| General Non-Fiction posted November 17, 2024 | Chapters: |
...5 6 -7- 8 
|
It didn't have to happen
A chapter in the book I Survived
My Code Blue Experience
by Debi Pick Marquette
It was the early morning of July 7th, 2022. I sat in the backseat of my daughter Michelle's car while my other daughter, Bridget, rode shotgun. They thought I was sleeping, but I was daydreaming about the miracle of getting a new knee and leg. My husband couldn't be with us as we had planned our Summer, taking turns having much-needed surgeries. His hip replacements would be in June and August, and my knee and legs would be in July and September. So, he was still recovering from his first one at home.
I was thinking about the days when I was a walking fool. I wouldn't quit until I had at least 10,000 steps on my Fitbit in a days time.
But more important were the memories of my time with my grandkids. I am not sure if I have ever enjoyed my life more than I have with them. I still enjoy them immensely, but back then we were all about non-stop fun and laughter. We may have even had a record of the most uses for duct tape. We went from building forts to science experiments, making Rice Krispy bars with my Andrew and playing farm with my Goobs, (Carter). It seemed I had one special thing with each kid and many with all of them, until they decided to do the inevitable, they grew up. Which was maybe for the best as I could see that I was slowing down a lot towards the end. I pray the memories live forever in their minds.
My lupus of thirty years had taken so much from me already, and now it had slowly disabled my legs since they were weakened and were in the formation, much like the letter X and the bones needed to be straightened and built up. I could walk a few steps with a walker when need be. Still, I spent much of my time in a wheelchair because not only were my legs bad, but my knees were bone on bone, which made it twice as hard to walk.
I hoped to write while in the hospital, so I brought one of my iPads. I joined FanStory in 2021 during COVID, which had removed all physical human contact except my husband. I was incredibly lonely for my family, especially my grandchildren. My immune system was very low, so we couldn't allow anyone in the house, even with a mask.
It was during the pandemic when I learned that my lupus along with my chronic anemia had also caused kidney damage, and now I had stage 4 kidney disease. At my last appointment, my husband reminded my surgeon about my health challenges.
I am proud to say that I had already planned to refuse any narcotics since I had been addicted to them years earlier when my doctor had pushed them on me for my lupus pain. I took them for ten years and was on high doses of OxyContin and Percocet when I decided to wean off, with my doctor's help. It wasn't easy, but it was well worth it. I just knew that I didn't dare start retaking them. They were way too hard to quit the first time around.
That morning after my surgery, I was released from recovery and put in my room, and all seemed to be okay. The doctors said it was a success. That evening, they brought all my night meds to me. I should have looked at what it included, but I assumed they were all there. After all, nobody had said anything to me about changing my medication schedule.
Later, after I had fallen asleep for a few hours, I woke with a sensation that something was wrong. I could feel my legs wanting to jump and twitch, but it was mostly an uncontrollable urge to throw my legs around and stop the horrible sensation. So I rang for the nurse, and when she came in, I asked if they had given me the medication for restless leg syndrome. She said no, that it contributes to lowering blood pressure. I told her they had to give me something as it was getting so bad that I could hardly stand it. I was afraid that I would somehow hurt my leg or knee as they have always spazzed when I don't have the medication.
The nurse refused to help me and told me I should try to relax. Besides, it was the weekend, and they usually don't like to contact the doctor on call unless it is an emergency.
As it got later and later, I could feel an anxiety attack coming on. I could barely get my air and was trying hard not to move my legs. I felt like I was going to die. I looked at the clock, and it was 3 AM. The nurse came in to check my vitals and the IV, and I told her about the panic attack and how uncomfortable my legs were; she told me to lie back and take some deep breaths, and I would be fine.
When she left the room I got out my iPad that was on the bed with me and texted all three of my children. I hated to do this to them but I knew I had to at least say goodbye. I told them I loved them and feared I might not make it through the night. I explained what had happened regarding my restless legs medication, and how that had led to a panic attack and worse. I wanted them to be aware just in case I didn't survive, as I was sure they would not hear the truth of what had been happening.
A few minutes later, the nurse returned to check my blood pressure, heart rate and also the heart monitor. Suddenly, she ran out of the room, and soon there was a code blue announcement, and a team of people rushed in to work on me. There were so many people hooking wires and straps on me, putting meds in my IVs, etc... that I just closed my eyes and started praying. At that very moment, I felt Jesus holding me in His arms. The pain was gone and I felt so peaceful. I didn't recall anything after that until I woke up in intensive care.
After they had me stabilized and established in intensive care, labs came and took my blood. I looked like a pin cushion before they were done with me. I also noticed that I was bruised all over and had so many wires in me that I wasn't sure where they were all leading. Plus, I had four blood transfusions before I left the hospital, as my hemoglobin was at 5, when they first tested it, which is extremely dangerous.
My children and husband were there by 7 AM and extremely upset by the news of the Code Blue and that I had been ignored when I asked to have the doctor called to help with the restless legs. One of my daughters said that the fact that it got so bad that I had to text them to say I may not make it showed that even I knew that my body was in distress. She also pointed out that "On call" doctors are "On call" for a reason and there was no way I should have been ignored, especially when much of my trauma could have been avoided.
When the doctor came in, he explained to us that much of what caused the problem was from me losing so much blood during surgery. My family immediately wanted to know why the blood wasn't restored, and the answer was that most bodies restore it on their own. That is when I could see my husband's blood pressure rising. He reminded the doctor that he had warned him about my medical history. The doctor passed the blame onto recovery, saying it was their responsibility at that point to take care of it.
I remained in intensive care for another week and in the hospital for two more weeks after that. I had visits from hospital administrators, and I could tell they feared a lawsuit.
Of course, I had no plans to sue them, but I offered my advice for them to listen to their patients more closely and, if they are going to take away medications, to talk to them ahead of time and not do it without their knowledge.
I was just so very thankful that Jesus brought me through that night and that I had survived.
So, in September, when I had my other leg and knee done (at a different hospital) this time, my son was there too and insisted on talking to the doctor ahead of time. The woman at the front desk said they didn't do that before the surgery, but he could speak to him afterward. My son told her, either I talk to him before, or the surgery doesn't happen. The surgeon was out there within ten minutes. I don't know exactly what Jason said to him, but I knew whatever he said was to help his mom, and I knew that meant things would be different this time. And they were!
It was the early morning of July 7th, 2022. I sat in the backseat of my daughter Michelle's car while my other daughter, Bridget, rode shotgun. They thought I was sleeping, but I was daydreaming about the miracle of getting a new knee and leg. My husband couldn't be with us as we had planned our Summer, taking turns having much-needed surgeries. His hip replacements would be in June and August, and my knee and legs would be in July and September. So, he was still recovering from his first one at home.
I was thinking about the days when I was a walking fool. I wouldn't quit until I had at least 10,000 steps on my Fitbit in a days time.
But more important were the memories of my time with my grandkids. I am not sure if I have ever enjoyed my life more than I have with them. I still enjoy them immensely, but back then we were all about non-stop fun and laughter. We may have even had a record of the most uses for duct tape. We went from building forts to science experiments, making Rice Krispy bars with my Andrew and playing farm with my Goobs, (Carter). It seemed I had one special thing with each kid and many with all of them, until they decided to do the inevitable, they grew up. Which was maybe for the best as I could see that I was slowing down a lot towards the end. I pray the memories live forever in their minds.
My lupus of thirty years had taken so much from me already, and now it had slowly disabled my legs since they were weakened and were in the formation, much like the letter X and the bones needed to be straightened and built up. I could walk a few steps with a walker when need be. Still, I spent much of my time in a wheelchair because not only were my legs bad, but my knees were bone on bone, which made it twice as hard to walk.
I hoped to write while in the hospital, so I brought one of my iPads. I joined FanStory in 2021 during COVID, which had removed all physical human contact except my husband. I was incredibly lonely for my family, especially my grandchildren. My immune system was very low, so we couldn't allow anyone in the house, even with a mask.
It was during the pandemic when I learned that my lupus along with my chronic anemia had also caused kidney damage, and now I had stage 4 kidney disease. At my last appointment, my husband reminded my surgeon about my health challenges.
I am proud to say that I had already planned to refuse any narcotics since I had been addicted to them years earlier when my doctor had pushed them on me for my lupus pain. I took them for ten years and was on high doses of OxyContin and Percocet when I decided to wean off, with my doctor's help. It wasn't easy, but it was well worth it. I just knew that I didn't dare start retaking them. They were way too hard to quit the first time around.
That morning after my surgery, I was released from recovery and put in my room, and all seemed to be okay. The doctors said it was a success. That evening, they brought all my night meds to me. I should have looked at what it included, but I assumed they were all there. After all, nobody had said anything to me about changing my medication schedule.
Later, after I had fallen asleep for a few hours, I woke with a sensation that something was wrong. I could feel my legs wanting to jump and twitch, but it was mostly an uncontrollable urge to throw my legs around and stop the horrible sensation. So I rang for the nurse, and when she came in, I asked if they had given me the medication for restless leg syndrome. She said no, that it contributes to lowering blood pressure. I told her they had to give me something as it was getting so bad that I could hardly stand it. I was afraid that I would somehow hurt my leg or knee as they have always spazzed when I don't have the medication.
The nurse refused to help me and told me I should try to relax. Besides, it was the weekend, and they usually don't like to contact the doctor on call unless it is an emergency.
As it got later and later, I could feel an anxiety attack coming on. I could barely get my air and was trying hard not to move my legs. I felt like I was going to die. I looked at the clock, and it was 3 AM. The nurse came in to check my vitals and the IV, and I told her about the panic attack and how uncomfortable my legs were; she told me to lie back and take some deep breaths, and I would be fine.
When she left the room I got out my iPad that was on the bed with me and texted all three of my children. I hated to do this to them but I knew I had to at least say goodbye. I told them I loved them and feared I might not make it through the night. I explained what had happened regarding my restless legs medication, and how that had led to a panic attack and worse. I wanted them to be aware just in case I didn't survive, as I was sure they would not hear the truth of what had been happening.
A few minutes later, the nurse returned to check my blood pressure, heart rate and also the heart monitor. Suddenly, she ran out of the room, and soon there was a code blue announcement, and a team of people rushed in to work on me. There were so many people hooking wires and straps on me, putting meds in my IVs, etc... that I just closed my eyes and started praying. At that very moment, I felt Jesus holding me in His arms. The pain was gone and I felt so peaceful. I didn't recall anything after that until I woke up in intensive care.
After they had me stabilized and established in intensive care, labs came and took my blood. I looked like a pin cushion before they were done with me. I also noticed that I was bruised all over and had so many wires in me that I wasn't sure where they were all leading. Plus, I had four blood transfusions before I left the hospital, as my hemoglobin was at 5, when they first tested it, which is extremely dangerous.
My children and husband were there by 7 AM and extremely upset by the news of the Code Blue and that I had been ignored when I asked to have the doctor called to help with the restless legs. One of my daughters said that the fact that it got so bad that I had to text them to say I may not make it showed that even I knew that my body was in distress. She also pointed out that "On call" doctors are "On call" for a reason and there was no way I should have been ignored, especially when much of my trauma could have been avoided.
When the doctor came in, he explained to us that much of what caused the problem was from me losing so much blood during surgery. My family immediately wanted to know why the blood wasn't restored, and the answer was that most bodies restore it on their own. That is when I could see my husband's blood pressure rising. He reminded the doctor that he had warned him about my medical history. The doctor passed the blame onto recovery, saying it was their responsibility at that point to take care of it.
I remained in intensive care for another week and in the hospital for two more weeks after that. I had visits from hospital administrators, and I could tell they feared a lawsuit.
Of course, I had no plans to sue them, but I offered my advice for them to listen to their patients more closely and, if they are going to take away medications, to talk to them ahead of time and not do it without their knowledge.
I was just so very thankful that Jesus brought me through that night and that I had survived.
So, in September, when I had my other leg and knee done (at a different hospital) this time, my son was there too and insisted on talking to the doctor ahead of time. The woman at the front desk said they didn't do that before the surgery, but he could speak to him afterward. My son told her, either I talk to him before, or the surgery doesn't happen. The surgeon was out there within ten minutes. I don't know exactly what Jason said to him, but I knew whatever he said was to help his mom, and I knew that meant things would be different this time. And they were!
 Recognized |
#5 November 2024 |
My thanks still go out to Margaret, Late Bloomer, who wrote a poem of prayer for me after this ordeal. Because of her considerate poem, I received many prayers from you.
Thank you all.
Pays
10 points
and 1.02 member dollars. Thank you all.
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