Small towns kick ass

Columns again.... we'll see!

I'm home! After two years away, nothing says home like the Columbia Valley, and I am sure as heck happy to be back in your midst!
There are so many reasons I love this place, not least of all because my children are here.
Family, friends, familiar places and a general feeling of being back where I belong have all meshed together to give me that ol' Mayberry feeling I wrote about years ago when I was a new reporter for The Echo.
Having been out of the committing journalism scenario for some time, I look forward to writing a column now and again and offering my sage and brilliant perspective on all sorts of valley issues... heh heh! Oh I hear the collective groans now!
But one thing I do want to touch on with no uncertainty is our health care.
Now, I know there are always going to be people who gripe endlessly about small town medical care, and I know that just like in every profession there is a wide variety of talent and experience.
And I know something else.
I am sitting here clacking away on my computer today for one reason and one reason only: our hospital rocks.
See, a few Mondays back I got sick. Very sick. By Tuesday morning my husband Tony made the decision for me that I needed to see my doctor, Theresa Ross, immediately. And I did. An hour later I was in her office, with Tony doing the talking as I was in a fog of pain and fever.
And Theresa had me up in the ER, then the ICU, very shortly after that.
Things are a little hazy from that first day or two, though I do recall snippets here and there, many of them coming back like clips from a “best of” show.
If I could play it on a screen for you, with internal monologue dubbed in, it would have sounded something like this.
Upon first arrival...
Me: I hurt everywhere... so cold... please help.
Nurse: We're going to give you something for the pain Stephanie.
Me: I'll take anything.
About half an hour later...
Doctor: Stephanie you are very sick, we need to do more tests and you are being admitted.
Me: Mmm, yes sick. Goodness Percoset is lovely.
Ok, ok, of course my memory is a little befuddled, but my point is the doctors and nurses did such a good job of caring for me I really had no idea just how ill I was, or how close I came to dying.
Had I been in Calgary or Edmonton, sitting in a waiting room for untold, and precious, hours, the outcome for me would have been very different.
But I was not in a big city hospital.
Nope. I was here, in our little town, in our little hospital, getting the treatment I needed exactly when I needed it. Theresa, along with Drs. Francois Lowe, who was in the ER that day, Mike Walsh and Shannon Page, and nurses Teena Godlien, Ann Zurbriggen and Clara not only did their job, they exemplified professionalism, compassion, and respect for me that week.
I know there were other nurses who were involved, and please know it is not that I value you less. I have to plead memory issues from that week. What I do clearly recall is that first day in the ER with Teena, long days with Ann and long nights and Clara, my primary pair, who checked my vitals too many times to count, and made decisions for me when I was just incapable of doing so myself.
It did eventually occur to me how serious it all was. But when you have a group of people doing their job so well... heck, it just made it easy not to be afraid. And I was so confident they would take care of me, even without the Percoset I drifted in and out with an underlying sense of safety.
We have a wonderful team here.
I am thankful for all of you. I know I would not have received the same quality of care or compassion anywhere else.
Too often we take the bonuses of small town life for granted.
Heck, we take life for granted.
Not so much anymore for me. I am still recovering, still feeling the effects. I guess it`ll take a while. But when I think of the damage sepsis can cause, and look myself in the mirror, I remind myself my kids still have a mom, my husband still has a wife, complete and essentially in good working order.
And let`s face it. I just have too many opinions yet to voice.
Catch you on the flip side folks. Sure is good to be home.

the goods on the visit to hospital land.

Branding at the Feldmann Ranch.

So the last week of April was an interesting one.
I felt very unwell on the Monday, my entire body aching, could not get warm, generally felt dreadful. I assumed I had the flu. By the next morning I was worse, and Tony took matters into his own hands and got me in to see my doctor Theresa Ross. Tony did most of the explaining to her as I was feeling pretty dazed, was still in considerable pain and just could not get warm, which of course was because I had a fever.
I was admitted to the ER where Dr. Francois Lowe and the nurses took wonderful care of me, tests were done, turns out I was full on septic and was shuttled into the ICU.
Between pain meds, IV antibiotics, pain meds (yes I know I listed them twice) and general good care I was not feeling particularly concerned. Of course, I had no idea just how gravely ill I was either. And as the staff did not know what was making me so ill, so there were no other answers to be had.
My blood pressure did dip very low at one point, and I was given boluses to combat that (large amounts of saline sent via IV quickly into my body), but unfortunately my kidneys did not quite keep up and fluid backed up into my lungs causing a new issue, as did the large amounts of painkillers which were necessary, but a little too strong for narcotically virginal system. See also "I was absurdly stoned and unable to respond to anyone coherently," not a state I ever wish to be in again. It scared the hell out of Tony and Theresa was none too pleased either, so pain meds were changed right away.
Thursday my fever was gone and I was sent to Cranbook via ambulance for a CT scan to see if they could pinpoint the cause of the sepsis. This was a nightmare of a trip. I was supposed to go in, have the scan, and come home. Did it goes that way?
No.
No instead I went in, they did the scan, sent me to their ER and was told to wait for a surgeon as I had to have a biopsy in the morning. No other explanation at all. Just that.
They stuck me on a stretcher in the ER, I could not get in touch with Tony as I had not brought my cell and had not memorized his cell number, so I was a little distressed. Then a nurse comes in, closes all my curtains, tells me my fecal samples finally came back and I was now under quarantine, could not leave the curtained area as I had some dangerous contagion and to wait for the surgeon there. It was another half an hour before he arrived and by then I was in a total panic thinking I had infected my children and husband and who knows whom else with this apparent infectious disease, and needless to say I got weepy and a bit... well... hysterical for a few minutes when he did arrive.
Feel a little sheepish over that, but I mean come on!
Ultimately what the fecal had revealed is I had contracted a Campylobater infection, which is infectious, though not quite as fearsome as they had made it initially sound (I had visions of bad movies with rabid monkeys creating an epidemic... keep in mind I had been very sick and was not on top of my game!).
What the CT scan revealed is my large intestine is rather a bit of a mess, and likely has been for a while, which explains to a degree just why this bacteria was able to take over as it did and send me into sepsis.
The biopsy was postponed until things are fully healed up, 10 weeks or so, and I was sent back to Invermere ICU. Mike Walsh, another doc, was the hospital when I arrived around 9:30 that night and asked me if I knew how I likely contracted the bacteria. I explained the surgeon had told me it was from improperly prepared chicken, and I was to stop antibiotics, go home, and not touch anything for a couple of weeks. (sounds logical... NOT).
Keep in mind it is a small hospital, I was very sick and so all information I had given anyone had been shared between the docs as they discussed my case, so it was easy for Mike to pinpoint just where I had picked up the campylobactor: at the branding I had helped at the Saturday before. Just as he had contracted it at a branding a couple of years ago.
After a Friday morning meeting of the eight docs on staff at the hospital it was decided that the surgeon's suggestion I not be treated further was not going to fly as he had no idea just how sick I had been, but they would let me go home on the stipulation I be very careful and take a round of Zithramycin, which does combat campylobactor.
And I must note, my friend Dr. Shannon Page had suggested I had campylobactor when I was first admitted, and was tickled to know she was right... in fact was oddly gleeful as I lay in a peekaboo hospital gown... Shannon has a positive attitude that just won't quit and I totally adore her!
So home I am and home I stay until I am fully healed up, which hopefully will be soon. Every day I feel little better, but internally it will be a while before things are totally back to normal. I can eat again, which after fours days of no food and little water is very nice indeed.
I have to say the care I received at Invermere's little hospital was incredible. I cannot thank my doctors Theresa, Francois, Mike and Shannon enough, nor the nurses that took such care of me, especially my night nurse Clara and day nurse Anne, and ER nurse Teena. Though they were not the only ones involved, they were my mainstays over longs nights of constant vitals checks and IV replenishing.
The first 24 hours were in all honesty a little dicey, but it is done an over with, and I am healing fine.
My new personal theme song is Day by Day by Doug and the Slugs.
:)