She’s way younger than me... and she’s already settled into this room... There are about seven beds here. One... at the far end, there's this young addict from California who was literally pulled back from the brink of death... My neighbor keeps feeding me updates. Meanwhile, I'm trying to comfort her by telling her about my contrast CT scan... but she’s insisting on getting an MRI first... magnetic resonance! She's totally panicking... it's pointless... my niece went through an MRI almost like it was nothing!
It's a much more precise method than mine! And then it hits me. My wife already had one "standard" CT and they actually found a ruptured vessel in her brain, so now they probably need to get a clearer picture... the woman is young, just a year younger than my son...
She goes in tomorrow... for the MRI... and we've been leaning on each other all night and through the next morning.
I was exhausted and crashed out, while she was happy just because she warned me how loud she snores. The nurses wake us up early in the morning. Vitals... blood pressure and temperature checks... breakfast, and only then do we handle personal hygiene.
My neighbor is waiting for an open slot for a CT... and she keeps peeking behind the curtain at the other neighbor... A little while ago, they were changing the linens and "cleaning" our beds... except for me. I don't belong with them.
That neighbor on her other side... he finally calmed down... showing me his crossed hands... basically signaling he's "done," even though he's been complaining for half an hour...
The nurses changed the bed sheets again and she thought it was weird.... hm....
It wasn't until I got home that I saw the obituary in the paper.... 81 years old!
I am totally helpless here... and naked... barely even covered up. I’m just looking for at least the top half of my pajamas... there is NO WAY I can be in the ICU like this.
I'm feeling a bit chilly, and then I look over and see my "neighbor" right next to me in their pajamas. I'll ask them again... they claim they "have no idea" where everything went after they stripped away my last shred of privacy before the procedure.
This neighbor seems pretty happy with me. Honestly, I have no clue why. I guess I'll find out in the next few days.
Honestly, I’m not feeling any better. My head is still pounding, and my left arm is just as useless as it was before.
They kept shuttling me around looking for an open bed... ended up getting dropped off in a Step 2 ICU this time. I didn't even realize where I was until I arrived, just listening to my son's voice in the car on the way there...
"We're here!"
I managed to peek over the side of the bed... and saw them both standing there. They wheeled me right into the room. I have no clue how much time passed, all I can see through the glass of the unit is my son waving at me.
It only clicked later... they had to head out, and it was already late afternoon.
It’s just the two of us stuck in this limbo... me and one nurse who hasn't slept all night. I’m doing all the talking, while she supposedly responds just with facial expressions?
Please, just give me some water... my sister keeps bringing me these soaked sponges to wipe my dry mouth... I see someone in white... a doctor? I keep asking for water again... just a spoonful... - "Let her drink," they say... then she starts spraying water at me with some kind of misting bottle... I'm begging... can I please just have a plastic cup?
- Then the doctor goes, "Just let her drink as much as she needs!" Finally, I get to drink some water like a normal human being! I think I finally managed to pass out after that... I woke up the next day, but I couldn't even tell what time it was.
But now comes the real headache: getting back home... My bed is waiting for me, but I'm not there yet!
So I’m just sitting here looking around, right? And then I hear this "sister" figure talking to me like we’re actually related, asking if I'm awake and what my room number is. I see about seven beds over there... plus all the comments... they're moving me to another room where it'll just be two of us. So I'm not even going back to my old room... and it's already late at night... and one sister is staying up with us. The other guy is male... and honestly, he doesn't look lucid at all. He's still totally intubated.
They’re pulling on my tube and everything is going sideways... I can't breathe... not with my own lungs. They’re rushing to fix it and using some kind of suction device to "clear" my lungs (?)... I can hear them... talking about how much phlegm is in there. Someone is telling me to cough... I CAN'T
I'M CHOKING.... I can't even make a sound.
They finally cleared me out and I can catch my breath, but they aren't taking the tube out of my nose yet... ANOTHER PROBLEM....
The next thing I remember... someone’s saying I was fully conscious, talking about it being around 3 AM, and then someone mentions me opening my eyes...
I CAN'T... I can't move a single muscle, and there's a tube in my mouth?
Right from the jump. See, my veins and arteries are super fragile, so they’ve always had a bit of a "struggle" whenever they need to draw blood for labs or prep me for anesthesia. They managed to pull it off this time, though. The last thing I remember was staring at the monitor, watching this little "line" traveling along some graph... and then suddenly, they popped the mask over my face. It was actually pretty easy, honestly, since I didn't have to get a tooth pulled. My teeth are still all there! And I looked up and saw it was 11:00! 😉
He meant injecting the stuff directly into that dilated vessel in my brain using a catheter through the femoral artery. I wasn't even surprised, honestly. They’d done the exact same thing before to pump in contrast dye during an imaging scan so they could pinpoint the "spot" better. See, those first plain CT scans just showed some vague shadow without really showing what it actually was. It could’ve been a tumor, and if they couldn't tell, there was no way they were moving forward with any invasive procedure.
That initial part—getting the contrast through the groin artery and up to the head—wasn't even that bad. The only annoying bit was having to sit there glued to a sandbag afterward, not moving an inch... because if I ripped that patch off my groin, I’d be bleeding everywhere.
Why go through the femoral artery? Because it's the biggest one they can use to get things done.
So, they finally "prepped" me—which is just code for jamming a catheter in my pen and dragging me off for another brain CT scan before heading to the OR for the non-invasive procedure. Since I was supposed to be under full anesthesia, the plan was to head straight back to "my" room once it was over.
So I hung out here for a few days to get settled in, and then one morning they whisked me off for surgery. They claimed it was way less invasive than traditional brain surgery because they were just going to "plug" this bulging blood vessel before it popped... they explained it to me using this analogy about an overinflated bike tire.
During those few prep days, I was easily the youngest 😁 and the only one actually moving—well, enough to make it to the bathroom and handle basic hygiene. That's when you still feel like a real person, you know? Still, I had to fight for every single little "trip" I took. The nurses were constantly hovering and tattling to the attending doctor if I tried to sneak off to the restroom on my own! So I asked them, what's the big deal? The doc says if I happen to take a tumble, things could end catastrophically. I asked him point-blank, does that mean I'm gonna die...? ...Yeah, he said so.
So I told him, so what? I mean, sooner or later, we all go, right? 😁
stormylynx14 said:First off, there was way more staff there than anywhere else. On a regular floor, you might catch a nurse for five minutes a few times a day, right? But here? They were everywhere! And they actually had time to look after the patients, too.
Exactly! You totally nailed the point. But wait—there’s a catch. That’s why I even started this thread. See, ICU/recovery rooms aren't all the same! They vary wildly. I’ve actually been through three different kinds myself.
1. The "real" deal would be the post-op recovery area. You know, when you're waking up from anesthesia and you're fully aware of everything, but you can't even blink... if you can manage a tiny tongue movement, that's basically how they know you're conscious while you're still intubated. That's when they have those breathing tubes down your throat or nose.
2. Intensive Care—basically just like a specialized ward. This is where you end up either coming straight from the ER (like I did) or being moved from that first stage after a procedure (yeah, me again).
On both of these units, visitors are a total no-go. If you're fully awake, maybe you can see people through a glass partition, but that's it. These areas handle all sorts of emergency cases that need a diagnosis before getting sent off for tests or prepped for "the big thing." Then you get sent back once it's over, depending on how things go. In these two types, you are 100% dependent on the nurses and the guys on the tech team. Seriously, they have male staff there too. One guy in unit #2 actually had the same name as one of our forum members... I couldn't stop laughing at first!
3. The third type of intensive care... it's almost like an open ward. You can actually have visitors, and you might even sneak in a little radio or a "hidden" cell phone. 😁
I started out in that third type, but after a bunch of tests and prep work, they stripped me of everything... took my phone, my rings, my wallet—everything. They made me sign a paper and handed my stuff over to my family.
Ben, just when I finally have a topic and some actual inspiration, I can't even get going. 😁 If I were actually up for it, I’d start my own blog and just vent about... you know, what they've got pumping into my IV right now...😂😂
slyviper47 said:Because I'm actually at a funeral today for a young woman who was my neighbor in the hospital. She was in a coma and just never woke up.
Matthew Morris28 said:Sarah? Good grief, just tell them to their face instead of dragging someone's final moments into an argument about the internet.
Either I’ve finally lost my mind, or this whole world has gone totally downhill fast. 🙂
Seriously, go back and read what I actually wrote. Where did I ever say I was going to gossip about someone else's life or death?
Screw you, Sarah! Can people seriously not write anything meaningful anymore without turning everything into a joke? Thanks, but no thanks. I'm way too old for this crap!🙄 Besides, how on earth am I supposed to know anything about some stranger's family when I only saw them for a split second while they were unconscious?😲
What a total nightmare.😢 Seriously, from February 7th to the 19th, I spent basically my entire life stuck in the ICU rooms of a hospital in Chicago.
I’m gonna try to describe how bad things actually were—at least, as much as I can manage while typing with just one finger. My other hand? Well, that’s pretty much the reason I ended up in an ICU room in the first place... or, to put it formally:Intensive Care!
It’s gonna be tough to write because I’m still in this state... honestly, it’s almost exactly how it was before. Basically, nothing has changed. So why even bother posting?
Because today is the funeral for a young woman who was my neighbor in the next bed over. She went into a coma and never woke up.
Man, I would give anything to tell her mom and kids about her final moments, but physically, I just can't do it.
I've had enough for now. I'll try to tell the whole story from the beginning if I can find the strength. My doctor is actually coming by my place today, hopefully to check on me and hand over my discharge papers... we'll see. Bye! Let me know what you think or if you've gone through something similar. I'd love to hear your stories.