Tuesday AM Update on Matt

Well, yesterday was a rough day.  Grateful His mercies are new every morning, cuz I’m greatly in need of some new mercies on this morning.

 

Matt and I arrived at our nearest hospital yesterday morning around 7:30ish.  Matt was scheduled to have an infusion treatment for his colitis flare up (he had scheduled that a few weeks ago).  Since we knew Matt really needed to have the HIDA scan to test his gallbladder function, plus the fact that the HIDA scan must be ordered through a doctor and cannot be ordered via the ER, we had made a plan to contact Matt’s gastroenterologist to ask him to order the HIDA scan Monday morning.

Well, Monday was just a tad bit crazy.  And frustrating.  And sad.  And exhausting.  Physically.  Emotionally.  Spiritually.

 

 

This is how our day looked, in a nutshell (pics are my Facebook status updates throughout the day.  BTW, I have no idea why my Facebook profile pic is showing up with someone else’s kids in it!  That’s not my profile pic, but it showed up in every screenshot I took.  Weird.):

 

There were just So.  Many.  Things.  That.  Went.  Wrong.  I truly couldn’t believe so many things back to back.  I felt a little bit like Job, with Satan just picking on us, although, praise God, it wasn’t even comparable to what Job endured.  I just hate Satan.  He’s such a slimy, relentless serpent who’s never going to win, and yet he never gives up.

 

By this time, we’d been at the hospital waiting to be seen by a doc for about 6 hours or so with my husband suffering in pain without answers, being given the run-around, not being able to have anything to eat/drink since he might have surgery, having no pain meds since he wasn’t admitted to even the ER for the greater part of the day.  A bed finally opens in the ER, but it’s located in the only double room in the ER.  Do we care about sharing?  Not a bit.  Just grateful to have a bed.  And some medical care!  And it appeared that the patient sharing the room with us, separated by a mere thin sheet/curtain was dressed and ready to be discharged.  At least it wasn’t an insane person screaming profanities (we’ve had that before) and at least it wasn’t a teenage stabbing victim who was vomiting everywhere with police escorts to restrain him (we’ve had that before, too).

Then the ER doc walks in and it’s the very doc who misdiagnosed Matt last Thursday night.  UGH!  At least she ordered him some good pain meds and was empathetic.  So, Matt’s nurse gave him some Dilaudid (7/x stronger than morphine), along with Zofran for nausea.  Then Matt was feeling good.  Euphoric.  He no longer cared about his pain, his grumbling belly, his inconveniences and discomforts.

 

In walks the HIDA scan tech to inform us that Matt cannot get the HIDA scan because he was just given Dilaudid!!!  The scan must be done without any narcotics in the system.  UGH!  The tech apologized and explained that he tells the ER docs repeatedly that they cannot give pain meds with the HIDA scan.  The tech explains that Matt won’t be able to get the HIDA scan until Tuesday.  Great.  Another delay in this already long and frustrating day.

 

Patient next to us is discharged.

 

We have the room to ourselves, so I begin to discuss with the ER doc that we want them to just remove Matt’s gallbladder, without waiting to do the HIDA test. 

 

That conversation was interrupted by a woman being whisked into the empty slot next to Matt’s bed.  This woman had just arrived via ambulance, she had her clothes torn off as about 15 people worked feverishly on her.  My palms sweated.  The ER doctor turned to help them.  I knew instantly what was happening.

This woman was in cardiac arrest.  She had coded.  The glass doors to the room were closed and we were locked inside only to relive the exact scenario of losing our very own daughter.  Same words.  Epi in 3 minutes.  Epi in.  Pulse check in 15 seconds.  We have no pulse.  We have no heartbeat.  We need a different bag.  Bag her.  More epi.  Epi in.  No pulse.  Pupils fixed and dilated.  Same sounds.  Alarms beeping everywhere.  The pumping of hand compressions on the chest.  Panicked voices.  Same smells.  Blood.  Same emotions.  Tears.  Shaking.  Sweating.  Praying. 

I could hardly believe it.  I sat there and cried.  And prayed.  I wanted to run, but I needed to stay.  Complete disbelief that this was actually happening.  I never ever thought we’d have to relive that moment.  Although it wasn’t our daughter on the other side of the sheet/curtain, it brought me back to the exact scenario that played out the morning that Chrissie went to dance eternally with Jesus. 

And then after 25 minutes of compressions, the sounds stopped.  The alarms silenced.  No more compressions.  No more bagging.  Now just tears as the family was brought in and the woman was pronounced dead.  We were quiet as a mouse, trying not to disrupt the family’s grieving.  So, so, so sad.  So, so, so tough.  Hard, hard, hard stuff.  Why, oh why, out of all the other rooms we could have been in (private rooms) were we placed in the only double room at the exact time of a code to relive the exact way our daughter’s last moments on this earth were spent?  So, so, so hard.

And then as I wanted to pray over the family, the doors were unlocked and the receptionist came to wheel Matt out to another room.  Everyone was apologizing that we were locked in there.  No one had any idea what we had experienced on May 19, 2010.  No idea.

Y’all, I had to do some serious bossing of my heart.  My emotions were all over the place.  I needed to make my heart beat in sync with God’s, following the example of our princess Chrissie.  I was desperate for my Savior to take over, as I was done.  For when I am weak, He is strong.  Praise Him for His strength.  There is nothing too much for our God.

 

We sat for a while in our new ER private room, waiting to hear what the plan was.  ER doc ordered another ultrasound of the liver and gallbladder.  Radiologist reported that there appeared to a gallstone at the neck of the gallbladder.  Would Matt have surgery that night?

 

Nope, Matt would be transferred to a patient room around 7PMish where he would wait to hear from the floor doctor.  He could have clear liquids, but nothing else.

Floor doctor came by around 9:30PMish to let Matt know that he would get the HIDA scan in the morning sometime.  He would be NPO (nothing by mouth) after midnight and no pain meds so the HIDA scan would be accurate.  A plan would be made based upon the outcome of the HIDA scan.

 

Please pray for accurate results, an accurate diagnosis, and prompt, correct treatment of the problem.  I’ll most likely update via Facebook as it’s just easier to type quick updates there than it is via the blog.

 

Thanks so much for praying!!!