Warning: This is not a design story. It’s a quick venting about the health care process (and a few of it’s design flaws) and a major event that just happened to my father. Also, you should know I struggled with whether or not I should post something so personal. I try to keep this blog happy and light but sometimes the real world takes over and it’s not always a perfect place. I hope you don’t mind, I’m doing this by some chance someone knows something that could possibly help. I apologize if this upsets you or I haven’t had the chance to call you, it’s been a crazy few days. I’ll try to get back to regular posts in the very near future. Promise.
It’s been a long 2 days. I had plans to fly back to Denver yesterday but found myself rescheduling with United while sitting in the ICU waiting room yesterday morning. Tuesday night after the festivities of Onnie’s birthday ended my dad had a grand mal seizure. It lasted for almost an hour and was unlike any seizure I have ever experienced with him. He was completely unconscious the entire time and unresponsive. My mom called 911 and my uncle, who lives just down the street. We were all worried it was a stroke because dad is on anti-seizure meds and seemed perfectly fine, one could even go far enough to say great, the entire day prior to the seizure.
I laugh now but during the seizure my mom and I discussed whether or not we should call 911. Looking back, anyone else in that situation would think we were being ridiculous, of course you call 911. But we hesitated. And even batted around the idea of not calling. The reason being, my dad is anti doctor and definitely anti hospital. He gets upset about it too and then we have to deal with his temper. I don’t know what it is with that generation of men who won’t take care of themselves. It really drives me crazy because I don’t know who they are trying to be tough for, I don’t need a macho man.
Sense kicked in during our chat and she quickly made the call. The bad thing about a small town is anyone who has a seizure at my dad’s age, when 911 is called, Air Life is also called and the patient is taken to Chattanooga, a 40 minute drive. Our local facilities aren’t equipped for neurological type issues. The good thing about living on a farm and having a dad who knows just about every EMT and fireman in town because he volunteers there regularly, Air Life lands in the front yard. It was quite the scene. Had someone told me I was in a dream and this was a parade of lights in my front yard, I would have believed them. It was definitely better than the alternative.
Waiting, waiting, waiting was the next step. For everyone who has ever sat in an ER after midnight, I’m sorry. This is just about the least pleasant place you could ever be during a traumatic event. If you are a health care designer, come on people, step it up. Work on your lighting design skills and create an environment people would be more comfortable waiting in instead of spending all your time on the vinyl floor patterns and detailing the disgustingly ugly wall panels for the information desk.
We sat in the waiting room until 3AM before we met with a doctor to review his CT scan. The scan showed a large mass, about the size of a baseball located on his brain just behind his left eye. This came as no surprise because he has had tumors in this area before. The first time in the early 90’s, round 2 was 1997 and then he had gamma knife radiation late in ‘97. Hence the 9 lives bit. This time, the tumor is back, with vengeance. It’s like an evil villain in a comic book. It lived dormant for so many years and bang, here it is, taking over once again. Because of all these surgeries and issues with Dad’s brain, he was dropped from insurance for a number of years and within the past 2 months became eligible for Medicare. Because of the insurance coverage, he passed on getting MRI’s. His last visit was 5 years ago and he’s been dodging the issue. He lives strongly by the ‘what you don’t know, won’t hurt you’ philosophy. Still, I don’t understand that generation.
After the CT scan he was moved to ICU for further evaluation but needed an MRI and to talk with a neurosurgeon before anything could be determined. This wouldn’t happen until the following day so we tried to relax for a bit and get a couple of hours of sleep. Yesterday was a blur. Lots waiting and no answers. On the good side, dad was was taken off the ventilator, was chatting, eating a little and up to his regular antics; joking with the nurses and complaining about how long things take. And this got me thinking, why does it take so long for anything to happen? Unless it’s an emergency, it takes hours for some eye drops to show up. We are going on 48 hours in the hospital with very few answers. We know there’s a growth, we know he needs to stay at least one more night for monitoring and to make sure he doesn’t have another seizure but that is all we know. I’m not expecting him to be healed overnight, I only want to know what’s going on in that head of his.
Late last night he was taken in for his MRI. We left tonight knowing he may be released tomorrow and we are trying to schedule an appointment with specialists in Memphis. I don’t think he’ll have emergency surgery but time is of the essence. It’s difficult to find patience and at the same time, make things happen. I will say everyone who has helped my dad has been so incredible. From the EMT’s who picked him up to the nurses checking on him during the middle of the night. What they do and the hours they work for complete strangers is truly honorable and we are all so thankful for their support.
And, if by some small chance you happen to know anything about brain tumors and optic nerves I would love to hear your thoughts.
