Yep. That's a thing, apparently. Warning: this is gross but interesting. 3 weeks ago, I headed to work after the Memorial Day weekend and stopped in our cafeteria to grab some breakfast before I went to my desk. I had the breakfast of champions (scrambled eggs, bacon and Diet Coke, obvi) but at one point during breakfast I felt a tearing pain in my chest where I honestly thought I was having a heart attack. I couldn't swallow (it felt like something was stuck in my throat), I couldn't breathe, and the pain was shooting. I stood up and tried taking some deep breaths and paced for a minute but it wasn't helping. I ran to the garbage can as I thought I might vomit, but nothing came up. Panic. Majorly. I grabbed my stuff and found a bathroom barely in time to throw up...blood. I still felt like something was stuck in my throat and couldn't talk, felt I could function and just needed to concentrate on something to prevent myself from panicking more. So, I drove myself the 12 minutes to the ER. (And in hindsight, there were 2 ERs closer, but you don't think of things like that when you are worried you're dying.) Got to the ER, puked more blood. Luckily the ER was empty and I was taken back right away. They hooked me up to an IV, boyfriend arrived and I went through 45 minute cycles of not being able to breathe without being blended over then finally my stomach would shove everything back out of me in the form of more puked blood. Come to find out, my esophagus tore at some point which can happen if something cuts it (guessing that's not what it was because, scrambled eggs), you push too hard when you poop (not kidding), infections, swallowing a foreign object, etc. I have no idea what caused it to tear, but I guess people don't know what causes an appendix to erupt either. In addition, I was having an allergic reaction to the IV they gave me (Lactated Ringers = saline + electrolytes). At one point they disconnected me so I would be able to attempt an esophogram and suddenly I could breathe. I could sit up straight. I wasn't doubled over in pain. They hooked me back up and it started again. The ER doctor and nurse didn't believe me (cause that's a weird fucking thing to have a reaction to!) but luckily boyfriend was an Army Medic and asked them to switch the IV to a specific other kind and that somehow made sense to them. (Anesthesiologists and surgeons later confirmed it is rare but not unheard of) I was taken into emergency surgery when they found a small leak where the sphincter connects my esophagus to my stomach. The surgery was 6 hours or so and they cut open my left shoulder (as boyfriend says "they filet-ed you!"), pulled my ribs apart, deflated my left lung, cleaned out my chest cavity, and moved some muscle from between my ribs to patch my esophagus. They scoped my throat "3 or 4 times" because they couldn't find the exact spot of the leak, then realized scoping was about to damage me more. They stopped doing that, re inflated my lung, placed 3 chest tubes, and stitched me back up. Major, major surgery. For 6 days I couldn't eat. I had an epidural for over a week that blocked the pain from the surgical site. (I literally felt nothing from it. Epidurals are a magical thing that I want to be the poster child for.) The surgical team had set 2 IV points, but - fun fact - those are only supposed to be used for about 3 days before you have to pick a different vein. My veins don't like needles, so at one point after the epidural was removed, there was a 4 hour window where I received NO pain medicine because they couldn't find a vein. (This is a world-renowned hospital, not some mom-and-pop shop. My veins are assholes.) Chest tubes being removed is the strangest feeling ever. 9 days in a recovery room is too many. Jello only tastes good when you haven't eaten in 6 days. My dad, boyfriend, mom and sister are saints. Empathy is not part of a nurse's job description but the good ones are full of it. Recovering at home for 10 days is boring. But I'm alive.
