The Worst Pain Known to Man-The CRPS Battle

“You’ll be out eating a steak dinner that same evening Dave!“. Those were the words of my friend and business associate, Walt, regarding my outpatient cardiac catheterization procedure that I was going to have that fateful September morning of 2013.  I had no idea my life would be completely turned upside down because of the mistake my Cardiologist made during my procedure.  I woke up numb from the waist down, was rushed thru a myriad of tests during the next 3 days at Baylor Grapevine and was finally discharged 3 days later, unable to walk without the use of a walker.  I was 41, and I told the therapist that I wasn’t old enough for that ride.  

If I find out you stopped and got breakfast while we were here waiting, I’m gonna be pissed…..

Great last words to say to the Cardiologist right before you go under for your cardiac catheterization huh?  Boy, I wish I’d have said let’s just cancel this thing altogether.  

I guess I should give you some of the back story first so you’ll understand how I got here.  Well, males on the male side of my family tree aren’t on record as having the best of tickers.  Great Uncle-death via heart disease.  Grandfather-death via heart disease.  Dad-heart attacks and heart issues way too young in his life.  Coincidentally, most of the females in my family tree unfortunately had a record of heart issues too, but most of those were more related to the broken heart side of things instead of heart health issues.  

Anyway, one of the first times I thought I was having a heart attack, I was on duty at the police station, and I was in my mid 20’s.  Felt light headed, blood pressure kept creeping up closer to the 200 mark, and so the medics were kind enough to give me a ride to AMH there in Arlington.  Lots of tests later, several needle sticks, and the worst headache in the world caused by Nitro tabs, and all the Drs could say was, “Well, sometimes the body does things we can’t explain.”. Great!  Thanks Doc.  Will I be getting billed for the true value of your finding or just the over inflated flat fee?

So, we fast forward several years up to September 8, 2011.  Sitting at home and left arm, left shoulder, and left side of face go numb.  Well heck, here we go again!  Go to Baylor Grapevine, lots of tests, prodding, needle sticks, etc… and my Dr comes in to tell me she has good news and bad news.  My heart is great, but we found a mass deep in your brain that showed up on your CT.  Oh by the way, we need to do an MRI to get further information on it, but there’s gonna be about a 2 hour wait to get you into the MRI.  Boy, that was fun.  I ended the night being transferred to big Baylor in downtown Dallas via Careflite and got to spend a few days with those fine folks there.  But hey, the ol heart was still tick ticking along just fine.  

A couple of years later, I started having some bad chest pains and went to the ER again.  My ER Doc wanted to admit me overnight to monitor me and do some more testing the next morning.  I gladly thanked him but declined his invitation.  I didn’t refuse out of stupidity or stubbornness.  I refused because one of my son’s had an incredibly important Dr appointment the next morning, and I wasn’t gonna let anything keep me from being there for him.  My ER Doc actually said that he’d do the same thing if he were in my shoes, and he then gave me the referral to this Cardiologist.  Looking back, here’s where it all started going south!

So, I play the multi appointment game with this Cardiologist (initial consult, different tests, results appts, etc…) and he tells me that he’s still not satisfied with all of the tests and wants to go into my heart via cath to look at the backside of my heart.  Of course at this point I’m like, “Wow Doc, that sounds kinda serious.”. His response, “No, it’s not a big deal.  I’ve done thousands of them.”. Pretty sure we would refer to this part as a “clue” in my former line of work, but I sure missed it.

So, I schedule the procedure and a week or so later, I’m number 1 on the patient list in the Cardiac Cath Lab at Baylor Grapevine that morning.  Why in the world I had to be there at 4:30 that morning still bewilders me.  So, I get there and begin getting prepped.  I had a great male nurse who was actually a former police officer so I felt like I was in great hands.  I was with him handling things.  My nurse rolls me into the operating room and continues prepping me.  Another nurse walks in, says that my Cardiologist just called and said he was running late.  (For those of you counting clues at home, this would be another one for the tally).  I get wheeled back out to the pre-op area for about 45 minutes to wait for the arrival of my Cardiologist.  Finally, we start the process again, and just before they start the medicine to knock me out, my Dr asks if I’m ready to do this.  My response?  You probably guessed correctly.  After giving permission, I finished with, “If I find out you stopped and got breakfast while we were here waiting, I’m gonna be pissed!” 

Sir, if you’ll just give us some urine you’ll get to go home….

What???  You folks made me be here at 4:30 this morning, and y’all made sure to remind me 182 times that I couldn’t have anything to eat or drink since 4:30 yesterday afternoon AND NOW IM BEING HELD HOSTAGE UNTIL I PEE????  

OK, where was I?  Oh yeah, I fell asleep after my little breakfast comment to my Doctor.  

Alright, so I wake up in the recovery room.  I still remember the clock on the wall being the first thing I saw.  Next, I asked, “What time is it?”. Not sure why I asked this when I could clearly see the clock.  Maybe I wanted to know if I was going to hear a familiar voice or the voice of God (You know, the one that’s real deep and echo-y).  You really can’t fault me, I mean I was just medicinally knocked out.  I don’t drink nor do I use illegal drugs, but based on this whole clock vs time inquiry, I’ll bet I would have been the life of the party had I drank!

OK, back to the issue….So, a nurse comes in and she greets me and asks me how I’m feeling.  I remember saying that my leg hurt really bad.  I don’t remember what she said exactly, but I’m pretty sure she dismissed my comment as if I had no clue of how I felt.  A few minutes go by and she comes back holding that plastic jug….. yes, THAT plastic jug.  She tells me that in order for me to go home, all I have to do is provide something of mine to fill up the jug.  I let her know that I can’t give her anything.  She lets me know that im wrong and that I actually can give her something to go in the jug.  Well, after a few witty exchanges about whose body it is and who’s actually in charge of my body, I cave and tell her I’ll try.  I had to be rolled over onto my side because I was numb from my waist down (another mark for our special little clue count).  The craziest thing happened….My eyes are watching me fill up this bottle, but I’m not feeling a thing.  Zero, zip, zilch, nada.  I explain this to my nurse and she looks like SHE just saw God and then tells me, “Well that’s not normal!”. Whew, she was obviously present the day they taught the “keep calm and don’t scare the patient” portion of bedside manner.  She hurriedly exits and returns in a matter of seconds with my Doctor.  My Cardiologist comes in to tell me that he mistook my right femoral nerve for my femoral artery and penetrated the femoral nerve.  Seeing the look on my face, he attempted to calm me by saying, “But Mr. Seward, you’ve got the heart of a 20 year old man!”

Two nurses unlock my bed and rush me down the hall to an awaiting elevator…..

Thank you all for following me and providing great words of encouragement!!

I published this blog via my personal FB page yesterday and have received lots of love and support from my friends and family!  Thank you all very, very much.  Somehow the words “Thank You” just don’t seem to accurately describe the appreciation I feel for each of you who have followed my journey and provided such kind words of support.  As long as you want to read, I promise I’ll keep writing.  I did discover that I can’t change the order of these things unless I manipulate the date published.  I guess a standard blog goes by order of the latest entry, but for now, I need it to go in story order until I get us all caught up to present time.  So, the pony under this pile of poo is to not go by the date published on each blog entry.  So, grab that cup of coffee, or lay down to go to sleep and hold on.  Here we go….

Alright, so two nurses run my bed down the hallway to the elevator.  I ask them where we’re headed and why the urgency.  They reply that we’re headed down to CT (cat scan) and that they’re pretty concerned about the circulation, or lack thereof, in my right leg.  Apparently my right foot was turning blue, was ice cold, and no one could find a pulse in my right foot.  Now, mind you, I’m no stranger to CT scans and MRI’s.  Ever since the doctors found my stupid little unwanted brain visitor back in 2011, me and those machines (those machines and I?????) had become pretty close.  So, I’d learned to hate the terms “with contrast” regarding CT’s and MRI’S.  For those of you wondering what the heck I’m talking about, I’ll explain the best I can.  The contrast is a fluid that is in these two big plunger looking things (technical term there) that are attached to an IV hose that is connected to the patient.  During the scan, the plungers activate and quickly inject this contrast fluid into you so the Drs can track the path of the fluid to see if there’s a blockage anywhere in the scanned area.  Whew, that made my brain tired explaining that one.  I’ll pause for a second if you’d like to go grab a cold DrPepper.  I know I’m going to…..

Ahhhh, nothing fuels the brain like an ice cold DP.  OK, I’d asked if they were going to use contrast on this CT because it always meant a bigger catheter into my veins because the contrast was so thick. Bigger catheter means bigger pain, and I’m allergic to pain.  I really didn’t even need to ask, because the way my day was going, everything bad that could happen was pretty much gonna happen to ol’ Davey boy.  I mean, if they’d have given me a pregnancy test, then the folks from the National Enquirer would have been calling to put me on their next cover.

So, my very kind nurses get me into Radiology for my CT.  One nurse attempts to put a larger diameter Cath into my arm and wouldn’t ya know it, my vein blows out.  So, she asks for help.  Now when I say help showed up on the double, I mean help freaking showed up.  I had a nurse on each arm hurriedly looking for a good vein, thumping each vein site when they’d find one trying to bring it to the surface so they could insert the larger diameter Cath to push the contrast.  Folks, you’ve not lived until you’ve had a nurse on each arm each digging independently to try and insert a proper diameter cath, while a tech checks the rest of your body for possible IV sites.  Bad time to have a fear of needles…. really bad time!

I remember saying that I was in alot of pain from my leg, and bless my nurses hearts, they had secured some pain meds for me prior to taking me down to Radiology.  They told me they’d be able to give me my pain meds, via IV, just as soon as they could get a cath inserted for my CT scan.  It seemed like forever, but one of them was able to find a large enough vein to get the larger cath into, and then they gave me some pain meds to help my pain.  

I don’t recall how long the CT took, but I remember my nurse telling me afterward that I was being admitted and that my room was ready.  As I was wheeled into my room, I remember becoming violently sick, and at one point while vomiting, I felt this hard, very painful “pop” on the inside of my upper right leg.  That pain itself hurt like nothing I’d ever felt before in my entire life, and instantly made me exponentially more nauseous.  All I could mumble between episodes of violently vomiting from my intense pain was, “Please help me….Please GOD!”

You ever notice in hospitals how they’ll wake you up just to make sure you’re sleeping?

Well, here we are, still in the hospital compliments of my “outpatient” cardiac cath procedure.  As I’m reliving this with all of my friends via this blog, I’ve gone back and reviewed the journal and notes I made during this time, and it has taken me back to some really dark, painful, heartbreaking times, and it’s tough.  It’s very tough!  There are so many things that this stupid event and my other medical issues have done and cost me that it brings such a barrage of emotion back as I relive all of these moments.  So many times I try to keep a positive outlook and try to be a positive example for my boys, when inside, I’m a scared little boy wondering how I’m gonna make it.  I use laughter and humor so much as a coping mechanism.  When I was a cop and fireman, the humor was what got me thru so much of the scary, dangerous, horrific situations that we came across.  I say all of this to ask you to kindly take my humor as a way I deal with the bad stuff.  Some drink, some exercise, some go to therapy….everyone deals with things differently.  Please don’t take offense to my humor.  I mean no disrespect.

My Cardiologist came into my hospital room one morning, held my hand, and kept apologizing for what he had done.  I was moved.  I very much appreciated the respect, and truly felt like he was a man of honor for coming in and opening up the way he did.  Unfortunately, I would find out a few months later that this wasn’t the case.  

Ya know how when we encounter an issue we can’t handle/fix then we turn to an expert or professional?  Plumbing problems?  Call Plumber.  Emergency?  Call 9-1-1.  Cable trouble?  Call cable company and wait a month for them to come out.

So, my Cardiologist tells me that we are now in “uncharted territory” and that only time will tell how long I’m going to be like this….Um, I’m sorry, WHAT IN THE SAM HILL DID YOU JUST TELL ME???  Time will tell???  Uncharted territory????  Great goobly goo, does anybody even try to make a patient feel any better these days?!?  What happened to take 2 aspirin and call me in the morning or drink lots of fluids???  Would you, Doc, accept any of these answers when it came time for me to pay my bill?

A Neurologist was requested to consult.  Boy, here’s some good news.  Off the bat, the Neurologist orders 4 MRI’s….FOUR!  That’s a long time to spend in that tube listening to all those weird noises.  The Neurologist saw the pain and fear in my eyes and comforted me by telling me that I have a very long road ahead of me.  Apparently, at this time, there was only one test to detect nerve damage.  He said it’s the most painful test I’ll ever endure and that he normally likes to wait 30 days to conduct the test.  He said it involves lots of needles in lots of different places to test how my nerves are communicating.  Whoa, whoa, hold the freaking boat.  Why would you tell me that you’re gonna cause me to endure the worst, most painful test there is and then tell me I’ve gotta wait 30 days?  Boy, there’s something great to think about 24/7 for the next 30 days.  Did my ex-wife pay you to do this to me?

Apparently his heart was in the right place.  Nerve damage can take a couple of weeks to show up, and he doesn’t like to have to put the patient thru repeating the tests.  Nerves regenerate, according to the Neurologist, at a rate of about 1 millimeter every 30 days.  Oh boy, this is gonna be a slow, slow ride.

Physical therapy showed up in my hospital room and got me out of bed.  I got to wear some big, stylish belt that she held onto while she taught me to use a walker.  She was apparently under the impression that I’d need to leave the hospital on a walker when my discharge date came.  I had a different plan.  (Boy, sometimes I can be really stupid).  I said I didn’t want a stupid walker because I was too young and in too good of shape.  Sometimes my mirror lies to me.

We tried a cane, but, because of my stupid little unwanted brain mass, my left side is weaker, and sometimes my left arm or leg will give out because of the tumor.  The cane didn’t work.  I asked about crutches.  She said that she didn’t think I should use them because they were not as stable, and that I risk falling when/if I would stop to do something.  She was right!  By the way, aren’t you supposed to hold on to this stylish belt so I don’t fall out here in the hall???

We end with both of my IV sites blowing out.  The nurses tried several times to start one on the backside of my forearm.  The sites that blew out were on the inner side of my biceps.  I hate the feeling of having someone dig around in me.  More pain, more nausea.  Nothing seems to help!

Discharged from the Hospital

My last day in the hospital started with the Urologist standing over my hospital bed.  Not a good feeling when you wake up and see someone standing over you.  

This day has many memories for me, but it also holds one of the greatest regrets of my life.  I’m now, at the time of this writing very much divorced, but looking back to this time in 2013, I was married.  I recall my wife telling me that my sister was calling my cell phone.  Next, my sister, Missy, called my wife’s cell phone.  My sister had gone thru some Nursing Assistant classes years ago and was now calling to find out what had happened to me.  Knowing my sister, she was calling to offer her “expert opinion”.  My sister had lots of demons and addictions that she’d been battling since we were kids at Key Elementary.  She was a sixth grader when it began, and I was a fourth grader.  Anyway, there were many times in our adult life when I would talk to her, she would be so out of it and so terribly hard to decipher that I would put off speaking to her.  I did that on this day, and in a matter of days I would learn that I’d never have that opportunity again.

So, back to the topic at hand.  My Neurologist, not really my Neurologist, but the one at Baylor Grapevine came by to discuss my MRI results.  Now, keep in mind that when my Cardiologist made this mistake, his point of entry was my right groin area.  The area on my right side where the inner, upper side of my right thigh meets my mid-section.  The MRI revealed that I had lots of tissue swelling from my bladder area all the way down to my right knee.  So I had swelling from well above the entry site to way below the site.  He said that this swelling could explain why I had no sensation of knowing when my bladder was full.  Yep, you read it right, I had zero sensation of knowing when I had to use the restroom.  Man, can this get any freaking worse?  Don’t answer that….

My Mom drove up to help get me home from the hospital.  I was really pushing to get out of the hospital because the band had an important show that weekend at Lewisville Western Days, and I was determined to be there.

I was glad to be going home, even if it was with this freaking walker and a handful of prescriptions.  I remember that one of my prescriptions was $250, yes, that’s 250 American dollar bills WITH my insurance.  I sure didn’t understand how this was someone else’s fault, but my family and I were stuck picking up the bill.  The car ride home was terrible.  Bumps, jarring, braking, all caused lots of pain.  At home, when I was lucky enough to find a position of comfort I didn’t want to move at all.  

Remember when I said my IV sites on my inner bicep on each arm blew out?  I’m adding a couple of pics to show each arm.  Warning, if you’ve eaten within the past 4 hours then you might want to hold off on peeking at these.  You can tell that I don’t have a shirt on in one of the pics.  But in my defense, I never said I had a great looking body to begin with!  😆

The Show Goes On…

Well, the day of the show at Lewisville Western Days had arrived.  The band was scheduled to be on the main stage and open for Casey Donahew.  My Mom was still in town and helped my wife and I get things ready for the show.  Not sure how we pulled it off, but we were able to park backstage with the buses and equipment so that helped me out some.  I only had to navigate about 30 yards or so with the walker.  It sure felt like forever.  I hate not being able to carry things, drive, stand up on my own and shake someones hand.  If I’m being completely honest, I really hate the fact that I still don’t have a clue as to when my bladder is full or not.  My wife and my mom walked around a bit at the festival, while I sat back behind the stage area, under a canopy wishing I could be with them.  I still held onto the fact that I had physical therapy coming the next week and a doctor appointment that might bring some answers….maybe.  The day ended with the show getting rained out and my Mom making the drive to go back home.

The next day, I woke up thinking this had all just been a bad dream.  I tried to put weight on my foot and I noticed two things.  One, there was nothing there.  Almost as if my leg was just dangling by a thread.  Kinda like when I was a kid and I had that loose tooth that was still hanging on by just one nerve, or whatever it is they’re attached with.  You could wiggle your tooth all around but it just had that one fiber that was keeping it attached.  Second thing I noticed was that the pain shoots straight up the inside of my thigh and then shoots up into my groin.  Still no clue of how full or empty my bladder is.  There seems to be some concern by my loved ones that i’m going to get an infection or cause kidney damage from not knowing when I need to empty my bladder.  Boy, I just keep on getting sexier and sexier dont I folks?  I did mention I’m now single….right?

I know I’m supposed to lean on my faith and put this all at GOD’s feet and have him worry about it, but dang, this one is sure tough to overcome.  Seems to be the focus of all I do.  Have to figure out a plan to get back to normal and start doing all I used to do.  I still wonder when my left leg will give out or when my left arm will collapse while I’m trying to use this stupid walker.  (Remember the stupid little unwanted brain mass that affects my left side).  Palms of my hands are bruised from the walker.  Who in their right mind makes these handles out of hard rubber anyway???  I wish I could invent a device that adds more cushion to the handles of the walker and also has a pouch where you could put things you need (chapstick, Dr.Pepper, cell phone, money clip, etc…).  Still don’t have the whole “stair maneuvering” thing down.  If I try to go too far in my stride, then I get this shooting pain all up my groin.  Upper leg, foot, and groin area still very swollen, but we ventured out to see my Aunt & Uncle.

My Uncle Terry is my “go to” person for advice.  He always steers me in the right direction and helps me think things thru.  He’s a great, incredibly wise man and he’s someone I’ve always looked up to.  For my fellow Gunn Gator alumni, he was the architect that designed Gunn.  He flew his own plane, never ever got upset, always remained calm, cool and collected.  He had the greatest smelling pipes when I was around him, and he always called me, “brother Dave” when I was a child.  Yep, in my eyes, and in the eyes of many others, he could do no wrong.  He was one of the closest things to a father that I had.  About the only thing I could fault him for was bringing my younger cousin into this world.  But in his defense, I really believe that she was really just one of those neighborhood kids who hung around and refused to go back to her own house.  (I can’t wait for the response from two certain females on this one!).

Uncle Terry’s advice was right on the money.  It was clear that I needed to bring in an advocate.

Let’s go visit the Cardiologist and also try a little PT, shall we?

Well I began my Monday calling Doctors, Physical Therapists, and attorneys so I could get on the road to getting better.  I was able to secure appointments with the Cardiologist and the Physical Therapist for tomorrow (Tuesday), which was actually convenient considering they’re both at Baylor Grapevine.  I told my Uncle that I was a little hesitant about seeing the Cardiologist again.  Um, and when I say “I was a little hesitant” I mean you would have had a better chance of getting me to have a root canal at a Tijuana Dental School than getting me back to see the Cardiologist.  My Uncle told me that there’s really nothing else that the Cardiologist could do to mess me up, my heart was fine and it wasn’t like he was going to do anything invasive during the appointment.  (Ya’ll go back and read that line again…..it might be important later).  I did discover a huge bruise on my right hip in the hospital that no one could explain.  I can’t drive, so I wasn’t able to go to my normal Monday night Dad’s FOCUS class that I helped teach.  To be honest I was in so much pain that I probably wouldn’t have been any good anyway.  I’m still incredibly swollen.  I can’t seem to find a comfortable position for sitting.  Can’t sit at too much of an angle because the pain kills me.  Can’t lay flat because it hurts my leg.  Need a happy medium there somewhere.  My wife touched both of my legs and she kept remarking how cold my right leg was and how warm my left leg was.  I see her touching my right leg, but I feel nothing.  I look at my foot and toes and try my hardest to move them but it’s like I can’t make them do that.  Try to stare at it and push very hard, but I just get little movement if any at all.  Even that micro movement causes terrible pain to me.

Well, here it is Tuesday and it’s time to go see the ol Cardiologist.  I got to shower today.  It still hurts like nothing I’ve ever experienced.  It’s hard to even get into the shower and then balance with all the weight on my left leg.  When the water hits my thigh, it feels like there are thousands of tiny, very sharp, shards of glass exploding violently into my thigh.  It honestly brought tears to my eyes.  There’s GOT to be an end to this pain.  Somehow.  Some way.

I got to the Cardiologist appointment.  It took me forever to hobble my way into the building.  Once inside, I was greeted by a very nice hospital volunteer who got a wheelchair for me and told me that she would push me to the Dr’s office.  The closer we got to his office, the faster my heart started beating.  I’m betting everyone heard my heart pounding.

After waiting for what seemed like an hour inside his exam room, he finally came into the room.  Something was very different.  I was expecting the very humble, apologetic man that stood by my hospital bed expressing his regret about his actions.  Today, he was very guarded and reserved.  It felt very awkward.  He has very high exam tables in his rooms, and at one point, he asked me to get up on the exam table.  I told him there was no way I could get up there onto the table.  So, he rolled over to where I was sitting.  They have the convenience of those chair/stools with wheels.  He began talking, and after a few minutes, I looked down onto the floor and saw that one of the wheels of the stool he was on had rolled onto my right foot.  Craziest thing in the world to see something like that on your foot but not feel it.  I guess he saw me looking at it, because he looked down and said, “Oops, look out for your foot.”  I kinda felt like I was being tested.

So, he began telling me about what had gone wrong in my cardiac cath procedure and that he had mistaken my femoral nerve for my femoral artery.  He told me he’d been practicing medicine since the late 70’s and had literally done thousands of these and NEVER had this happen.  So, I asked him how similarly the femoral nerve and the femoral artery look alike, and he replied that they look nothing alike.  Now friends, I don’t know how many of you have ever been around a farm, a ranch, or livestock, but the best way to describe the look on my face when he said this is that I looked at him like a cow looking at a new gate.  Being the keen observer that he was, he accurately read my um, inquisitive, look on my face.  He went on to explain that the femoral artery is much bigger and that it has a pulse in it.  So, picture this folks, one is small, the other is much bigger and pulsating.  So, if you can’t see it, then you can feel for the pulse….seems simple right?  Why heck, he even continued on and taught me some little acronym and a little saying about how to remember the order of things in that area.  I don’t remember everything he said about it, but it went something like “Vein, Empty Space, Nerve, Artery….” and then there was an “L” one in there somewhere I think, but I’m not sure where it went or what it was.  As I reflect back today, I guess he really didn’t remember all of it either on that fateful morning back in 2013.  Keep reading gang….this next paragraph is gonna make you drop your jaw while you’re reading it.

I did learn a new little tidbit of information while I was “visiting” with the Cardiologist that day.  If you’ll recall, the day of my procedure, he was running late.  I made the little breakfast joke to him right before they put me under for my procedure.  Well, at this follow up appointment, he tells me that when he cut my femoral nerve, I woke up, sat up on the table and said, “Ouch!”  So, I’m out.  I’m under.  I’m completely zonked out medicinally for this procedure, and the pain from him penetrating the nerve is so severe that I come out of it and voice my discomfort.  Seems like a scene from some crazy horror movie or great comedy….unless you’re the dude on the table.  Anyway, he continued on and told me that when I said, “Ouch” that he actually asked me if I had felt that pain go all the way down to my knee.  He said that I replied, “Yes” and then I laid back down and went right back to sleep.  Up until being told this in his office, I’d had no idea that this conversation had happened during the procedure at the hospital.

We rounded down the follow up appointment with him telling me that he could prescribe me one of two types of steroids.  He told me that one was stronger and asked what I might prefer.  My answer, obviously, was that I wanted the one that would work the quickest and get me back to normal ASAP.  I asked him how long it might be before I could regain the use of my leg, get bladder sensation again, and heal everything else.  His answer, “Only time will tell.”  Man, I’m beginning to really hate that phrase.  Seems like that’s all I’ve heard over the past week.

My first physical therapy appointment was very slow.  It was more of a fact finding really.  I was very disturbed to find out that they did not have access to my MRI’s yet.  I mean they’re a Baylor facility, they’re in the same parking lot, yet they can’t pull up my 4 MRI’s from last week.  It was very weird feeling cold air on my left leg but not being able to feel anything on my right.  It’s a crazy sensation.  Almost like my leg isn’t even there.

It’s just not working…

Well, here we are, the first week out of the hospital.  The day after my first physical therapy appointment and the follow up with the Cardiologist.  Boy, if you only knew the select, special, choice words I’d much rather substitute for “Cardiologist” while referring to this Doctor.  I had the opportunity to meet with a great attorney that was referred, ultimately, by an attorney that my Mom knows via some connection out in California.  I think maybe it was Pepperdine University or something like that.  Anyway, we spoke on the phone and the more that I told him of my recent “adventures”, he decided that he would come right out to visit with me in person at home.  The minute I met him, I knew that he was the right one for the job.  It wasn’t about some impressive resume.  It wasn’t about his career earnings in lawsuits.  It wasn’t about his fee.  It was the feeling I got from him.  I had been asking GOD, thru the scariest of these times and during my most intimate of conversations with HIM to please bring me someone to help fight for me.  Someone to advocate for me, someone to steer me thru these rough waters.  I wanted someone to care about what my family and I were experiencing.  Yep, Hunt Bonneau was most definitely that person.  He’s a great, great guy (even though he never introduced me to my favorite Texas Longhorn quarterback) that I’d recommend to anyone.  Look for him folks.  He’s a friend of mine on Facebook, and yes, I very much have his permission to include his name in my little trip down the memory lane of medical hell.

My wife left early that morning to handle some things for work.  I was in a tremendous amount of pain today.  I had no choice but to lay in bed until she returned home to help get me dressed.  She had left very early and didn’t want to wake me when she left.  Thanks to the poor planning on my part, I hadn’t figured out a way to get to the kitchen and back with a DrPepper to take my morning meds.  I woke up again wishing, instead of thinking, that it was all just a nightmare and wishing that I could walk on my own and be able to run and play with my sons.  It is so very tough to want to do so many things that just a little over a week ago I was able to do.  From the waist down, I’m not complete.  I crave the feelings of closeness and to be able to respond to touch, but physically, it’s just not happening.  Sometimes throughout the day my mind wanders about how long I’ll be like this.  Will my marriage survive this?  I’m 41 years old (at this time) and don’t have a clue of when I need to empty my bladder, and I have to walk with a walker.  I know that I should not be ashamed, but it is very embarrassing to me to be in public using a walker.  I fear that the boys will be embarrassed by me in this condition.  I feel like I’m much too young for all of this.  I still don’t understand why my right kneecap feels like it is in a vice-grip with someone constantly tightening the grip on it.  It hurts all the way down to the bone.  Sort of like when you have a cavity, and the cavity hurts all the way to the core of your tooth.  That’s probably the closest way I can describe it.  Ultimately I would spend the entire day inside.  When my wife helped me to bed, she remarked again how cold my right foot and leg were and how warm my left leg was.  Why does it seem like each day gets worse instead of getting better?  Am I being punished?  Is there a master plan?  I’ve always been a fixer and my mind is now racing constantly for a way to fix this.  For a way to end this pain on my family, and just make it all go away.

I’m gonna have to leave it here right now.  Even reliving all of this, right here, right now, March 2, 2017, it still brings a tear to my eye.  I’ll write more very soon, but right now I can’t.  I’m sorry……

Dave

Is there REALLY nobody feeling no pain down in Luckenbach, Texas?

Well, I began this first Thursday out of the hospital thinking I’d make some headway regarding obtaining my shower chair, but the folks at Blue Cross Blue Shield decided they’d like to do a little arguing.  Game on pal!  I mean it seems easy, right?  Can’t bear weight on one of my legs so the Doctor says I need a shower chair to prevent falls, and to prevent folks from saying I stink too.  So, he writes it down on his fancy little prescription pad that I’ll be needing a shower chair.  The folks at the insurance company had already approved my walker and my wheelchair, so the logic, to me, was that they could see that I needed the other two apparatus and therefore the need for the shower chair would be blatantly obvious.  Ya know where I screwed up?  I applied common sense to an element that isn’t well versed in the use of common sense.  Now, I have this philosophy that I will NOT accept the answer “No” from someone who doesn’t have the power to tell me a “Yes”.  In other words, if you’re not the person to approve this, then let’s not waste each others time.  Just go ahead and put me in touch with the kind person who can authorize these sorts of items.  Well, I finally worked my way up the food chain within BCBS and got the person who could handle my request.  This fella was adamant about refusing my prescription for the shower chair.  Why?  Their “logic” was that I could potentially benefit from using the shower chair after I heal.  I’m sorry Mr. Insurance Man, we seem to have a bad connection!  It sounded like you said I could benefit from this shower chair device after I heal.  OH, you DID say that.  Hmmph, I don’t really see how.  I normally don’t do much typing, paperwork, or internet surfing on my laptop while I’m in the shower, but hey, let’s go with this logic.  Don’t you think I might benefit from the wheelchair once I heal?  I mean, I’ve got four sons that are pretty competitive, and I’m betting we could get them to do races down the sidewalk with the wheelchair.  Heck, we might even draw a crowd to the races and maybe sell some snowcones.  Oh, you didn’t find that funny?  Good, now we’re both even Mr. Insurance Man.  Tell you what I’m gonna do.  I’m gonna get off the phone now and go take a shower.  Please understand though, kind sir, that I have to use my shower door for leverage to get in and out of the shower, and sometimes to even hold on to while I’m in the shower.  Now, it’s glass, so it could break.  If it does break, I’m probably gonna fall.  If I fall, I’m gonna call 9-1-1 because I can’t drive myself to the hospital.  Once that ambulance gets me to the hospital, they’re gonna do a CT scan, some x-rays, and then some Dr is gonna come in and ALL of that is going to be paid by your insurance company.  What’s that you say?  Ohhhhh, you’ll go ahead and approve the shower chair?  Thanks!  ‘preciate it! (Nimrod!)

Also did my 2nd physical therapy appointment on this same day.  Was able to get a little more motion in my leg with the therapist moving my leg up to the point of pain while I laid on the exam table.  My therapist did become very concerned about the circulation in my right foot.  He checked  the capillary refill in the toes of my right foot.  When you press on your fingernails or toe nails, they’ll turn white and should refill back to their normal pinkish color within 3-5 seconds.  This is a sign of normal circulation.  Today, mine were well over 10 seconds on the toes of my right foot.  This indicates poor circulation.  Apparently the nerves play a very important part of our circulation system.  I honestly always thought that the circulation system was a direct function of the heart only, but the nerves communicate how much blood is needed in the various parts of our body.  Wow!  I learned a new lesson at my physical therapy appointment.  Hey, this might be useful on a couple of different avenues.  I have always been in awe of how the body functions and operates.

Well, by the time this day had ended, I was both physically and mentally zapped.  Arguing with those folks at Blue Cross and then having PT really sucked it all out of me.  I remember getting home this particular day and just looking at the stairs wondering how I would ever be able to get up them again.  I honestly just didn’t have the energy anymore to deal with the pain and effort it takes to get up there.  I hate not having the freedom/ability to make the simple walk from living room to bedroom unassisted.  The next day (Friday, October 4, 2013) would bring the boys for their weekend visit.  This was to be the first visit with the boys since being in the hospital.  I remember hoping that Lincoln and Callan wouldn’t be freaked out or scared of seeing me this way.  My two sets of boys, truly, the only two things in life that make it worth living!