Tiger stripes, bagging and a ventilator named Jen

I was just given an emergency tracheotomy and it was no fun. Though they started giving me my drug of choice, Versaid. I love this drug and if I wasn't a good member of the church, I'd worry that my addiction to it in the hospital would have continued. Versaid makes you forget all of the pain.


I was on one ventilator after another. They kept breaking and weren't doing that great of a job for me anyway. I don't remember any of this because I was in a coma. It shouldn't have been possible, but I got worse. This time, I actually died. We obtained all of my medical records after the fact. It actually recorded that I was resuscitated 22 times in one day. I wish we would have counted how many times I was resuscitated total...that number would have been cool. The being revived 22 times in one day really stood out to me not only because I think I remember this day, but because I had 22 chest tubes put in as well. Chest tubes are long, semi hard tubes, inserted between ribs into your chest which drains blood, air and fluid and allows your lungs to fully expand. They are painful. I had a few put in and taken out after I was awake from my coma. Ouch!


On a side note: My family teases me when I wake up in the morning because I have lines on my cheeks where my oxygen canula was squished to my face while I sleep. They call them my tiger stripes. Little do they know though because I have scars that resemble stripes under my arms from the chest tubes. :)


Moving on...I am sorry I am draggin this out so much. I just have little stories that I have never recorded in my journal and eventually I'd like to print out my whole blog as a journal. Anyway, one particular day during the hardest of times, OHSU went on strike. Nurses and Doctors were scarce during this time. The nurses who had stayed worked extra hard and long to cover everyone's shifts. My ventilator ended up breaking and a new one was being shipped in from Florida. My mom stepped in and ended up bagging me the whole day. Bagging is hard to explain. It is this plastic bubble type thing that was placed over my trach and she would manually squeeze it to help me breath. It was a tedious task and she rarely had breaks. She did this for nearly 24 hours until the strike was settled and finally new nurses were able to relieve her. My mom is AWESOME!


The doctors had a meeting with my parents and basically told them that I couldn't continue on like this, that I had "backed myself into a corner and that I wasn't coming out". Weird analogy, but it was true. They asked my parents permission if they could assign the school to my case. My family was desperate and agreed. OHSU (Oregon Health and Science University) was assigned to me. If you've ever seen House (the television show), I imagine it was a lot like this. Everything that students suggested had been done and didn't work. Finally, a physical therapist of all people, came up with the inovative idea of putting me on an Infant Oscillating Machine. It is basically a ventilator made for pre-mature babies that weighed 8 lbs or less. It is a "violent" machine. It punches air into your lungs 3 times and then pulls the air out. This machine basically would do the breathing for me. My parents had a huge decision to make. This was our last option, so they basically had to agree to do it. But, this machine had never been used on anyone weighing more than 8-10 pounds and since it was so violent that it shook the bed, they were nervous it would damage my spinal cord even more. They fitted and placed a halo on before they hooked me up to the Oscillating Marchine. The halo is basically a hard steal halo type contraption that surrounded my head and was held on with 4 screws that were screwed into my skull. This halo was attached to steal rods that are attached to a wool and plastic vest. It was sturdy, itchy and heavy...my neck wasn't moving in that thing!


The Infant Oscillating Machine (which was later named "Jen") worked and was the "physical" reason I lived. We all know that through much fasting and prayer from family, friends and even my home ward is the true reason I survived. It was the simple faith of people like Jodie Huntsman who was only 8 years old and fasted her first fast for me, people like my mom, dad and my sister who stayed by my side the whole 3 months in the hospital and 1 1/2 years of recovery, people like nurses and doctors that share the same religion as us volunteering to help with priesthood blessings, people like my brother that chose to continue to serve Him so that He would bless me, in the end, Heavenly Father knew that I still had a purpose to fulfill here on earth and he blessed me through others. My life had been saved. After all the obstacles that were placed before me, every possible option to take my life away had failed. I was alive and I have a purpose to fulfill here on earth.

More to come soon...