Last week what started as a small cough resulted in full-blown pneumonia, a trip to the ER, loss of consciousness, an ambulance ride, and the first hospital stay of my adult life.
Throughout Wednesday, I struggled somewhat but noticed incremental improvements. By mid-afternoon my fever had reduced, my breathing while on oxygen had improved slightly, and I could even find a somewhat comfortable position to sit - things were looking up!
Over the course of an hour that all came crashing down, my temperature spiked significantly, the oxygen I was on had to be doubled, and I had begun a non-stop coughing session that was leaving me unable to catch my breath.
As this progressed, my nurse, Kristine, was constantly vigilant, checking on me frequently and adjusting my care as needed. Unfortunately, my fever refused to relent, and at one point the coughing became so uncontrollable that I felt like I was drowning. As an otherwise healthy, 35-year-old father of two, I am not ashamed to say that I was truly afraid.
Throughout this time, Kristine consulted with my doctor and attempted different treatments, only to fail to see expected improvement. She was never deterred, and her confidence provided me much needed hope. At one point it was clear to her that an overall change in approach was needed, "Let me think about this for a minute, I'll be right back" she said as she left my room.
A few moments later Kristine returned, doctor in tow, along with what I assume was every single person that had assisted me since the time I was admitted 18 hours earlier, (I'm pretty sure the person that brought my food may have even been there.) Over the next few minutes I bore witness to an amazing ballet of medical professionalism, Kristine provided detailed responses to the doctor's questions and pointed out those who could provide additional information on actions taken so far. The doctor took notes and rattled off orders as all in attendance quickly took action. Although I was in awe of the well-choreographed team of medical professionals practicing their craft, my continued struggle to catch my breath once again undermined my confidence.
As the smoke cleared and the room emptied, I asked Kristine the question I had grown almost too afraid to speak, "am I going to be ok?" Her answer was a full-bodied, emphatic, "Yes" - a response that on many levels provided me with everything I needed to silence the doubt and uncertainty within me.
Throughout the night, tests were run, treatments changed, and vitals checked, Kristine was a constant presence by my side. She checked in on me frequently, always had a friendly smile and uplifting remark or joke.
My condition started to show signs of improvement and with that, I was able to get some needed rest. Early morning brought with it some further improvement, but also felt conflicted as I knew Kristine's shift had ended and she had left while I was asleep.
Thursday came and went and by Friday I was feeling substantially better. I was pleasantly surprised when, during the Friday afternoon shift change, I heard a familiar voice as Kristine walked in exclaiming "wow, I can't believe this is the same person I saw on Wednesday, you're doing so much better!" I'm sure this seems dramatic, but from my point of view, it was like seeing an old friend after many years.
Kristine reviewed my vitals and assured me she would try to talk to the doctor about discharging me. She had remembered it was my wedding anniversary and had even congratulated my wife when she spoke with her on the phone. I was discharged shortly after that, but along with my belongings and prescriptions I took with me a memory of a caregiver whom I would want watching over any of my loved ones should they ever be in need of assistance.