Image: Stuart Miles / FreeDigitalPhotos.net
“There must be some way out of here
Said the joker to the thief
There’s too much confusion
I can’t get no relief”
~ All Along The Watchtower Songwriter: Bob Dylan
Kristi is extremely frustrated, not at me, but rather about me. While I am floating in and out of consciousness, enjoying what felt like a dream, Kristi is dealing with the reality of a husband in intensive care, while hunting up an emergency sitter for our three year old daughter.
My family lives in Corona, California a suburban city that lies along the outside of the Orange County border. The OC is a very desirable area to live; hence its real estate prices reflect that fact.
Corona offers similar neighborhoods like those found in the OC, but at easier to digest prices. With this lower cost comes an increase in traffic commuting along the 91 Freeway (one of the nation’s most congested thoroughfares).
Along with traffic, Corona suffers from what I perceive as second-rate shopping centers, entertainment, restaurants, and especially medical offerings. It is not out of the ordinary for my family to make the drive back into the OC to see a doctor with whom we have history and confidence in.
Kristi and I originally thought my illness was of the low severity type; therefore we based our decision for medical care more on convenience rather than quality of said medical resources. We selected Corona Regional Medical Center fully expecting to walk out later that day. Sure, I was prepared for the doctor to chastise me for eating poorly prepared food at last night’s Jimmy Buffett concert.
In the section to follow, I speak from a collection of conversations I have had over the years, with the friends and family that actually struggled through this particular phase. As I alluded to earlier in this piece, I was loony – either zonked out from my condition, the medication, or all of the above. I did not gain full consciousness for almost two months later.
I speak as well from the perspective of an honest account of the care provided to me from Corona Regional. In hind sight, I see that God’s plan was to bring me (and others) through a season of extreme challenges. Answers as to “why” God subjected us to these measures are still being made today.
To say my family was angered with the care provided by Corona Regional is an understatement. The subject of my story however is not revenge, or pursuing a medical malpractice suit, but rather on blessings – God given blessings.
“What is it gonna take to get Jeff the specialists he needs – now!”
“I can’t handle seeing him that way – I’ll put my fist through this wall!”
“Call the local media, this is unacceptable!! This is not some third world country – our medical system should not be like this!”
“Father, I turn over my son into your precious hands – your will, your way… Praise you Father…”
“Protocol, what do you mean we have to follow protocol?”
My wife, my family – were up to their ears in crisis, on a scale we had never before encountered. This was a nightmare.
Thursday April 07, 2005 I was watching Jimmy Buffett, Saturday the doctors suspected pancreatitis, a serious, but manageable condition. The doctors felt it was best to let my pancreas “rest” before attempting any surgical procedure. Sunday I began to spit up blood, and breathing was becoming extremely difficult. I’m told I made a phone call to Kristi that day alerting her to what I was going through – she told me to ring a nurse immediately. Apparently either I failed to contact the nurse, or the medical staff failed to act appropriately – the result was I was not looked at until later that day. A specialist making his rounds read the machines, and deducted that something serious was happening.
I was transitioned from the initial emergency room physician to this pancreatic specialist (at least someone who knew how to spell pancreas). This “new” doctor realized I was much more serious than originally anticipated. It was Doctor “New” that ordered me moved into ICU.
Prior to this time Kristi was at her wits end trying to get Doctor “Original” or anyone for that matter, to apply some semblance of attention at a level that I required. In frustration, Kristi phoned our General Practitioner Dr. Gebhard seeking direction; someone to answer all the questions that Corona Regional either would not answer, or by their lackadaisical attitude, further generated. Dr. Gebhard in his calm easy going manner explained the situation, what pancreatitis is, and what it can develop into. More importantly our family physician spoke to the “protocol” hospitals follow when it comes to transferring a patient to another facility. Basically, anyone walking into an ER has the right to the first awaiting bed over a transferring patient.
To complicate the situation further, Kristi did not want to tick off Corona Regional by pushing for my transfer to a better staffed facility, in fear that the level of my current care would suffer.
Dr. “New” and Kristi were unable to meet up with each other most of Sunday evening. When Dr. “New” was available to discuss the latest diagnosis, Kristi was at home on the phone with Dr. Gebhard. When Kristi was able to rush back to the hospital, Dr. “New” was not available. Kristi felt only a molecule better now that I had been moved into ICU, but the poor history of attention given to me still haunted her.
Monday I’m now intubated (assisted breathing on oxygen). Later that night, I was to have a procedure to remove gallstones (or possibly an ERCP). In a brief encounter Dr. “New” informed Kristi as to the severity of the procedure facing me. In detail he explained the two only options afforded me for anesthesia – one could kill me, the other not much better. Dr. “New” suggested that Kristi choose the “not much better” option.
Later in Pre-OP the Anesthesiologist adamantly refused to perform either option. Kristi attempted to explain that Dr. “New” had ordered the less risky path, but it fell on deaf ears (or ears that only react to lesser “liable” options). After moderating a discussion that even the United Nations would shy away from, the two physicians finally came to an agreement, with Kristi granting her consent.
A nurse who had overheard the exchange, shortly afterwards sought out Kristi (with my Dad present too) just outside of Pre-OP.
“If you don’t pray, you had better do so quickly, your husband is extremely critical.” Said the nurse.
“Oh crap!” is the thought and word uttered by Kristi.
Phone calls were quickly made, prays lifted up, tears shed, because I was not expected to make it to the next morning.
Upon completing the gallstone (or ERCP??) procedure, Dr. “New” informed my family that the situation had worsened. Words like “pancreatitis”, “nearly fatal in severe cases”, “slim if any, chance of survival” were now being spoken. The most difficult was “we are not equipped to support your husband.”
I was placed upon life support systems, and made as comfortable as possible. Meanwhile Kristi followed the “protocol” and made phone call upon phone call to Level 1 trauma centers in the west coast – Stanford, UCLA, Arizona, any place that had the willingness to accept the case, the qualified staff and an available bed.
UCI Medical Center in Orange, California stated they were willing to accept me, but not until a bed becomes available. On April 18, 2005 arrangements are made, I am then transported via ambulance while hooked up on life support, to UCIMC. Kristi, accompanied by my brother-in-law Tom, traveled shortly behind the ambulance. Upon their arrival into Surgical Care Intensive Care Unit (SICU), they were met by a well versed and organized team. All the hassle and struggle Kristi had encountered at Corona Regional, was absent here at UCI. A sense of relief, more importantly the feeling we were at the right place, was beginning to emanate.
Kristi gave a look at Tom, they both agreed that this was a much differently run hospital.
Dr. David Imagawa, a renowned Liver and Pancreatic surgeon, personally accepted my case. I was recognized as having necrotizing pancreatitis. Dr. Imagawa quickly level set the family, telling them I had only a 2% chance of survival. The battle, both physical and spiritual, was kicked up a notch.
Excerpt from my CaringBridge.com webpage, written by Kristi…
On April 8th, I took Jeff to the ER in Corona; with stomach problems (we thought at the time that he had food poisoning). He was diagnosed with gallstones and pancreatitis. We had to wait until his pancreas calmed down before we could have his gallbladder removed. He still is waiting for the gallbladder removal to happen.
April 10th, Jeff began to have difficulties breathing and had developed jaundice. He was diagnosed with acute pancreatitis and was moved to ICU and hooked up to oxygen.
April 11th, Jeff’s condition deteriorated and they performed surgery. This consisted of putting a shunt in his bile duct and small intestine. Also, Jeff was hooked up to a ventilator to breathe for him and was being kept totally sedated.
April 16th, Jeff had continued to get worse and was now diagnosed with necrosis pancreatitis. He needed to be transferred to a teaching hospital that specialized in this type of care.
April 18th, we finally found a room opened in ICU at UCI Medical Center. This evening he was transferred via ambulance to UCI.
Fade to silence, enter blackness – I am out.
To be continued…
The posts on this blog are provided ‘as is’ with no warranties and confer no rights. The opinions expressed on this site are my own and do not necessarily represent those of my employer. © 2011, Jeff Brunn
