One lazy, overcast Saturday afternoon, I was catnapping on the couch, minding my own business. I stirred and decided to watch the “Woodwrights Shop” on the other TV. Two rooms later, I sat down hard, gasping, and coughing.

“Dang allergies,” I muttered, fumbling for my inhaler. I took two puffs and switched on my show. In moments, blue graduation robes filed across my screen. “VU graduation,” I cried, turning off the TV. My coughing was worse, so I took two more puffs and headed to the other room.

“VU graduation,” I told my wife, flopping hard on the couch. That’s when it hit – a mule kicked me in the chest. Years ago, when I was tee-boned in Tell City, I cracked some ribs, but this was worse. I clutched my chest and gasped.

“You ok?” Elain asked.

“Yea, I can’t breathe, give me a minute for the inhaler to act.” That was wishful thinking – one thing followed another, and I soon found myself in the ER. One look was all Nick needed to send me on my way -Pain in the chest, aches up both arms and my neck, gasping for breath.

In the ER, they took good care of me. I still thought it was my allergies – they seemed to think otherwise.
“I’m going to give you some Morphine, and Fentanyl,” the nurse said after he got the IV in. “There’ll be a rush,” he confided. In moments, a burning flowed across my chest and the pains increased.

“I can do without that,” I told him.

“It’ll be better in a bit.”

He was right, it was, and I was soon on my way to observation, or so they said. A wheelchair appeared, with an elderly orderly. Unsmiling the orderly helped me to the wheelchair and off we went. Never breaking a smile, she pushed me down the empty hospital halls. Winding and twisting we trundled through a maze of half-dark tunnels. I soon lost my bearings, yet faster and faster we moved, stopping at last in front of an elevator. My mirthless guide merely pushed the button. In moments, we were upstairs, passing an abandoned nurse’s station. Nearby, a harried nurse knelt talking to a patient blocking the hall. Apparently, he was ignoring the nurse, and he gave me a sour look as we squeezed by.

The nurse stood to move her logging station and pointed down the dark hall. My orderly nodded and proceeded. The room was dark. At the far end, a single light cast a surreal light on the bed. My driver silently directed me to the bed. That was 10:30 pm.

There I waited, in the dark, alone, and shivering. It was too cold to sleep, so I reached for the call button. I intended to ask for a blanket but discovered a sheet neatly folded under my feet. Relieved, I pulled it up. Exhausted I had just fallen asleep when the kneeling nurse came in. I’ll call her Jan; I’ve changed the names to protect the fact that I am lousy with names.

“Here’s some water,” she said cheerfully. I’ll be back in a bit to get you checked in.” That was about midnight. I took a sip and dozed off.

“Excuse me?” a voice broke through my sleep. Opening one eye, I saw a technician standing next to me. He was a pleasant man we’ll call Vlad. “I need to draw some blood, do you care which arm?” He went about his business. When he left, I drifted back to sleep. That was 1:30 am.

“Excuse me, Mr. Dahl,” Jan had returned. “Sorry I’ve been so long, we’ve been busy. I have some papers for you to sign if that’s alright?”

“Yes.”

“One is to allow us to resuscitate you; I assume you want us to do that?”

I remember thinking, “Yes, that’s why I’m here.” However, I was nice and just signed the form. For the life of me, I cannot remember what the second form was for. For all I know I agreed to purchase her daughter’s Girl Scout Cookies.

“Mr. Dahl.” It was Jan again. “Your blood test showed an increase, so Burl Ives wants me to give you some medicine.” Well, it wasn’t Burl Ives, it was the Doctor, but I’m bad with names, and I like Burl Ives.
“Okay,” I replied, pleased she didn’t have more cookies to sell. I swallowed the pill, and then a wasp stung my stomach. I winced.

 

“Sorry, that shot stings.” Jan took my vitals, and I drifted back to sleep. That was about 3:00 am.

“Mr. Dahl.” It was Vlad again. Seems he was thirsty and needed more blood. I gave him my arm. He made his withdrawal, and I drifted back to sleep. That was about 4:00 am.

“Mr. Dahl.” It was a custodian. “I need to clean the room.” She glanced into the bathroom. “Do you have any trash?”
“I’ve only been here since 10:30,” I replied. “I think the room is okay.”

“If you say so, I’ll be back later.” I rubbed my eyes and drifted back to sleep. That was about 5:30 am.

“Mr. Dahl, excuse me.” It was Jan again. “I’m going off duty now. This is April, she will take over.” Jan went on to explain that two of my tests were elevated. “You’ll probably be moved to Evansville or Jasper.” I nodded and drifted back to sleep. That was about 7:00 am.

Somewhere in there, Vlad’s cohort returned and siphoned more blood. I remember wondering if I had any left. Nurses came and went taking vitals, and I drifted back to sleep. That was about 8:00 am.

About 9:00 my support crew arrived. Elain, Nick, Katie, Erin, and of course the grandkids – Dane brought me two of his books to read, Caroline handed me her stuffed fox, and Denali gave me her Anna Doll. Little things mean so much that I was feeling much better.

Nick consulted with Burl Ives about my case -Due to elevated blood levels of whatever it was, I probably had a heart attack. The two doctors agreed to get me to a Cath lab as soon as possible, perhaps yet that day.
Then came a moment of clarity – A moment I will long remember. Katie gathered everyone around my bed to pray. The sight of those small eyes watching me, placing their hands on me asking God to intervene, brought tears to my eyes. At that moment, I knew I’d be OK.

April returned to tell us that an ambulance would arrive in ten minutes. They were to transport me to a room in the Jasper hospital, where I would have an angioplasty, and perhaps stents. My support crew left to make their way to Jasper. That was about 10:30.

I waited, and I waited. Ten minutes passed, then twenty. A new nurse came in to tell me that the cardiologist wanted the ambulance to take me straight to the Jasper ER and then to the Cath lab. Seems he wanted to do the procedure immediately.

When the ambulance arrived, I again fell down the rabbit hole. The EMT’s, I’ll call them Joe and Sue, were excellent. They bundled me onto their gurney and wheeled me faster and faster, twisting and turning through the deserted halls of the hospital.

“Have you ridden in an ambulance before?” Joe laughed as we careened down the hall. “It rides like a log truck.”

In moments I was loaded, and the ambulance screamed away. Sue rode in the back, filling out paperwork. My oxygen tank (Burl Ives insisted that I be on oxygen for the transport) nestled between my feet.

“We’ll be there in 35 minutes,” Sue explained. “Just relax.”

Wham – With a terrible bump, we crossed the railroad tracks. The oxygen tank bounced off the gurney and crashed to the floor.

“That can’t be good,” I said, thinking about all the safety meetings I’d attended.

Sue worked her way back to my feet and retrieved the tank. After a quick inspection, she smiled, “That happens.”

The ambulance continued to scream south. With each turn I clung to the gurney, sure I’d be thrown off at any moment. Joe was right; it rode like a log truck.

As we neared the hospital, Joe asked Sue if she had the phone number. “We tried to get remote openers for their door, but they wouldn’t give us one,” she explained. She did not have the phone number, so they used their loud speaker. “Ambulance service, please open your ER doors.”

The doors opened, and I was quickly unloaded. Joe steered the gurney straight through the ER and into the hospital. We stopped at an elevator. “I think the lab is on the 6th floor,” he laughed. “If not, it’s on the 5th floor.”

Waiting on the 6th floor were several nurses, each garbed in surgical scrubs and caps. For all the world, they looked like the dancing mushrooms from “Fantasia.” They gathered around as we approached, one asked questions, and the other quickly explained the procedure. Joe and Sue pushed me into the lab, which was nicely decorated, and packed with electronic devices.

They transferred me to a large table in the middle of the room,  and one of the mushrooms covered me with a warm blanket – a sweet treat after the freezing ambulance. A second mushroom worked on my right arm, starting an IV. In the process, she twisted it behind my back in a chicken wing. A third mushroom pulled on my left arm, stretching it flat. She secured it to the table, taking care to support it with towels. I was in some kind of wrestling arm lock. Then I dozed off.

I awoke once with a vision floating in front of me, not unlike the wizard’s head in the Wizard of Oz. Blinking away the cobwebs I realized it was a picture of a heart, mostly translucent, and then suddenly a dark lightning bolt flashed across the heart leaving a gap near the bottom.

“You have two blockages, but we can fix you up,” a pleasant, confident voice advised, and I dozed off again.
Suddenly crushing pain in my left wrist woke me, it seemed to be caught in a vice. Glancing toward my arm, I saw a man standing by a console, the air was filled with soothing music. “Why is that man playing the organ?” I asked myself.

“16, 17, 18” the man counted as he played, and then I was again asleep.

I awoke in a new room, where a smiling mushroom told me that the Dr. had installed two stents. Shortly, my support crew arrived all smiles. Elain, Nick, and Erin were as glad to see me, as I was to see them.

As for the organ player, Nick said they gave me some good drugs.
I don’t know about that, it all seemed real.
I wonder if the Girl Scout Cookies are on my new diet?

_____
David L Dahl.
Thanks to all the employees and staff of both Daviess Community and Jasper Memorial Hospitals. My treatment was professional and caring.
I especially want to thank the dancing mushrooms and the organ player – Dr. Lehmkuhler and his team, for providing such rapid and professional medical care.
Lastly, I want to thank my support crew, Elain, Nick, Erin, Katie, Dane, Caroline, Denali, and Big Baby, for their love, prayers and support.

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