Email from papa shumway

Just a note to explain my unexpected absence last week and some gained insight on the fragility and value of life/health. Many of you know that I underwent surgery for prostate cancer 6 weeks ago that looks to have been successful. All was well except for some tenderness in my lower abdominal area that I attributed to artifacts of surgery. Last Wednesday I awoke with a little more tenderness than normal but put it aside as overexertion and proceeded to work. After about 1 1/2 hr the pain increased significantly and proceeded around to my kidney area, then I was set upon by severe chills and shaking resulting from a fast rising fever. I headed home to get a temperature reading but found I was shaking so violently I couldn't hold the thermometer so I called the doctor who had performed my surgery and he directed me to the emergency room. My wife dropped me off at the ER door then went to park. By this time I was shaking so bad I could hardly walk. After explaining my dilemma and concern for the violent and fast acting nature of the problem to the receptionist I was cooly handed a paper and told to fill it out. My condition was so bad I couldn't write so I sat huddled and shaking until my wife could return and do it for me. I was then told to give the paper with to the Triage person (a young fellow that was supposed to be sitting at a table with a stethoscope but wasn't.) After what seemed a long wait, he appeared through the door flirting with one of the other workers. He dutifully took my vitals which included 103 degree temperature and asked me to take a seat with the others and I would be called as soon as possible. I asked if I could get some blankets as I was shivering so violently and perhaps a corner to lay down as I felt so miserable. The former were provided; the later, I was told, was unavailable and I could sit with the rest of the patients whom all eyed me suspiciously as I shivered in the corner. Two hours in this condition drove me to call my surgeon's office and see if they couldn't itervene but was told the ER's do not appreciate external manipulation so I resigned myself to either waiting until called, the question of whether it would be St. Peter or the Doctor was open for debate and, by the end, somewhat immaterial to me. After 4 hours waiting my name was finally called and I shuffeled through "the door". On the other side, part of the reason for the long delays was apparent as the halls were lined with ambulance gurneys loaded with the daily quota from the city which at the time appeared to be muscle strains, headaches, shortness of breathe, diabetes related issues, and loneliness. The doctors immediately realized the seriousness of my situation and started IV's and close vital sign monitoring. Recognizing an infection, but not knowing what it was, they started me on massive loads of antibiotics while tests were run for better identification. With close monitoring (still on a gurney in the hallway) they noted that my blood pressure suddenly dropped to a systolic high of 75 and they got more concerned. The infection, which ended up being a form of strep, had somehow entered my bloodstream and become what they call septic. They desperately tried to add IV's but were unable as the BP was so low. Finally the BP dropped to 66 and my system started shutting down. They got it stabilized somewhat and wheeled me into an actual room then it dropped to 57 over 38 and my systems went critical. A team of two excellent doctors and 6 nurses worked furiously to keep me alive. All I can remember is them asking me to swallow as they fought to force a tube into my stomach, extreme pain and helplessness as I felt my last few minutes may very well be before me, and a little nurse holding my hand as my wife was asked to leave to spare her the torture of the ordeal. They inserted an emergency pic line in my jugular which they used to feed 3 simultaneous IV's and finally the announcement from one doctor, it's coming back up. That was followed by 2 days in the ICU and 6 in a regular hospital room with close monitoring and care. A CT scan indicated fluid build-up in the surgery area so they inserted a drain to help the antibiotics do their work. They finally let me come home yesterday, weak, sore all over, feeling like I have been run over by a steam roller, but greatful to have a few more days to enjoy my family and friends, the blessing of life and hopefully be a little productive. There was a front page article in our Tucson paper last week about a 38 year old man that came to a different ER room in Tucson with what looked like my same problem, and he didn't survive. There is no doubt my outcome would have been different had the shut-down taken place at any other time. The moral of the story - don't get sick in Tucson. I had a long discussion with one of the hospital administrators on my experience (he sought me out) and hopefully some changes can be implemented in the triage protocol. More importantly, enjoy each day and don't take for granted that which is most important in your life. All five of my adult children flew out to be with me the day following the incident. I give full credit to God's tender mercy in pulling me through this ordeal. My prognosis is good. I still have an IV pic (moved from my jugular to my arm) and they have scheduled home health care nurses for daily intrevenous antibiotic injections for the next 14 days. I'm guessing my body is so pumped with antibiotics that germs with any sense will stear clear for a while.