The Backside of Spring Break, Part Two

(If you missed part one, you can find it here).

I almost popped out of my calm state when Scott the ambulance driver pulled the gurney out into seeming thin air, but I didn't, and he lowered it on some platform to the ground.  Lane Regional Medical Center in Zachary, Louisiana was ready for me, and I was in great spirits.  I was on an oxygen high which left me feeling downright sharp as one person after another came by to ask me the same questions I'd been answering for awhile.  The EMTs knew the staff and I was quickly introduced to the doctor.  I'm a perennial doctor critic, but this one felt reasonable and open to whatever my strange case would bring.  I, however, wasn't so open to the idea of a CT scan and I told him so.  He looked a little surprised and told me he himself was concerned about having one on himself.  Neal wanted every test known to doctors or veterinarians done on me; after all, she was pretty sure I had died on that plane.

After my initial blacking-out on the plane, my blood pressure was at least 20 points low and they started me on an IV with saline solution in the ambulance.  I didn't know you could check blood pressure by pressing a fingernail and seeing how quickly the blood returns.  I now held the IV bag as I slid off the gurney and onto the table, vaguely pondering how nice it was to get up and do something under my own power.  As soon as they got me on the monitor, my pressure was now fine and my pulse rate was between 70 and 80, which is a little high for me.  A blood-sugar test followed and then a vial of blood for a complete workup, which resulted in orders to eat supper because my blood sugar was low.  James wheeled me off to x-ray for a picture of my chest and I made a strong effort to enjoy the ride and crack silly comments.  I had gleaned that I was patient 20 and I asked him to verify this.  He gave me a funny rant about not being allowed to use my name because of privacy requirements that the government had cooked up to keep people from knowing we are sick.  I was enjoying this rare chance to display my ill health even as I was running through the whole scenario over and over to put my own spin on how it all went down.  My power was limited by the trauma that Neal had passed through and her determination to see some answers, but you may be beginning to realize why doctors don't routinely give patients oxygen before the diagnosis.  I was memorizing names of everyone I'd had contact with so I could use them a lot and so I could write a great thank-you letter when we got home.

"Well, the tests are in and you are a very healthy guy."  I was not surprised, and laid out my theory of the perfect storm of food poisoning, anxiety attack and low blood sugar and Dr. Godbee seemed to think this possible.  "I did find just one thing, though.  Has anyone ever told you you have a thyroid condition?"  He broke into a slight grin as if relieved to have found something, but I was startled.  He told me about TSH and how it was so low as to be almost off the chart, how that indicates an overactive thyroid that's working too hard.  I knew more than a little about this and that it wasn't an emergency.

"So that leaves just one thing," pause.  I knew I'd be going back down the hall with James, despite knowing that a CT scan delivers a typical radiation dose of 15 millisieverts and most tests involve 2 or 3 scans, hundreds of times the radiation of a single x-ray and equivalent to Japanese atomic bomb survivors received.  I told James I could give him directions if he needed them, but he actually took me to a different room.  "When the ride stops moving, you'll be back from Disneyland."  I smiled and while it hummed, I prayed for calm and for my body to not suffer any damage.

"You can't have results already!"

"Yes, I do!  That was the fastest CT scan I've ever seen at this hospital.  When the doctor called I told him that I didn't even think you'd gone yet."  His smile gathered us all in.  "This won't surprise you, but the scan shows you have sinusitis."  I'm sure I gave him an eye roll for that, and then he was telling me I was the most interesting patient he'd had that day.  "I'm not much on doctors, Dan, but you're a really good doctor and you've made this a very pleasant experience.  Thank you so much for all your warmth and expertise!"

The staff was still helping us call the airlines and call a cab.  They printed out hotel information and one nurse offered us a ride back to Baton Rouge in his pickup; we would later wish we had accepted, when the cab took an hour and a half to arrive.  The moment of standing in front of the whole group, after they had finally removed all the wiring from me, is still clear in my mind, those smiles distilling all the warmth of that city into me.

How could I not feel the sweetness of life after this event and all the amazing kindness directed toward me?  I was still struggling to figure out how close I had been to the end of my life, but with each passing hour, I felt the gravity a bit more.  As I looked better, Neal Ann looked worse because she began to let down her guard and it was hard for her not to cry.  But I happily talked politics with the cab driver all the way back to the hotel.  I sensed that he was probably a refugee from New Orleans and I thought about all the blessings in my life, even though I had single-handedly brought down an airliner just hours ago.  I was still hoping it was only bad yogurt, but this life is far too full of mysterious and complex purpose for me to be so certain.