wide awake all night. My sister got next to no rest either.
At around 6am (twelve hours after we'd arrived), I ran next door to a coffee shop and got us some tea and toast. Growing up, whenever we didn't feel well, our mom would give us tea and toast, so it was comforting for us. A couple of hours later, they actually brought my sister a real breakfast, so after I helped her get that set up, I ran back over to the coffee shop and had a scrambled egg. She and I had missed lunch and dinner the night before, so we were starving. They told me as I was leaving that a room was almost ready for her, so I hurried to eat and go back. Finally, after around nineteen hours in the E/R, they took my sister up to a room.
Of course, the first room they took her to was completely unacceptable. They were putting her in a room with a poor woman on a feeding tube that constantly gurgled and spattered, and the woman constantly screamed. To her credit, the nurse that started to get my sister's bed ready said, 'oh no, you're not staying here.' Thankfully, they found her a room down the hall, but it took an hour or so to get her there. I ran home and took about an hour nap, then came back to sit with my sister.
There were parades of doctors and nurses, all day long, coming in to check on her. They all asked the same questions and pretty much all of them expressed surprise that she had survived such an enormous clot. It was depressing. Our favorite nurse was the tiny gal who practically beat anyone up who let my sister get out of bed. She came late in the day and asked my sister if she had gone to the bathroom lately. My sister said yes, the other nurse had helped her walk to the bathroom down the hall. The tiny nurse said in a dangerously upset voice, "WHO?!?!?!?!" It was adorable, actually.
Have you ever noticed that no matter what time it is, it seems like the middle of the night in a hospital? Time drags. Anyway, my sister and I watched TV, texted our mom, posted on Facebook and watched Amazing Race before it was time for me to leave. Visiting hours are over at 9pm. So right after Amazing Race, I said bye to my sister, went down the elevator, and found police tape in the lobby. I looked to my left to exit - police tape. I looked to my right - police tape. Finally, someone told me to just climb over it. Really? They couldn't have waited ten minutes or so for people to leave? I figured if I broke a leg, at least I was in the hospital. But still...By the time I got home, my sister called me and said she saw another doctor that wanted to transfer her to Lenox Hill for a procedure they only do there. Sigh. I thought that piece of news would make it hard for me to sleep, but no. I slept really hard for about nine hours, which felt good. My sister said she got a pretty good night's sleep, too. I picked up some bagels for us and went back to Mt. Sinai Queens.
Ugh. This post is long enough already. Sorry. I'll save the Lenox Hill adventure for another post, along with the fun that occurred when the rest of my family drove into town, and our introduction to Dr. Wonderful...
