Life and Death in Intensive Care

 

My Father had a stroke when I was about twelve, and was in and out of intensive care for the next six years. I did not know it at the time, but this first day in the intensive care waiting room, was only one of many days. They seemed never ending, going on forever.

It is 8:03 Saturday morning, waiting in the Intensive Care waiting room begins at 8:00. We are a little late. Visitation with patients is five minutes twice a day. Once in the late morning and once in the late afternoon. That works out to three three minutes for my Mother and two minutes for me. Twice a day.

Two minutes was plenty for me, my Father was in a coma so conversation was not happening. During his last time in coma, I finally man'd up, opened one of his eyes, and told him, "It is okay, you can leave if you want." It was the only "in coma" conversation we ever had, the one way conversation that it was. It was perhaps the longest conversation we had that year.

This was pre-personal electronics time. The hospital waiting room had a television that could barely be heard, which didn't matter as there was only one channel. There were about a dozen chairs for waiting, usually there were less than four people total in the area.

When go in the actual room on Saturday and Sunday, or every day if he's slipping, I see my Father is one of four patients in the room. Calling them patients is generous. Four haggard bodies laying in beds with monitors calling out their pulse, recording their blood pressure. Covered in one sheet, and one thin blanket.

IV's for everyone. If you are an intensive care patient, you get an IV. Besides the saline drip, additional shots are given through the IV. Occasionally the saline solution is changed out for something else. The saline solution becomes a plastic bag of chemical cocktail.

Hanging on the left side of each bed, are catheter bags filling with urine, drop by drop. Urine which is very yellow to tinted red with blood depending on how close the patient is to dying. Every day the bags are weighed to measure fluid flow. I don't know about the bags with blood in them. Maybe they don't bother weighing them.

Beeping machines and ragged breathing are the only noises in the room. All four patients are unconscious. There are no flowers or get well cards. Only one visitor in the room at a time. Just as I can identify the bodies in the bed as actual people, one body is replaced by another body. 

I start to think of them as mute, frigid actors playing a role, and not humans living out their last days in a coma, induced or natural. Generally, they will not leave the room to continue their recovery elsewhere. They go feet first to the hospital morgue, and then on to their final viewing.

Every Saturday, every Sunday, and every day when he takes a turn for the worse I am sitting in that waiting room. Ten hours a day of sitting. My day is broken up by rushed tasteless cafeteria meals that no one ever remembers eating. A few bathroom breaks. No wandering. Riding home with my Mother after six to eat a TV dinner, usually fried chicken, sit around for a while looking at more mundane TV, and off to bed.

During the week days when I am actually in school, I clean house, do my laundry and make dinner. Summer time means cutting the grass. Winter means shoveling snow three days a week or more. Generally we eat frozen TV dinners, but sometimes something simple. What passes for spaghetti, or leftovers from the last time my Mother cooked.

Mornings are pretty routine, I wake to an alarm and get ready for school, my Mother does the same except she goes to work. Usually I eat oatmeal or a couple of raw eggs. Eggs were not a favorite of mine, and raw was better than cooked, gross as that may sound. Conversation is limited. Other than my Father, what is there to talk about?

I missed around fifty days of school my junior year and around fifty days my senior year. I slipped through the schools 'tracking system' until it came time for graduation. My School was not sure I had enough attendance days to graduate. It mattered little that credit wise I was way ahead of the curve. They said they had no idea of my home situation. Eight hundred people from K-12 and I, 'slipped through the cracks'.

Sitting now in a little side room, is my Mother, myself and a nameless Doctor. The Doctor is telling us, this time he has been in a coma thirty days, and as far as they can tell, he will never come out of the coma. With my Mother's permission they want to end life support - pull the plug. How many times can you hear this and make a silent decision you hope you will never be asked about? Rinse and repeat over the previous few years.

On the thirty-third day of coma, he opens his eyes. Rinse and repeat. This time however his stay is short. After three days of being awake, he closes his eyes for the last time. I am mostly emotionless about his death and funeral. It's over - or I checked out.

In his six years in and out of the hospital, he had anger issues. Stroke patients with hair trigger tempers was and maybe is still quite common. His vocabulary never grew to more than perhaps thirty words. "Newspaper" (cigarette) and "Son of a Bitch" being the most common of his vocabulary choices.

Life between hospitalizations was never normal, I was one of two caregivers from about twelve to seventeen when there was no school. What I did for fun was limited in the day time. Those years have become a six year blur with periods of checking or blacking out when the stress became too great, which I did not know of until a few years later.

I spent my teen years onward with white coat syndrome, imagine that. I can't stand the smell of doctor's offices, let alone hospitals. When I need to visit nursing homes, I am filled with a mix of emotions. I know where they are going, and I know how lucky they are not to be there already. 

Then I hope they never make it to the hospital for that final visit, for their sake. Then I pray that I may be a fortunate one. I prefer to miss both stays. However with modern medicine, we generally are not that lucky.

Empathy, Integrity, Real Life

 

I couldn't sleep tonight, too much coffee while I was out and about today. I did one of those rare things, I went to a few poker forums to see what if anything has changed. They are about the same as they were when I was active on one of the poker forums.

One interesting header caught my attention, it was a thread about empathy and poker. The poster was going through the problem of playing poker with people who he inwardly felt sorry for because he understood or felt what they were feeling.

I resembled that remark early in my poker playing days. It was back when limit poker was king, and there was no no-limit poker to be found that an average person could afford to play.

I think I had recently made the transition to Holdem as I realized that I could make as much money winning one nice pot in Holdem as I could beating my head against the wall playing Seven Card Stud. Those were heady days.

There was a rather old couple who played the about the same time I played, and often we would be at the same table. Besides the fact they made poor decisions, they flashed their cards by holding them up in the air. They should not have been playing for money.

The preferred to sit near the middle of the table which meant at least four of the players at the table could see their cards every hand. I told them a few times what they were doing, but it had no lasting effect. I arrived at a point when I would fold my cards if I saw their hands in my sense of fair play.

Other players at the table did not share my skewed sense of ethics. While they would not lean back and look at the old couples cards, they were not above taking their money when they saw their respective hands waving in the air and knew they were ahead.

After some weeks of my high and mighty stand, the light bulb turned on. The old couple lost every time they played. They knew they were going to lose their money before they even sat down at the table. The other players at the table took their money and used it against me, betting and raising when they normally would check it down. It was not their money they were betting in the strictest sense of the word.

This was keeping my play in a defensive mode. I had my meager stacks of chips and most of the other players had their chips plus some of the old couples chips. I determined in the moment, that if the old couple wanted to play, they were playing knowing they were going to lose. Just because I did not want to take their money did not mean they were not going home broke.

In less than five minutes I changed the way I played against the old couple. I too was not craning my head to see their hands, but neither was I looking away. I had warned them several times previously, and they were aware of what they were doing.

Of course my win rate increased. On the bright side, the other players willingness to bully me also decreased for the simple reason their win rate had dropped and mine went up.

I still have some empathy and sympathy when I play though. When I know someone is playing with money they really should not be playing with, I do not feel bad taking their money because I know they would be happily taking mine if they could. I feel bad for them when the shock they feel at going broke to standing up and walking away sets in. That is usually about seven seconds.

Gambling in some ways is the last great democracy. No one forces anyone to the table, makes them buy chips, or tells them they have to play. If they did not lose their money at say, the poker table they would lose it somewhere else. Perhaps poker is the healthiest option for them about where to spend their money.

Personal decisions do not always fly the banners of ethics and integrity. Most of our daily decisions are small and insignificant, others are life changing. Big decisions are often gritty and stained with dirt and discomfort. Our best decisions are hopefully carefully thought out. Many of our decisions though are not always on the moral high road. Much like life.

Forgotten Stress and Pain Release

I was watching a Documentary the other evening. I think it was called, "Heal". It was interesting, but nothing new, until they started talking about releasing hidden, forgotten and ignored pain and stress that went all the way back to childhood.

The idea is forgotten stressors act upon our body chemistry, causing autoimmune issues and certain types of disease because our body's healthy chemical balance has been suppressed for many years and less than stellar chemicals are roaming around in their place wreaking havoc on our well being.

This sounded like it was coming from Carney Row at the County Fair. I understand being stressed, but wasn't too sure I bought into the chemical imbalance that unrelieved stress brings about. Except they had a number of people including at least one person with stage four cancer who swore it is true, because they all reversed their illnesses through releasing hidden pain and stress.

The thought of buried, hidden stress release was a new idea to me. One of the experts in the Documentary said in his opinion there, 'is no one size fits all cure or fix'. Yoga and meditation in the morning may work for you, seeing a therapist for emotional issues may work better for me, as I understood his opinion.

The Documentary moved on to a Woman who was working with a practitioner who used EFT. EFT is interesting because it involves physical action to distract our brain. We repeat an EFT Practitioner's verbal suggestions while being physically distracted with tapping or rubbing or both.

At least that is my limited understanding from the documentary and one small EFT book I read some years ago. EFT is effective because it is a kind of distraction meditation. Spoken suggestions are put on a direct path to the brain because the subject is distracted with the physical distractions being induced by the EFT Practitioner.

In the Documentary, the EFT Practitioner was doing her thing, tapping away, and telling the patient to recall a painful moment, and at each memory recall, repeat the phrase, "I love you then", or something similar. Later in the show, the Woman claims her hidden pain and stress was eventually all gone (released), and her very serious health ailments had disappeared.

I like everyone else have long term and buried or forgotten pain and stressors hidden away in my brain. I decided because I meditate often, I would skip the EFT part and go with the, "I love you then" for the known stressors I could remember. I wasn't expecting a lot, because it seemed too simple. I am skeptical. I want proof.

I started with my biggest stress, 'White Coat Syndrome', and all the memories that keep it fresh and make me want to run, not walk out of Doctor and Dentist offices. The earliest memory I could recall was being six or seven years old sitting in a Dentist chair.

I was going to receive a shot of Novocaine for a drill and fill for a bad tooth. The Dentist who I suspected in later years was a drunk, put the glass Novocaine vial in the needle and moved it towards my mouth. It slipped and fell to the floor and broke.

He picked up the broken glass vial pieces and the now useless needle. He said, "This is your fault, you little shit", and stabbed the knuckles of my right hand with a piece of the broken Novocaine vial glass leaving me with a lifelong scar. Upon recalling this memory I said, "I love you then".

(The Dentist came up with a believable story he told my Mother afterward that was not questioned, of course as he was the Dentist - authority figure)

Now I am remembering other bad dental and medical memories that made their long forgotten presence known, followed with my repeated, "I love you then" comments. Time disappeared replaced with, "I love you then" comments flowing through my mind at each remembered memory.

I realized something changed after a (unknown period of) time. The voice saying, "I love you then", was not my voice. It was coming from somewhere else, and the memories of painful and stressful times of my life arrived without any prompting. I was now a watching, hearing observer of those times in my life that stressed me out or caused pain, of which I had long ago forgotten about.

When I 'awoke' some time later, I knew I still wasn't through with the memory recall and the, "I love you then", comments. Amazingly, I felt like one-hundred pounds of just below skin level stress had left me! I felt so relaxed, I thought if I were to take my blood pressure, I would probably be concerned because it would be so low.

If you are used to meditating, you may be able to duplicate the results I did without any EFT stimulus. If you do not meditate, you may want to read up on EFT, and pick a few EFT movements that feel right for you as you try out the process. Better yet, find an EFT trained person to work with you.

I do not know what exactly happened during my experience, or if my body's chemical structure has started to change, but something good definitely took place. I felt so at peace and relaxed, it felt abnormal in the moment.

Twenty-four or so hours later, it feels a little hokey writing this. I still feel very calm and at peace with the world. Something definitely changed from the time I decided to try this process to the time I stopped. I will be doing this again, perhaps many times, until I feel there is no more hidden stress and pain to release. I highly recommend you try this process. I am still skeptical about the process. I am looking forward to some months in the future to see what lasting changes have taken place.

I Will Meet You When you Pass

 

This is a story that started almost fifty years ago. The ending won't be known until a future time.

I was maybe 22 years old and wild. My summertime life consisted of fishing and weekend parties with usually over fifty hours of work per week thrown in to provide balance. In winter life was not much different. I usually had one day off a week. I worked the afternoon shift and sometime Sunday mornings when someone did not show up.

It was a warm summer evening, and my friends and I decided to go to sit in a hot springs and drink some beer. Somewhere along the line, between getting off of work and the hot springs, a couple of Women decided they wanted to join us. I did not know either of them.

One of the two women took a liking to me, though I have no clue why. I was not looking for a girlfriend, and made no sign I was. I'll call her Keri. Keri had recently moved into town. She was a pleasant, easy going, very likable (I thought) young woman, though her life was a lot quieter than mine. I was curious how she fell into our group that night.

I really enjoyed Keri's company. Other than our night and day lifestyle differences we were a good fit, almost too good. Keri worked days, I worked afternoons. We had different days off. I was bent on self destruction and she was focused on having a normal, sane life and fun friends. Keri did not care to drink, which limited her party time and any extra time we may have had together.

We saw each other on and off for about six months. Keri decided it was time to go back home. All work, and no real fun was no life for her. She missed her friends and her more normal social life. We spent her last day in town together. It was one of the best days of my life back then, though I did not appreciate it how good it was in the moment. I now occasionally wish the day could have gone for a week. It wasn't meant to be.

I would think of Keri now and then over the years. Wondering how she was doing. I imagined she was happily married and had a family. I had no doubt she was a good friend, wife, and mother. She had that kind of personality. I wished her the best whenever I thought of her.

A few months ago, I found she was on my mind - a lot. Almost like a cloud of Keri was surrounding me. No matter what I was doing, thoughts of Keri would seep into my mind. Why the sudden feeling she was around me and in my thoughts?

A few days later in a dream, Keri was talking to me. Keri told me she had passed on. Keri said she had a good life and a family, and had no regrets about her life. Then came the bomb shell.

Keri told me she would be there to greet me when it was my time to pass. Then the dream was over. I woke up and this dream was the only thing on my mind. Keri would be there to meet me when I passed.

My thoughts were all over the place. Was I going to die soon and did not know it? Why would I have a dream like this? It was not an empty dream, there must be some meaning in it.

A few days later, the feeling of Keri being around me was back. Because I am a cynic, I had a plan. I told the  Keri presence, if that was not a dream, and she was who she said she was, and she would be there to meet me when I passed, I wanted some type of proof, that this was not my imagination. I wanted an irrefutable sign.

A couple days went by, and no sign it was anything but a dream and unaccounted for feelings. I was starting to think it was all my imagination. Six days later, in the evening I was reading the news on my computer. There was a small story about the town of Keri, in Keri county. It seems a small brush fire was started right outside of town, about ten to fifteen acres were burned before it went out, or was put out. The article did not mention how it started or why it went out.

There I was sitting wondering if this was the proof I asked for, or some wild billion to one coincidence? What are the odds of a town and county named Keri making the news for such a small event, and that I would be reading about it?

Unlike older ill people I have spoken with in the past, who said they dreamed dead relatives were coming to get them, I do not feel this was some ominous warning. Perhaps it is what it is, and this women who I knew for such a short time for whatever reason wants me to know that when it is my time, I won't be alone, and Keri will be there to meet me.

Or perhaps it is entirely a coincidence? I am really undecided, and I am guessing I won't know, until I know. In the mean time I feel comfort by the thought. You will have to decide the ending as I won't be able to provide the ending.