So....here I am. I wasn't aware that was an option less than an hour ago. It's happened to me before, twice, in fact, but you never know if the next time is going to be the last time. Thank God, and I mean that, thank God, I'm not dying, and I'm OK, and all is well - or at least, it will be. I'll tell you all about it.
About 12 years ago, I had my first real bout with acute indigestion. Of course, when it happened, I knew it wasn't a gallbladder issue because I don't have one. I knew it wasn't my heart, but not for the same reason. I do have a heart. I knew it wasn't my heart because even through the horror of it all, the pain, the sweating, and the shallow breathing, I could tell my heart was doing OK; at least I thought so.
About 12 years ago, in the early summer, I think, I was at a BBQ, and I ate a big burger, which was part of the issue, and the other part of it was that the mayonnaise had been left out for a minute; I had both acute indigestion from the burger getting stuck and I had a touch of food poisoning. What all happened that day, I don't remember; the drugs were that good. I do remember the ambulance ride and my daughter driving me home. After that, I can only remember paying off the hospital bill for the next six months.
The diagnosis was acute indigestion; something I was a little embarrassed about because I was literally calling 911 while curled up into a ball, sweating and crying. It was terrible! How could it be that bad? But it was, and when they finally were able to pull my legs down from my chest and hook me up to the medicine, it was lights out until I was in my bed later that evening. I don't recall a single minute of the ordeal after the needles.
The next time, and maybe another time, I ate burgers again. The reactions occurred only after I either ate too much or ate two meals closer together than usual. That's what happened today. I had a Burger King Whopper, but only 1/2 the bread. The problem arose because I had eaten a good-sized breakfast only two hours beforehand. I should have been more careful, but you don't really think that way - until you need to think that way - and now, I do need to think that way.
About two weeks ago, I went to Braum's (an ice cream and dairy store with an attached restaurant), and they had an amazing new double bacon burger. I had to try it. I knew I shouldn't, but I did, and yep, I felt it. At least, and this isn't much of an excuse, I hadn't had much to eat beforehand, so it didn't "kill" me the way I was slain today by the Whopper! Both were doomsdayers, but today's problem was so much worse. I can't blame the restaurant -it was me. I'm old, it's just the way it is. If beef isn't settling correctly and is causing me this much pain -- I'll give up beef.
Today, after eating a really nice, perfectly cooked Whopper (I never eat all the bread. I have dogs.) I may have had five minutes from the last bite to the first pang. I immediately knew what was happening, but I decided to thwart it if I could. I drank a really big drink of my tea and chomped down two Tums as fast as I could. I tried to go to the bathroom to vomit it out of me, or get it out of me the other way - I know it sounds really gross to say, but I thought if I could poop or vomit, I could get the pressure that was beginning to build inside my chest cavity to subside.
I couldn't do either; I couldn't make the thing budge. It would not move. I began to breathe; those deep and practiced breaths you do when you're having a baby, when you know you need to stop and take control of everything before you can't. It wasn't long before I became both light-headed and ultra-sensitive to movement, sound, light, dogs under my feet, and even my own breathing. It all bothered me. It all seemed to echo and throb...and then came the sweat.
Laura sat me up because I couldn't get up on my own. She helped me breathe, and I squeezed her hand. Sweat was pouring from my face and back, as she called 911, asking them to pull up into the driveway. The last time they came to take Laura, they pulled up along the curb. I knew I couldn't walk that far. They pulled up close and had the gurney ready for me. I could at least make it that far.
Interestingly, the bumpy, rough ride over the grass and gravel helped jostle my body a bit, and I could feel the lump in my chest move. I sat in the ambo for a good 30 minutes with Luke and Zoey, the great EMTs who came out to help. Luke started to put in an IV, but couldn't find a good vein. He tried both arms. Zoey asked me a lot of questions, forcing me to speak, and though it was painful, upwards of 7 out of 10 at one point, I felt that the bulge was moving and the pain subsided to a 6, then a 5, then it all but went away - until it didn't.
Several minutes went by as they ran tests on my heart rate, asked me questions, and made sure I was both alert and able to make my own decisions, and, in doing so, it gave my body time to react to the fact that digestion works in both strange and wonderful ways. Prayer helps! I was praying, telling God I know He's there, asking Him to make it go away and to be with Laura because she was about to overload mentally. He knows me, and He knows her. She wasn't going to be able to handle me being gone, so I was really thankful when the pain left my chest completely.
Luke and Zoey continued to talk with me, gave me options, and we discussed them. It was determined that I do know what is best for myself. If the pain were to return, I could call them again. They are less than one mile from my home. They worked very well together, and because I was conscious, breathing, able to answer, and able to decipher some of the silly, simple questions they ask on purpose to see if you can jump start your brain on your own -- it was determined that I'd be OK staying put; staying home.
It's been one hour since I left the ambulance. I'm sitting upright, I'm breathing, I'm typing, and I'm drinking electrolytes in my water -- but I will not be eating beef again. I don't need it. I love it. I really do, but I don't need it, and it doesn't work with my gut anymore like it used to. Luke mentioned I could have Alpha-gal, a condition a person can develop after being bitten by a particular tick. I've been bitten 100 times by ticks, so yeah, it could be that now that I'm older, that disorder has come to the surface. It would not surprise me.
What to do if I can't eat beef? Eat more vegetables, grains, nuts, chicken, rice, and fruit, I guess - at least I don't have to give up something really important like chocolate. That could end me. Beef is just that: beef. It's not a deal breaker for me. Well, that's my next-to-death experience story for you. I told Laura that dying would be an upgrade to how I was feeling. I don't know about you, but I can't stand being in pain - I am such a weenie about it. I hate it!! Knock me out or something. I just don't want to feel that way -- Thank God, I don't.
Photo Credit: Burger King
No comments:
Post a Comment