Last Thursday night, my husband was feeling a bit of malaise and tiredness. I gave him cold medicine and he went to bed very early, before 7 pm. I was also not feeling great, so I also went to bed soon after.
I was so tired that I fell asleep without my eye mask, chin strap or ear plugs. Now, I’ve been trying to pull back from the ear plugs, because I figure that Ambrose’s snoring is as quiet as it’s going to get and I should get used to sleeping while he’s doing it. But on this night, I simply fell asleep before I managed to put them in.
I was awakened in the night by extra loud snoring. I tried to poke him to get him to stop, but it wasn’t working. I figured he was sick, and therefore snoring loudly, so I went to the couch to sleep – with my ear plugs.
But the ear plugs don’t cut out all sound, so I heard it when he fell off the bed. He didn’t. He was still asleep somehow. At this point, I tried to wake him. Started to panic when I realized I couldn’t. He began to vomit, and I rushed to turn him on his side from his back. His whole body was stiff. Difficult to move. When I went to bend one leg so I could leave him in recover position, I found that I couldn’t do that either.
Legs and arms were rigid. And when he vomited again, his whole body tensed. His neck craned forward. I was glad he had his snoring mouthpiece in, because I could hear little popping noises as he strained. He was clenching his jaw, and I just hope the pops were from the mouthpiece and not his bones or tendons.
I had been woken in the middle of the night. I live in the middle of nowhere. And the thought that if I called 911, surely he’d be awake when they got here and I’d just create a massive bill for no reason. My brain was firmly in denial that this was serious.
But I couldn’t wake him. And his breathing was so labored. And I wouldn’t be able to sleep and see if he was better in the morning, because if he vomited again, he might aspirate it and never wake up. So I called 911.
I actually got the Valley County dispatch and had to be transferred to Washington County. I had a hard time hearing the operator from Washington County, though the Valley County one had been easy to hear. He stayed on the phone with me until the ambulance arrived.
At this point, I had Ambrose partially covered with a sheet, and I had jammed his knee pillow between his straining leg and the corner of his dresser, so he didn’t mess his leg up on top of whatever else was going on. The EMT removed the sheet, but left the pillow until they were ready to move him. She performed a sternal rub while calling his name (after asking me what it was), and it was terrifying to see him almost rouse at the pain, but not quite. His body seemed to move on its own accord from the stimulus, and his eyes fluttered, but he wasn’t awake.
I mostly watched at this point. There was one EMT and two volunteers. I did show one of the volunteers the back door so he could evaluate it for egress potential. After looking, he decided to stick with the front as there were more corners to maneuver through out back. After some preliminary evaluation, they got him onto a board and out the front door. In the ambulance, they took some time to get him hooked up to various equipment, and then they drove off to the Midvale Airport to get him on a Life Flight transport to Boise.
I followed. I was wearing a skirt I usually wear for work, the tank top I’d been sleeping in, and my Softstar Merry Janes. I wasn’t really prepared. I think I was a bit in shock. Definitely in denial. Kept expecting him to just wake up. To just be okay.
At the airport, I hopped into the ambulance for a spell. They moved, so I then lost orientation and track of where I’d left my car. I stood outside the ambulance once the Life Flight crew arrived, landing in a lighted zone set up by a Sheriff’s deputy who had met the ambulance at 95. They spent what seemed like a very long time working on Ambrose in the ambulance. They were very concerned with his breathing, still stertorous and tortured, so they intubated him.
But even after that, it seemed to take them forever to get Ambrose out of the ambulance and into the helicopter. I saw him into it, and then, with the help of a spotlight from the deputy, found my car and started the drive to St. Alphonsus Hospital in Boise where they were taking him.
Ambrose and I have been backpacking as a serious hobby in Idaho’s remote wildernesses for more than a decade now, and for years, we talked about getting a Life Flight membership. This year, living out in Cambridge, ID, we bit the bullet and purchased a membership. It’s a small silver lining, but I’ll take it.
Despite having slept for less than 3 hours, I was able to make the drive into Boise safely, arriving at the hospital around 6:30 am on Friday morning. He was in the emergency department, and they let me back to sit with him. At that point, he was under sedation and still intubated with a ventilator doing his breathing. They had done a CT, but wanted to do another with contrast. There was a note in his medical records about an allergy to contrast dye though, so they pre-medicated him with Benadryl and Prednisone to stave off any ill effects the dye might have.
Neither Ambrose nor I have any biological family within 300 miles. But I have a friend who is like family to me, and she came out to sit with me in the ER around 8 am. I think she kept me sane through the long wait for a diagnosis and a room.
Ambrose had a stroke, and likely more than one seizure.
After seeing him safely to a room, my framily brought me back to her house, fed me, let me shower, and put me down for a nap (she’s got experience with that with her 18 month old – though I didn’t get a book or snuggles). I’m not usually a nap person, and I warned her I had no idea how long I was going to sleep. She said it was cool if I slept through the night, she’d just curl up on the other side of the bed. But I only slept about 3 hours.
After eating a nice dinner with her and her toddler, I headed home. I live about a two hour drive from the hospital, so I went home with the intention of spending the night, and then coming back with enough gear to stay at least one night.
Home felt strange. I had left all the lights on to help the ambulance find me in the dark. I went around turning those off and found myself operating in pieces. Put away one dish from the dishwasher, then drink some water, then check the bed (still damp), then the carpet, oh there are stains, better scrub that up before it really sets in, but don’t I need to start packing, where’s my suitcase, okay I’ll pack on my side of the bed and let Ambrose’s side dry with the fan on overnight, no way am I sleeping in that bed tonight, I can’t even make it, we need a new mattress protector because this one leaked pretty badly, well maybe it was also strained, he was sweating like crazy.
It was hard to settle myself. I ended up doing a load of laundry, but didn’t shower that night. Too tired to shower again.
I slept on my floor couch in the living room. It seemed like a better idea than sleeping on the couch itself, because the couch is very soft and I like a bit of a firmer sleeping surface. It was actually hard to force myself to stay up late enough to get the wash into the dryer, but I managed. And it made it pretty easy to fall asleep once I got that final task done, some time after 10 pm. Almost 24 hours after the whole ordeal began.
Saturday morning I woke up at 4:40 and couldn’t fall back asleep, though I told myself I could sleep until 6. I tried to do kind of normal things. I made myself oatmeal. Got another load through the wash. Finished packing. Showered. Drank my morning quart of water. Oh! I did a set of 3 pullups, so that was cool.
I wanted very badly to get to Ambrose’s side. I didn’t want to miss him waking up. But I knew I needed to be prepared to leave the house this time, so I didn’t rush.
That was a good thing. When I arrived at the hospital around 10 am, they had withdrawn sedation, but he had not woken up. Something else was going on in his brain, and they weren’t sure what based on the CT. The doctor ordered and MRI to get more detail on what is going on in his brain. I went to lunch with my framily, hoping he would taken while I was out, but they didn’t end up taking him until around 5:15 pm.
And that’s where we are right now as I write this. Off to MRI, and then we’ll see.
I’m feeling disjointed. A bit traumatized. A bit jealous that Ambrose gets to sleep through all this terror. Then numb. Then crying. Blend and repeat.
My body hasn’t recovered from the shock and the sleep interruption.
My brain is all over the place, and my IBS is flaring.
There’s no manual for this.