A 4.2 magnitude earthquake rattled our home a few weeks ago. Now if we lived in California (or even Oklahoma!) that would be almost commonplace but we live in Michigan where an earthquake is earth shattering, not because of the resulting damage (aside from a few funny Facebook pictures of toppled lawn furniture, I didn't witness any damage) but because earthquakes in Michigan almost never happen. Or at least ones that are felt by the average person. Or even me!
That earthquake was just the beginning of strange events, for this not-so-average person.
The day after Michigan shook, John and I went to St. Louis to see Delaney's end of freshman year performance.
One of the last times John had been to St. Louis together, was in August when he'd had his heart attack. We had dropped our daughter and a van full of belongings in sweltering heat and humidity. It was the first day of a planned two-day orientation and and the following day was the official good bye. John hadn't been feeling well all day, complaining of heart burn (that seemed to be abated by Tums and Prilosec). When we got back to our hotel that night, his heartburn again flared and at my insistence we went to the ER. After tests and monitoring, it was discovered that John had had a heart attack and another while we were in the ER. I won't go into the details of that long weekend in St. Louis, mostly because I think I already have in a previous blog, but going back together to St. Louis for this May weekend brought back a flood of memories. And it was even hot and humid - at least it felt that way to this Nanuck of the North.
We arrived outside her dorm and Delaney came out to the car to meet us. When I got out of the car to greet her, I twisted my ankle and fell to the ground. My leg was scraped up and my foot hurt, and the most pressing wound seemed to be my shin because it was bleeding. "I'll clean this up and won't cause any more concern," was what I was thinking. Sure my foot and ankle hurt, but I didn't think too much about it. Plus, it was my right side, the one that is most often numb anyway. As the evening progressed, however, it became more difficult to walk or put any weight on my right side. Again, my thoughts went something like this "I won't cause a fuss," "We are here to see Delaney's performance, after that's done and if my foot still hurts . . .", "I don't want to worry John/Delaney/Matthew/waitress/desk clerk at the hotel/customer at the restaurant . . ." You get the idea. So, after our dinner with Delaney and her boyfriend, Matthew, we went to the hotel and John got a room close to the door and then some ice for my foot ankle and some ibuprofen.
I suspected my foot was broken. But I didn't want to say anything to John, I didn't want to alarm him. "After the performance . . ." So we snuggled in for the night.
I woke at 5 am and hobbled to the bathroom, and while I was sitting on the toilet I started to feel like I was about to faint. Next thing I hear is John yelling my name loudly and I thought 'why is he yelling at me, I'm just laying next to him in bed?" Only I wasn't. I was lying on the bathroom floor and the cold tile felt pretty nice at that particular moment. He kept yelling through the bathroom door. But it felt nice on the cold tile and I was tired and my foot hurt and I didn't want to have to get up. I mumbled something. He continued to yell wanting me to open the door. I didn't want him to see me, splayed on the nice cool bathroom floor, pajama shorts and 'wears around my knees. "I'm okay," I yelled back. The floor felt nice and it was difficult to move in that small hotel bathroom with it's bright lights shining down and my foot hurt and my pajamas around my knees. He yelled again that he'd call 911 if I didn't open the door he, he was worried about me. Well, that did it. I didn't want John to see me in this condition splayed on the floor with my pajamas around my knees, so I certainly didn't want the whole hotel staff and paramedics to see me! It was, however, a threat to motivate me off the floor. When I opened the door, John was sitting on the bench outside worry written all over his face.I reminded him that I had, on two previous occasions, fainted in the middle of the night when going to the bathroom. That's all it was, I implored when he peppered me with questions about what happened. Seemingly appeased, he helped me to bed where I collapsed until the sledgehammer and drills began at 7:30 am.
Yes, 7:30 am. The hotel room next to ours was under construction and they started at 7:30 am. John went to the desk, located conveniently just around the corner from our room to complain. They gave us a different room and free breakfast. Of course, both would require me walking. And my foot hurt. Bad. So, John schlepped our luggage to another room. Then he came back to get me - I sat on my walker and John me pushed to our new room. Then I shared the news that I thought my foot was broken. John wanted to go immediately to an ER and discussion ensued. I did not want to go then because we might miss Delaney's performance and that is the reason we were in St. Louis. Which is what we agreed to do - go to the ER after her performance.
Her performance was worth the visit and we were both thrilled we didn't miss it. We asked her boyfriend, who was there as well, if he knew of a nearby walk-in clinic. Thankfully there was one only a couple miles away.
It could have been a fairly quick visit - get the xray and splint/cast and go. But no, I mentioned (thinking of the concern I'd seen on John's face that morning) the fainting episode. Well, Dr. Dinkel didn't focus on foot but instead asked a gazillion questions and urged further testing to rule out a gazillion other things than just fainting. We weren't sold on the 'further testing' and John made calls to our doctor's office where he had to leave a message to have a nurse call us back. I had an xray and the nurse still hadn't called back. When Dr. Dinkel and his entourage returned and told me the foot was indeed broken, we told him we were waiting to hear. Well, it was probably 20 minutes but it seemed like hours so I sent a text to my doctor who thankfully is a friend. Within 30 minutes, Karen calls back just as Dr. Dinkel and his entourage walked back in - Karen talked to Dinkel and then he handed the phone back to me. She said to do the tests but if something required longer monitoring that we could do that at home. So, I was CT scanned - head then chest. Blood was drawn. An IV started. And three hours later we received the diagnosis of Vasvagal Syncope. Basically, fainting triggered by something (for me it's apparently peeing in the wee hours). I received a splint, discharge papers and a CD of my tests to bring back to all the docs back home. Souvenirs.
And fodder for another book entitled, "Sick in St. Louis".
And once home, unable to drive because it's my right foot that's broken (should have gotten hand controls!) I have been escorted to my many follow-up doctor visits by wonderful friends.
That earthquake was just the beginning of strange events, for this not-so-average person.
The day after Michigan shook, John and I went to St. Louis to see Delaney's end of freshman year performance.
One of the last times John had been to St. Louis together, was in August when he'd had his heart attack. We had dropped our daughter and a van full of belongings in sweltering heat and humidity. It was the first day of a planned two-day orientation and and the following day was the official good bye. John hadn't been feeling well all day, complaining of heart burn (that seemed to be abated by Tums and Prilosec). When we got back to our hotel that night, his heartburn again flared and at my insistence we went to the ER. After tests and monitoring, it was discovered that John had had a heart attack and another while we were in the ER. I won't go into the details of that long weekend in St. Louis, mostly because I think I already have in a previous blog, but going back together to St. Louis for this May weekend brought back a flood of memories. And it was even hot and humid - at least it felt that way to this Nanuck of the North.
We arrived outside her dorm and Delaney came out to the car to meet us. When I got out of the car to greet her, I twisted my ankle and fell to the ground. My leg was scraped up and my foot hurt, and the most pressing wound seemed to be my shin because it was bleeding. "I'll clean this up and won't cause any more concern," was what I was thinking. Sure my foot and ankle hurt, but I didn't think too much about it. Plus, it was my right side, the one that is most often numb anyway. As the evening progressed, however, it became more difficult to walk or put any weight on my right side. Again, my thoughts went something like this "I won't cause a fuss," "We are here to see Delaney's performance, after that's done and if my foot still hurts . . .", "I don't want to worry John/Delaney/Matthew/waitress/desk clerk at the hotel/customer at the restaurant . . ." You get the idea. So, after our dinner with Delaney and her boyfriend, Matthew, we went to the hotel and John got a room close to the door and then some ice for my foot ankle and some ibuprofen.
I suspected my foot was broken. But I didn't want to say anything to John, I didn't want to alarm him. "After the performance . . ." So we snuggled in for the night.
I woke at 5 am and hobbled to the bathroom, and while I was sitting on the toilet I started to feel like I was about to faint. Next thing I hear is John yelling my name loudly and I thought 'why is he yelling at me, I'm just laying next to him in bed?" Only I wasn't. I was lying on the bathroom floor and the cold tile felt pretty nice at that particular moment. He kept yelling through the bathroom door. But it felt nice on the cold tile and I was tired and my foot hurt and I didn't want to have to get up. I mumbled something. He continued to yell wanting me to open the door. I didn't want him to see me, splayed on the nice cool bathroom floor, pajama shorts and 'wears around my knees. "I'm okay," I yelled back. The floor felt nice and it was difficult to move in that small hotel bathroom with it's bright lights shining down and my foot hurt and my pajamas around my knees. He yelled again that he'd call 911 if I didn't open the door he, he was worried about me. Well, that did it. I didn't want John to see me in this condition splayed on the floor with my pajamas around my knees, so I certainly didn't want the whole hotel staff and paramedics to see me! It was, however, a threat to motivate me off the floor. When I opened the door, John was sitting on the bench outside worry written all over his face.I reminded him that I had, on two previous occasions, fainted in the middle of the night when going to the bathroom. That's all it was, I implored when he peppered me with questions about what happened. Seemingly appeased, he helped me to bed where I collapsed until the sledgehammer and drills began at 7:30 am.
Yes, 7:30 am. The hotel room next to ours was under construction and they started at 7:30 am. John went to the desk, located conveniently just around the corner from our room to complain. They gave us a different room and free breakfast. Of course, both would require me walking. And my foot hurt. Bad. So, John schlepped our luggage to another room. Then he came back to get me - I sat on my walker and John me pushed to our new room. Then I shared the news that I thought my foot was broken. John wanted to go immediately to an ER and discussion ensued. I did not want to go then because we might miss Delaney's performance and that is the reason we were in St. Louis. Which is what we agreed to do - go to the ER after her performance.
Her performance was worth the visit and we were both thrilled we didn't miss it. We asked her boyfriend, who was there as well, if he knew of a nearby walk-in clinic. Thankfully there was one only a couple miles away.
It could have been a fairly quick visit - get the xray and splint/cast and go. But no, I mentioned (thinking of the concern I'd seen on John's face that morning) the fainting episode. Well, Dr. Dinkel didn't focus on foot but instead asked a gazillion questions and urged further testing to rule out a gazillion other things than just fainting. We weren't sold on the 'further testing' and John made calls to our doctor's office where he had to leave a message to have a nurse call us back. I had an xray and the nurse still hadn't called back. When Dr. Dinkel and his entourage returned and told me the foot was indeed broken, we told him we were waiting to hear. Well, it was probably 20 minutes but it seemed like hours so I sent a text to my doctor who thankfully is a friend. Within 30 minutes, Karen calls back just as Dr. Dinkel and his entourage walked back in - Karen talked to Dinkel and then he handed the phone back to me. She said to do the tests but if something required longer monitoring that we could do that at home. So, I was CT scanned - head then chest. Blood was drawn. An IV started. And three hours later we received the diagnosis of Vasvagal Syncope. Basically, fainting triggered by something (for me it's apparently peeing in the wee hours). I received a splint, discharge papers and a CD of my tests to bring back to all the docs back home. Souvenirs.
And fodder for another book entitled, "Sick in St. Louis".
And once home, unable to drive because it's my right foot that's broken (should have gotten hand controls!) I have been escorted to my many follow-up doctor visits by wonderful friends.
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