I Battle With Endocarditis

If you have any questions feel free to ask.

When I decided to tell my story of when I came down ill with Endocarditis my first thought was where to start.  Then I realized since I was a different person before it happened it was best to tell you about myself before it took place.

            I was very friendly, outgoing and loved to laugh and be silly.  I would do or say stupid things to get people to laugh.  For the most part I was energetic, despite having micro valve prolapse, which I was born with.

            Medically I was the person who never got sick, but when I did, whatever I caught never lasted as long as it did with others that caught the illness from.  I attribute that to not taking pharmaceutical when I got things like colds or the flu.  I would just ride them out.  I believe eventually my immune system became stronger from fighting the bug I caught without medicine.

            My only real medical issue up to that point was occasional migraines due to my micro valve prolapse, and those I even learned to control them by not get them as often, or was able to get rid of them quicker.

 

That was before… and then…

 

My first recollection of the events leading up to my heart surgery began when I was on furlough from The Department Of Food And Agriculture in August of 2013.

I got a temp job as a security guard working overnights at a guard shack for a tomato packing plant. 

My third night on the job I got a sandwich from Subway to take for lunch.  I remember eating it and having an awful taste in my mouth.  I couldn’t even finish it.  At that time I just figured I got bad tuna from the place.

I also began to feel a bit off, you know just not normal, well normal for me.  I had attributed that to my adjusting to working overnights, something I had never done before.

A couple weeks later thankfully I was called back to the CDFA.  But slowly and surly things gradually began to happen that I brushed off as not being a problem. 

I went with some friends to a Black Sabbath concert.  At the show my buddy gave me a playful tap in the side of my ribs.  It really hurt.  Also at the show I got a piece of Pizza that I couldn’t finish.  Me not finishing pizza, why that is not heard of.

As days went on I was eating less.  I didn’t have much of an appetite, and when I did the food just didn’t taste appealing.  Food that got a bit burnt especially made me sick to my stomach, actually just the smell of the burnt food did.

I recall a time in the parking lot at work.  I was having coffee waiting for the boss to arrive.  A coworker got there shortly after me so we stood and chatted while waiting.  He commented to me as to why I was shaking so badly.  It really wasn’t cold out.  I just blew it off.

Then while out in a orange tree orchard getting ready to survey it a few of the guys picked up oranges off the ground and pretended to be a baseball pitcher.  I picked an orange up to join in, when I threw it, the orange went about two feet.  Of course I figured it was cause I hadn’t thrown in a long time and my mechanics were off.  The reality of it was I was losing my strength.

There were times when I would go to put a scoop of coffee grounds into my single cup coffee maker, my hand would shake so bad the grounds went everywhere.  Of course I was just oblivious to the fact this was a problem.  What was my excuse, I didn’t really have one other than being in denial.

            I was eventually furloughed from work in November 2013, the season was over.  At that point I began spending most of my time just lying around watching television.  On occasion getting up to get on the computer.  But as time went on I spent most of it in front of the television.

            The disgusting part I hate to admit was I was only showering maybe once a week.  I also began to lose control of my bowel functions and well you can imagine what that lead to.

            As December approached I has also began to have hallucinations.   I actually thought that the reason my food was tasting bad was because there was an alternate universe in my house and the people in that universe were poisoning my food.  I also believed they were using my toilet and leaving feces in there. 

Another hallucination I remember having was that my bedroom was a safe haven; whenever I was in there nothing could harm me.  The whole thing is a bit hazy but I do remember thinking there were other people in there with me trying to stay safe.

At the time everything made sense to me.  It wasn’t till a couple months after the operation that it all came back to me and I had realized just how out of my mind I was.  I now relate my experience to the song “Brain Damage” by Pink Floyd.

Another thing I learned after it was all over was that on Christmas Eve while having dinner at my sister’s house I was apparently was talking incoherently.  Pretty much talking in scattered thought.  My sister said it freaked my brother out.

That New Years Eve was the first and only time I hadn’t stayed up to watch the ball drop.  I was in bed by ten o’clock cause I didn’t have the energy or desire for it. 

In fact by that time I was sleeping a lot.  I would basically get up in the morning, watch television for a couple hours than take a nap.  Watch more television and nap, rinse and repeat.  You get the point. 

I was so skinny that my belt didn’t even fit me when using the last hole.  Before it had started I was using only the second hole in the belt.  My dad kept getting on me to eat.  I didn’t want to but I managed to take in a bowl of cereal here and there.  Again I was still oblivious to the fact that anything was wrong.

Another thing that was happening was my vision was getting pretty bad by mid December.   I could hardly read my computer screen, see the writing on the television, and reading magazines and books was out of the question.

So then on January 10^th of 2014 I had woke up from napping for about the third time that day, when I came out of my room  my dad told me my best friend Brian was coming over after work.  I knew something was up at that point, just wasn’t sure what.

When Brian arrived I met him outside.  He straight up told me he was taking me to the hospital, the tone of his voice said he wasn’t taking no for an answer.  So at that point I just gave in and agreed to go.

I found out later that my dad tried to cash a check I had wrote him earlier that day to get his car tags renewed.  Apparently it was so illegible that the bank almost didn’t cash it.  That is when he called my sister Kim telling her about the check.  She then in turn called my friend expressing her concerns.  That led to Brian coming over and getting me to go to the hospital.

So he drove me to Doctor’s Medical Center in my town of Modesto, California.  My only concern going there was the fact that I didn’t have insurance.  I was thinking they wouldn’t even see me once I told them.

They did admit me.  So I was laid up in a room while they ran test trying to figure out what was wrong with me.  Their first though was Tuberculosis.  So then I was quarantined in a special room and had to keep a mask over my nose and mouth.  That was uncomfortable cause I was burning up and couldn’t breathe.

When they ruled out Tuberculosis I was moved to a regular room with a nice gentleman.  Don’t recall his name now.  Meanwhile the search for my illness went on.

Now this next part I don’t remember at all but was filled in by Brian on the next events.  The hospital was having trouble solving my ailment so they brought in a lady in from disease control.  From what I was told she began asking me questions.  Exactly what she was asking me I have no clue.  Anyways in the midst of talking to me she asked when did I get that infection in my mouth.  I replied “What infection?”  That is when she told the hospital to check for Endocarditis.  And has you already know from my opening paragraph, that is what it was.

What was happening was bacteria got into my blood stream and was eating one of my heart valves.  And the source of the bacteria was my teeth cause I didn’t take care of them properly, or go to the dentist when I had a cavity.

So after being diagnosed next came how were they going to treat it.  If I had gone to the doctor months earlier when the first signs appeared it could have been treated using just antibiotics.  But letting it go so long it had was running ramped in my blood stream and now eating my valves.

The first step was them have an oral surgeon go in and remove what was left of my teeth and the roots.  My first thoughts of course were how attractive will it be having no teeth, and how the hell will I eat now?  All I can remember about that was hearing Journey songs playing as they put me under.  When I woke my bite was gone.

Next came the obvious step replacing the infected valve.  The scheduled it for three days days after the oral surgery on my mouth.  By this time I was not just out of my mind by the infection and blood loss. And  now the thought of having heart surgery piled on.  In a way the fact that I was in a hazy state kept me a bit on the mellow side. Even still I was a nervous wreck, as I think anyone would be.

Then the next day I was informed they had moved it up a day, which meant the day after it was scheduled they informed me of the change.  Now I never asked or was told why they moved it up suddenly, but if I took an educated guess I would say that I was barely hanging on and it was now or never.

So the next morning I was wheeled into an operating room.  It was suppose to be about four hours.  It was the scariest moment of my life when I was being put under not knowing if it was the last time I would go to sleep.

The next thing I knew I was waking up in a hospital bed still a bit groggy from the anesthesia.  At first I hadn’t even thought about the fact I just survived heart surgery so was not rejoicing like I should have been.

I was told that the surgery ended up being over seven hours long.  It turned out two of the valves needed to be replace, not one.  Plus they found numerous sisks on my heart they removed.  I learned that my father and my best friend stayed in the waiting room and watched football as they waiting to hear news on how the operation went.

The first couple days after the surgery I obviously could do little moving around.  They needed two people to put me in a wheelchair to take me to the restroom.  One thing I hate feeling was helpless, and I never felt more helpless than I did right then.

I had always thought that rest was the best way to recover from any illness or surgery.  I never got less rest then the couple weeks that followed my surgery.  The nurses were coming in every couple hours to give me medicines or take blood.  Even woke me a couple times when the monitor detected an irregular heartbeat.  I had a hard enough time getting to sleep cause the bed was so small, then add in getting woke all hours of the day and night.  Needless to say I was irritable.

An interesting thing that happened while recovering in the hospital was when I discovered something that was put in my chart.  See when the nurses changed over the one leaving would walk the new nurse around and tell her about each patient.  Well one day I had heard my nurse tell the one coming on, “He has a personality disorder.”  Of course when I herd that I assumed they were talking about the patient next door.

A few days later I heard the nurse leaving say outside my room, “He has a personality disorder.”  I thought “Nah, they can’t be talking bout me.”

Then a couple more days later the two nurses were in my room.  The one nurse was letting the new nurse about me situation and said, “He has been diagnosed with a personality disorder”

Now I am not one to be offended easily.  I could be called an a*****e and brush it off.  But that was something that struck a nerve with me.

So I interrupted the nurse and said, “Hang on a second.  What is this about a personality disorder?”

She replied, “I don’t know, I didn’t think you had one.”

I let her know that I was offended by that and that no one in the hospital is qualified to diagnose that, they are doctors not psychologists.  I also mentioned that no one was with me long enough to even determine that.

She apologized and said she would have it removed from my chart.  I said it wasn’t her fault and thanked her for removing it.

A couple months later when I brought up the incident it was brought to my attention that when I went in to the hospital I was a bit out of it.  That is fair enough, but still whoever did it should have taken into account my situation.  And if they thought that then bring in a shrink to determine the diagnoses before putting it on my medical records.

The next issue was insurance to pay for this.  As I stated earlier that I didn’t have any when I entered the hospital.  They filed Medical for me.  It was taking a while to get it approved. 

I was actually able to go home a couple of weeks after the surgery; the problem was I needed to keep an IV for another month.  That would require a nurse to come every few days to the house and check on me.  Without insurance or Medical there was no way to pay for it.  So they were keeping me in the hospital until the Medical came through.

So there I was with nothing to do but watch a television with fuzzy reception.  The only good thing was that I had a private room so I didn’t have to deal with fighting over what to watch.  Also my family brought some of my personal possessions to the hospital.  The most important was my MP3 player, cause I could get lost in music for a while and block out the noises down the hall.

Another perk I had to bring some comfort was my best friend would bring me a Frappuccino every other day from Starbucks.  Only family was aloud so we told them he was my brother.  Which was fitting cause he is a brother to me.

My oldest sister Kim and my dad lived in town and made frequent visits to keep me company, which also helped me from going insane.  My brother by blood came down from Sacramento for a day to see me.  My sister in Alabama flew in for a couple days as well to see me.  She also paid a cleaning service to come clean my house so when I got home it would be sterilized, which was important in my vulnerable condition.  So it goes without saying I had a lot of love and support all around me.

Eventually the hospital decided to pick up the bill to pay for my in home visits until my medical went through.  I believe they did that because they were in a shortage of rooms for all the patients they had.

Whatever the reason I was finally going home.  So on February 10 of 2015, nearly a month after I checked in I was able to leave the hospital a new and healthy man.  I got to say it felt more like I was in there for three months.  We were having a dry winter till that point.  But it was rainy on the day of my release.  Which was fitting cause I love the rain.

I now consider January 19^th as a second birthday because it was my second chance on life.  I really felt reborn, physically and spiritually.  Don’t get me wrong I always believed in God, I just felt closer to him since I came close to residing in heaven.

There is so much of the story.  Some things I left out, some things I forgot.  There were many others who visited me in the hospital, prayed for me and cared about my well-being.  Including all the other people on the writer’s site I am actively involved in.  And I truly appreciate all those who showed me love and support during my ordeal.  I don’t mean to leave anyone out.

I eventually got new glasses and a set of dentures.

So as I wrap this story up there are a couple questions I thought I’d try and answer in case you are asking them to yourself.

First one being why did I let it get so bad?  Why had I not seen a doctor when it was apparent something was wrong?  One thought was something that was brought up to me.  Was I really wanting to die?  That is a fair question.  Honestly I do not know.  There is a chance subliminally I was.  I had no one special in my life.  I was on furlough from my job.  Did I have a death wish?  I really can’t say.  I just know that I am now  so thankful everyday that I am alive.

The other question some of you reading this might ask is why did I decide to tell my story?  That can be summed up with a one word response, awareness.  Awareness to the fact that we must listen to our bodies when it is telling us something is wrong.   If things seem out of whack in your body go see a doctor.  If there isn’t anything wrong then you have lost nothing.  If there is and don’t go it can mean your life.

Also I wasn’t to put out there that there is a connection between your teeth and your heart.  I know I had been told that before but didn’t believe it.  So take it from someone who knows from experience, there is a connection.

I will end this simply by thanking anyone who took the time to read this.  I hope you find it helpful in one way or another.

Author's Note

If you have any questions feel free to ask.

Reviews

[Corset]

man, what an ordeal you have been through! I am so bad about visiting doctors, I know I shouldn't be, I don't know why, especially dentists, I guess it because there is simply no way to feel dignified when you mouth is propped open and someone is digging through it. I am glad you received the help you needed, and there were hospice out there that still cared enough to give you the very best treatment even though you didn't have insurance. Maybe this will help someone but I imagine writing about it helps too, it's good you didn't have to go through this all alone.

[The Rock And Roll Cowboy(REBEL WITH A CAUSE)]

Thank you for reading my story and sharing your sentiment.
Always appreciate when housetop by and let me know what you think.