The ICU & Me: A Series of Unfortunate Events

Previously on "Baby & Me: Our Story"...
I was admitted to the hospital with pre-eclampsia for a supposedly 6-hour stay that ended up extending into days and resulted in the delivery of my baby several weeks early by emergency C-section. Part I of our story concluded with his birth, which was one of those indescribable moments that I cannot possibly begin to describe! I can say that thinking back on it still fills me with wonder and intense joy. Now we continue...

The Black Belt and Baby went up to the NICU once my surgery was finished, and I was taken to the ICU. We had always planned on me going there for a day, no matter how my surgery went, just so I could be monitored closely in case any complications arose with my lungs. I remember that my mom and sister-in-law were in the hall waving as I was wheeled past like a very sick parade float. I also remember that my mom took pictures of me and The Black Belt, and I thought, "Oh, these pictures are going to be just awesome..." (And they are!) While I lay there in bed, my mom and The Black Belt told me about Baby and what he looked like and how he had grabbed The Black Belt's finger when he offered it. I wanted to hear every detail and listened hungrily as they told me about the baby. MY baby. Amazing.

At this point, I don't remember much else about that day, although sometimes when people tell me things, it brings them back to my memory. So maybe I'll remember more later. I think they gave me a sedative to help with pain, and it knocked me out. My parents (because my dad also arrived at some point) took The Black Belt to dinner that night and then dropped him at our house to sleep, because the nurses assured everyone that I'd be out the rest of the night, so this was a good time for everyone else to rest too.

Have you noticed in this story that every time we were told to plan on something, the plan always turned out differently? Well, at 1:30 in the morning, The Black Belt got a call from the hospital saying he should get down there because his wife was "anxious." Here's what I remember: I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like I was losing my mind. I knew who I was and where I was, but I could not get my brain to work the way I wanted it to. I couldn't MAKE myself think the thoughts I wanted to think. You see, I couldn't remember for sure if I had had my baby or not, and I couldn't make my brain work to recall properly. This was terrifying. In one sense, I knew I'd had him, but I couldn't make my brain know that, and I felt like if I couldn't do that, I was going to lose my baby. Even now, I can't think about this part of the experience without crying. It was absolutely terrifying. I heard the nurses say that someone should call my husband, and I didn't want them to, because there wasn't anything he could do, and I knew he'd just be scared if he saw me like this, but the next thing I knew, he was there talking to me. I wanted to tell him what was happening to me, but instead I said something about Kroger and HEB. And I said, "Why am I talking about this? It doesn't make sense." But I couldn't make myself make sense.

I don't know what happened after that. The Black Belt said that when I was saying these things to him, I was breathing pretty hard and taking gasping breaths, so not surprisingly, my next memory is of the nurses putting a big, heavy, CPAP mask on me. This kind of mask blows air quite forcefully back into you, which ironically is a very suffocating feeling. So again, I was terrified. I didn't know why they were doing it, because I wasn't aware that I was having breathing problems. In reality, I was having very serious breathing problems, and it was critical that they do something fast. But I didn't know that. So I kept trying to take the mask off to ask them why I needed it and why I couldn't just keep my regular nasal canula on. I think it was then that The Black Belt was also there, telling me I needed to wear it, and I had a bit of an "et tu, Brute?" feeling. But I was still glad he was there.

Black Belt here: I will be interjecting periodically with my perspective on things. That night was a rough night for both of us. Miss Berrie's parents had dropped me off at our house after taking me to dinner, the plan being that they would pick me up to go back the next morning. So my car was at the hospital, meaning I didn't have it when the hospital called. Fortunately we live really close to the hospital, so walking isn't a big deal, but it still wasn't great walking there at 1:30 in the morning. When I got to the ICU things were pretty much as Miss Berrie described, which was terrifying from my standpoint. They had a bed for me, but they may as well not have because the nurse came in about every 15 minutes to poke Miss Berrie. They kept taking arterial blood to check her CO2 levels and such, and that's normally a pretty painful experience. So when Miss Berrie didn't even flinch at having a big needle jabbed into her wrist, even though she was not at all sedated, that just confirmed that there was a big problem. They finally put the mask on her, probably about 4:00 in the morning, and I felt like the worst husband in the world making her keep it on, knowing perfectly well that she hated it. Which leads back into what she was saying...

I did not like that mask. Not one bit. It was very tight and very heavy, and my face still has bruises from it. And it was hard to communicate because I couldn't take it off to say something, and I don't think people could hear me underneathe it. So when one of the tubes came unplugged, and I frantically tried to gesture that I could no longer breathe, they thought I was just trying to complain again about being uncomfortable and said things like, "It's okay, you're okay, leave it on..." Finally the respiratory therapist noticed the tube and plugged it back it. In case you were wondering, I did not receive an apology! I've been told that I was in critical condition at this point. My oxygen levels would drop dramatically if the mask came off at all, and even with it on, it wasn't enough.

Black Belt again: She's not kidding when she says her oxygen would drop dramatically. Or about the fact that the nurses weren't always as aware of her needs as they should have been. At one point she indicated that she was about to... shall we say..."un-eat," so they took the mask off. I watched over about the next 5 seconds as her oxygen dropped from 100% to 90% to 80% to 70% (it's typically considered bad if your oxygen drops below 90%, at least for long periods of time). I said, "Can you get her oxygen some other way while she's doing that?" and one of the nurses looked up at the monitor as her oxygen dropped to 60%. She said "Um... um..." and quickly ran out of the room to find some tubing for a nasal canula. By the time Miss Berrie was at 40% and I was having a heart attack, they finally got the canula on her. Why they didn't have some sort of back-up system in place for a patient who had just had surgery and was in respiratory distress, I can't imagine, but I'm glad I was there. Back to her now.

Even then, I was completely unaware that I was in trouble. Sunday morning, my parents came into my room, and my dad said, "[Miss Berrie,] it's Dad." I thought, "I know it's Dad. Why would he think I don't know it's him? And why does he sound so anxious?" I don't remember much else from that day either. But I know the mask wasn't enough to keep me safe, because they had to intubate me. My mom describes coming into the ICU and seeing "a lot of hubub" and knowing that it wasn't a good sign. I just remember waking up with the tubes down my throat and two nurses telling me not to try to talk.

Black Belt: This should be my final interjection. I think this was the low point for me. After putting the tubes in, they sedated Miss Berrie. They assured me she would sleep through the night (I'd heard that one before) and that I should get some rest. I was pretty much a wreck, so I took their advice. Her mom took me home, and we had dinner. After dinner I kind of let it all out. I don't know if I can remember the last time I really cried, but that night I sure did. I don't know when the last time was that I prayed that hard either. I'll just add that I was and am very thankful to so much support from friends and family at that point. That week was such a rollercoaster of emotions, from the happiest I'd ever been to the most terrified within a matter of days. Okay, I'll let Miss Berrie finish it off now.

You'd think having tubes down your throat would be just about the worst thing ever. But no. The worst thing ever is that when you have tubes down your throat (at least, if you have my doctor), they tie your hands down so you don't try to pull the tubes out yourself. So, for instance, when you wake up and one of your eyes is completely dried shut and you desperately need eye drops, you have no way of communicating this to anyone. I know this from personal experience. I kept trying to raise my hands to point to my eye, but they just thought I was freaking out about being restrained and having tubes down my throat. I can see why they might have thought that, but my eye was of bigger concern to me at that point than my throat. Then, being the genius that I am, I realized I could finger-spell "eyedrops" in ASL even though my hands were tied down. Finally, they noticed what I was trying. The first nurse said, "I don't know sign. Do you?" The other said, "No, I don't." Annnnnnnd that was the entirety of their effort. *sigh*

I don't know how long things went on like this, but this was definitely a low point. At some point, though, someone thought to get me a clipboard with paper and a pencil so I could communicate through writing. I couldn't see very well (I never did get those eyedrops!!), so I was constantly in fear that even with these tools, people weren't going to be able to read my handwriting and just give up on trying to understand me like the nurses had that night. Sometimes people couldn't read what I'd written, but thankfully, they would just ask again what I wanted, and I'd try again. I think if I hadn't been able to write, I would've just gone crazy. There I was with tubes down my throat, so I couldn't move my head very much; my hands were tied to the bed rail; and my legs were hooked up to an anti-bloodclot machine, so I couldn't really move them either. I probably don't need to say this, but it was very uncomfortable, and very scary.  Sometimes they needed to "suction" my lungs to clear them out while the tubes were in. All I could tell was happening was that I was being suffocated. So I was tied down in a bed, gagged, and being suffocated. Not to overstate things, but have I mentioned that this was terrifying?

But being able to write gave me one little outlet that kept me held together. (My mom and The Black Belt being there the whole time was another.) I remember writing to one of the nurses, "Were you one of the ones torturing me last night?" and I smiled at her to let her know I was just teasing. She said, "No, that was Nicky." I wrote, "I don't like Nicky." (I'm so funny.) The Black Belt and my mom were relieved to see that I was still my usual self, despite everything I was going through. There were times where I felt very low, however. I remember writing to my mom, "This is the worst day." That was Monday, when they had stopped giving me any kind of sedative, which, they told me, meant that I was, "really going to feel it," with "it" being the fact that I had tubes down my throat. (I also had a feeding tube down my nose, which I didn't even know about until, like, two days ago when The Black Belt told me.) It was quite painful. And, not being able to swallow meant that I was very drooly, so they gave me one of those suction things like the dental hygienists use. I basically had to just leave it in my mouth the entire day. It was just. Really. Awful.

They told me Monday night that I might be able to get the tubes out the next morning, so I just had to make it through the night. I think I prayed the entire night for help getting through till morning. On Tuesday morning, this creepy resident who was working with my pulmonologist came in and said he thought I'd get my tubes out the next day. I wanted to throw him out of my room, but I couldn't talk! It's good that he left on his own, because The Black Belt was probably having similar thoughts. But then my nurse came in and reassured us that my real doctor had said that I WAS getting my tubes out that morning. I was so, so grateful!

The process of extubation is, in a word, awful. In two words, completely awful. They had to do it really fast because they had to get me back onto some kind of oxygen once the tubes were out, so they just said, "1, 2, 3!" and started pulling the tape off my face and out of my hair while someone else pulled the tubes out of my throat (and nose). They had my mom and The Black Belt step out, and I'm glad they did, but that didn't shield them from the noise I made, which was kind of like a cross between a giant cat vomiting a hairball and the mating call of a walrus. It was bad enough that even during that awful process, I still had it in me to be a teensy weensy bit embarrassed.

But the tubes were out!! I actually don't remember what they did to me immediately following extubation, but I know that my mom and The Black Belt got to come in and give me ice chips. I love ice chips. Those ice chips were the most wonderful ice chips ever in the history of ice chips. My throat hurt like the dickens, so I could only swallow teensy amounts, but I refused to go slowly. Shortly after that, they brought me some juice to sip. I thought it was the best day ever. But then my nurse came in and said, "I've ordered you a regular dinner for tonight....and I'm going to take you to see your baby."

This is another point in the story that I can't recall without tears. I was going to see my baby! MY baby! It was such a strange feeling. I was almost scared, because there aren't a lot of times in life where we actually get something we want SO badly! We had to wait for my doctor's final approval (he was worried about me taking ICU germs up to the NICU), but my nurse was my champion and worked it out. Then they had to get me into a wheelchair, which I won't even go into because I can't explain what that felt like to my poor, weakened body. But they finally did it, and I was on my way.

Remember that this whole time, I'd been pretty unaware of how sick I was. But apparently, I was big news around the hospital, because just about everyone we saw in the hallways said, "It's so good to see you!!!" I felt like Harry Potter walking into The Leaky Cauldron with Hagrid. It was unreal. The food service girl hugged me!! I think that was when I started to appreciate the trouble I'd been in, since that many people knew my story and were that relieved to see me. Anyway, it took a little while to get to the 3rd floor because of ...my celebrity, I guess?.... When we got up there, and I saw the NICU doors, I burst into tears. I couldn't believe there was a baby in there that was really mine.

They got me washed up and even let The Black Belt AND my mom come with me for this momentous event. I think people were talking to me as we entered Baby's room, but I wasn't listening. I was just trying to get my first glance. And then they opened the incubator doors, and there he was. He was under the blue lights and hooked up to all kinds of stuff, breathing hard and fast. But he was beautiful. They let me reach in, and I touched him for the first time. And I cried. It was my baby.

In the end, I was in the hospital for a total of 16 days, after being released from the ICU after 4 1/2 days and spending a few more days back up in antepartum. It was quite an ordeal, to say the least, and it isn't over, as Baby is still in the NICU. But if that's all it takes to be the mother of this precious little guy with The Black Belt at my side, then I say it was worth it. I am a very blessed girl.