The Backside of Spring Break

The Backside of Spring Break

I caused a medical emergency at 36,000 ft., on American Eagle flight 3860, by passing out.  We were returning from a spring break in Florida where we'd gone to visit our kids, and my wife thought I had died because I went rigid and had something that either was or resembled a seizure.  I woke up a minute or two into the ordeal, to ice on my head and neck and a determined group working to get the oxygen bottle flowing for me.

I had come down with a cold almost as soon as we arrived five days before and had struggled with it all weekend, eating lightly and feeling weak.  I had a craving for yogurt this day and had eaten four in different flavors.  I would later recall that the last had a different texture and look, and about two hours later, I was on the plane suffering severe abdominal pain.  As it got worse I massaged my belly and pondered what I could do.  Should I get up and walk to the bathroom?  I felt my anxiety rising through ten minutes, and then nausea hit me hard.  I just had time to turn to my wife and tell her I was having trouble with my guts and that I was going to pass out.  "Should I call the stewardess?"  I think I told her yes before I blacked out.

I was completely lucid but dazed when I woke up, if that combination is possible.  I noticed that something in me had completely surrendered to the attention.  A woman behind me was a dentist brave enough to help and I could feel the concern of everyone around me.  I was hot but I wanted to tell them I was okay; I let it go to be a good patient and not fight the oxygen, which I soon noticed had stopped my runny nose-one good thing in all this at least. 

The captain came on to announce we'd be landing in about 10 minutes but I don't remember who said we were diverting to Baton Rouge.  I was alarmed by this and took off the mask to say I didn't want this, but the flight attendant told me firmly that it was already done and not to worry.  The peacefulness took over again and we were shortly on the ground, where a policeman came on board to check my pulse, ask my name and a few other questions, the purest sort of empathy flowing out of him.  It's hard to get a wheelchair on a plane, so he helped me walk off, insisting on holding me up on the stairs.  On the way out I turned and thanked the passengers for their patience and I apologized for messing up their trip.

I told Michelle and Scott that I'd never been inside an ambulance before, much less riding in one, as they took my history, vitals and gave me an EKG, or rather two because they wanted to be sure.  They helped us decide to get our luggage off the plane and which hospital to go to.  Scott told us he'd be off work at ten and happy to drive us back to the airport.  We appreciated his gesture but Neal and I told him we could get back with a cab he told us would be less than $20.  I told them I'd always wanted to try an oxygen treatment and I was amazed at how it seemed to have beaten back my cold; I told them that I firmly believed that everything happens for a reason.  The challenge was just to figure out why sometimes. 

The airport policeman gave Neal his card and told her to call if he could help us in any way.  From this sudden perspective on my backside, I was glowing from the deep kindness of these people who had come into my life and I was sure the hospital would check me out and have us back before the last flight out that night.