Lifesavers for Latasha

It is the week before Thanksgiving, and I have so many thoughts and emotions.

It was this week in 2016 that my life completely changed.

It was Thursday, Nov. 17, 2016. I had two days left of work before I had a week off for Thanksgiving break. I was tired, and my body was swollen. I had been retaining fluid and, as a result, having more difficulty breathing; I was looking forward to not working and not having classes, so I could rest and relax, but also so I could take my diuretic medications more regularly to try to get some fluid off.

It was so hard to take the medications while I was working full-time as an English composition instructor at Columbus State University in Columbus, Georgia, and working on my doctorate at Auburn University in Auburn, Alabama. I rarely had time to go to the bathroom on a normal schedule, so I definitely didn’t have time to go to the bathroom a couple of times an hour. I wasn’t able to take my medications every day or multiple times a day, but I did take them as much as possible around my schedule. There were two days a week that I didn’t start teaching until around 10 or 11 a.m., so that gave me a couple of hours for the diuretics to go through my system before I was tied to a classroom for a few hours. If I took my meds at around 7 that morning, then I could go to the bathroom as much as I needed up until my first class time. The peak effect of the meds began anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour after taking them until around three or four hours later. So, that’s how I managed the bathroom on those days. My doctors told me I could take extra doses of the diuretics when I retained more fluid. Since I wasn’t able to take them daily, I would take extra doses on the weekends, when I knew I could go to the bathroom whenever I needed.

That was the first year that I wouldn’t be cooking anything for Thanksgiving. A local restaurant named Minnie’s was going to be serving a Thanksgiving meal for the first time on Thanksgiving Day, and, after talking to my family, we decided to try it instead of us cooking and baking. That year, the restaurant required reservations for the meal, so I made reservations a few weeks earlier. As much as I loved cooking and baking for the holidays, I was very much looking forward to not doing it that year and just being able to relax.

That Thursday before Thanksgiving started like any other. I got up, got ready for work, took my medications, and left the house. I went through the drive-thru at McDonald’s to grab something for breakfast and headed to work. The parking lot I usually parked in was full, so I had to park in a lot farther away. This meant walking a farther distance to my office. By the time I got to my office, I was completely out of breath, so I sat in my chair waiting for my computer to start up and trying to catch my breath.

A couple of minutes later, I was still trying to breathe normally. I was burning up, so I took off my jacket to try to cool off a bit. Then, I started coughing. The first few coughs I could tell were the ones I do when I am hot. I tried to take a sip of my drink, but I couldn’t stop coughing. Then, I heard and felt crackling in my chest with the next cough.

“Crap,” I thought, as I knew what that meant and grabbed a napkin out of my McDonald’s bag. I put it up to my mouth and could see blood on the napkin after my next cough.

I hadn’t coughed up blood in a while, but, since it had happened a few times before, I expected it to stop after a minute or so. I knew I had to get my body temperature down, because I was so hot. I knew the coughing wouldn’t stop until I cooled down. I started fanning myself with books and papers.

No matter what I did, though, the coughs and the bleeding would not stop. After waiting several minutes with no signs of the coughing stopping and blood coming up each time, I knew I needed to get help.

I was out of napkins at this point, so I covered my mouth with my hands and walked as fast as I could down the hall to the office of my department chair.

I knocked on her door and, through the glass window in the door, I could see her turn towards the door, smile, and wave me in. I could barely talk, but I told her between coughs that I needed help. She immediately saw the blood, had me sit down, and grabbed her trash can for me to cough into. I told her I couldn’t stop coughing up blood. She knew I had medical issues and immediately got the secretary’s attention. She instructed her to call for an ambulance and to contact my emergency contact, which was my husband.

She asked me if this had happened before. In between coughs, I told her it had but it had never lasted this long or with this much blood. I was having so much trouble breathing. I could hear myself wheezing in between coughs. She told me not to talk and that an ambulance would be there soon. She kept telling me I would be okay. I don’t remember if she held one of my hands or rubbed my back as I kept coughing and spitting out blood, but I do remember that she had a calming effect on me. She stayed calm, which helped me to stay calm. I remember struggling to tell her I needed to get my purse out of my office, because my ID and insurance info was in it. She assured me she would make sure someone got it for me.

The next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital bed. I was so thirsty. I just wanted an ice cold ginger ale. And I felt like I needed to go to the bathroom. But, no one seemed to really pay attention to me. I vaguely remember a male voice and female voice as they were doing something with my neck. I was in and out of consciousness after that.

I had no idea I had already been in the hospital for days. Not only that, but I had been transferred from a hospital in Columbus, Georgia, to Emory in Atlanta, Georgia, where I was in ICU and being treated by my cardiologists there.

Once I had been weaned off the sedatives and recognized my husband, I tried to talk to him. Chris told me I couldn’t talk, because I was intubated. He explained to me where I was and how I ended up there.

I was so thirsty. I tried to communicate to Chris that I was thirsty and wanted a ginger ale. Since I couldn’t talk, I tried spelling it in the palm of his hand. That didn’t work. So, he tried to get me to type it on his phone. My fingers weren’t working, but somehow he finally got what I was saying. He promised me he would get me a ginger ale as soon as I was able to have one.

I stayed on the ventilator for a bit longer until the doctors were sure I could breathe on my own. My entire family had been waiting on me to wake me up: my husband, my parents, and both my sisters and their families. We were all together, but this was not how I envisioned spending my Thanksgiving break with them.

On the day before Thanksgiving, the doctors finally extubated me. I was so excited to be able to drink something, but they said I couldn’t have anything until they were sure I wouldn’t aspirate anything. All they would allow is my parents or my husband to wipe my lips with a wet sponge. It was agonizing waiting to be able to drink something.

I also had the urge to pee. In a hoarse voice, I told the nurse I needed to use the bathroom. She looked completely confused and said I had a Foley catheter in, so my bladder should have been draining through that. She checked to make sure it was working and said it was. I have no idea why I still felt like I needed to pee when the catheter was emptying my bladder.

At the same time, I was thinking about the Thanksgiving meal we had reservations for the following day. I was awake now, so I assumed I would be allowed to go home later that day. That’s how it happened on tv shows. I had never been in ICU that I could remember. But, on tv, the patient wakes up and goes home. So, I was thinking we’d still be able to have our Thanksgiving meal at Minnie’s the following day.

Of course, that is not what happened. What they don’t show on tv shows that happens in real life is that once the doctors think you don’t need to be in ICU anymore, they move you to a step-down unit, to continue any treatments and to rebuild your strength before they discharge you.

I didn’t know that is what would happen at the time, though, because I was still not stable enough to be moved from ICU. After what seemed like days later, but was only several hours after being extubated, I was able to have a drink. It wasn’t ginger ale. It was water.

The best water I have ever had.

Prior to that day, I was never much of a water drinker. I would rather have sweet tea or a flavored water than plain water. But that water I drank after being so thirsty was amazing. Since that day, water is something I drink much more of, and I actually crave plain water all the time now.

Once I was extubated, other lines and tubes that were in me were slowly taken out one by one. Each time something was taken off, I had hope that I was that much closer to being home that night.

Thanksgiving morning came, though, and I was still in ICU. It took so much energy to just move from the bed to the chair to sit up for a few minutes. But, I was still watching that clock and thinking as long as I got discharged by X time, we would make it to Minnie’s for our meal.

I was heartbroken when the doctors started talking about moving me to the step-down unit. The what?!? I really thought I would just be able to go home, so the realization that I was stuck in the hospital really upset me. My family ate in the hospital cafeteria that day, and I felt even worse that it was because of me that they weren’t able to enjoy their Thanksgiving holiday.

I’m not sure how much I cried during that hospital stay, but I probably cried at least once a day. Some days, I’m sure I cried multiple times a day. Whether it was out of anger, frustration, or sadness, the tears were there.

Once I was stable enough, I was transferred to the step-down unit. Again, I expected to be there for a day, maybe two. But, once again, after a few days, I realized I was expecting too much. Blood work was done multiple times a day and kept showing that my kidneys were potentially failing from the strong antibiotics I was given. I had to stay in the hospital until they could try to get my kidney function back to normal.

My younger sister was pregnant with her first child at the time and was due any day. I was feeling more and more depressed that I would miss the birth of my second niece. My sister and her husband had decided to name her after me, so I felt it was even more important for me to be there when she was born.

Finally, my kidney function numbers started trending downward, and my doctors felt I was stable enough to go home on December 2. My niece was born three days later on December 5. I was there with my portable oxygen tank, since I was still struggling to breath normally, but I was there for her birth.

After this hospitalization, I realized I could not go back to doing what I had been doing, which meant I couldn’t continue working. Physically, I was still very weak and trying to regain my strength, so I wasn’t able to do much of anything for several months. My doctors talked to me about coming in after Christmas to try to get off more fluid as well. So, the day after Christmas I was admitted again and stayed for another almost two weeks to remove as much fluid as they could.

I have always been very stubborn, so although I didn’t work full-time again, I was still working on my doctorate. I had hope that once I recovered completely, I would be able to work again and would at least have my doctorate to further my career. That hope slowly diminished as time went on and, even with an increase in diuretics, I was still retaining fluid at times.

Two years later, I finally gave up on my dream of having my doctorate and going back to teaching.

Since then, my diuretics have been increased several times to combat the inevitable fluid retention from the progressive failing of my heart.

Over the years, I have become increasingly frustrated with my life. While I am thankful I am alive, I am very frustrated and disappointed that I don’t get to have the career I wanted and would have had if I had been able to keep going. Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had just gone back to working and finished my doctorate. In my mind, I know I probably would’ve ended up in the hospital again, possibly worse off than the previous time.

I ask myself all the time why me…what did I do to deserve this life? All I tried to do was be a productive citizen my entire life. There has to be a reason and a purpose for my life, but so far I haven’t figured them out.

For this Thanksgiving, I am going to do my best to accept my life as it is and be thankful for who I am, even if it is not all I aspired to be. I am going to enjoy spending time with my husband and trying a new place for a Thanksgiving meal. I am going to enjoy FaceTiming with my family and looking forward to having them here to celebrate Christmas.

All I can do now is try my best to be a good wife, good daughter, good sister, and good aunt, and overall good person. Oh, and a good mom to my furry babies.

Perhaps those are the parts of me that matter the most anyway.