The 38 Hour Day

I think I'm mostly recovered now, and the better news trickling in is helping, but we had none of that when this started.

It was already nearly bedtime. In fact, I was tired enough to start thinking about what I still needed/wanted to do, getting ready to take the dog out for her last chance to reject the lawn as a suitable spot that night for a pee before bed. Yes, that's our desert dog, temporarily relocated in MN.

My phone rang. It was Steve's oldest son's wife, Katy, frantic with worry, letting us know he'd been taken to the hospital, reaching me first instead of Steve from the kind of panic that gums up rational thinking and sorting phone numbers in that kind of situation. I handed Steve the phone. They'd been fixing supper, when he'd started one of two seizures. She'd called the ambulance, and for the next blur of time they'd arrived at the hospital, he'd been intubated and plugged into all the monitors they use on patients where nobody knows yet what happened or what will next. In the process he'd been medicated both to induce coma and paralyze him. If he were to wake he'd fight intubation. Under the circumstances it would still be needed.

We immediately promised to come up, what turned into a 4 hour drive after a bit of online research informed me how to find the hospital and which highways led there. I figured once there we'd just hit the ER, always well lit, and get directions from there.  Getting ready led to some incomplete plans, including getting dressed, grabbing next doses of pills we'd need, planning to load on caffeine for the drive, turning doggie responsibility to my son we were staying with, thinking we'd be back in the morning shortly after he headed off to work. 

We pretty much underestimated all of it. We also didn't account for the rain working its way through, the reluctance of nighttime country drivers to turn their lights from high beams to low, or road closures with long detours along the way. Steve did promise to stay awake for "Deer Watch", since neither of us underestimated their ability to suddenly appear in the path of a moving vehicle at the worst times and in the worst places with the most inconvenient results. He did his job admirably, at least on the trip up, seeing one deer which I missed, but the stress of our task made him forget he'd seen it by the next morning. No matter: we didn't connect.

The rain was light, so the major issue with it was its contribution to both old and fresh bugs smearing across the windshield for the first few dozen miles, until washer fluid combined with it to both ease the bugs clear while helping the Arizona-aged rubber finally soak up enough liquid to adequately do its job again. Or was it their first time? I recall both thinking about buying new ones before we left AZ and deciding I had something more important to do instead at that moment. It all combined on this trip into having to alternate between keeping the AC on the inside of the windshield to defrost and keeping enough heat also on it so neither of us got chilled, both having dressed for a very warm sticky evening. I had planned for a chilly hospital - they ALL are - and brought a zipper hoodie, but Steve was under more stress and spaced that part. I loaned him mine as needed.

Katy, when called to tell her we were finally there, came out and guided us to his room. The next couple hours were filled with (lack of) results from tests run, tests still planned, possibilities, talking to Lance as if he could hear to remind him how much he was loved, and trying to keep Katy and Steve occupied with other things besides worrying. Steve shared many of his best stories, whether Katy had heard them or not. She'd share something when prodded, like explaining to me how the two of them had met. I spent most of my time reminding Steve of more stories to share with Katy. There were of course regular interruptions from staff checking monitors, giving updates. and finally announcing they were going to be sending him to a hospital better equipped to deal with whatever was going on than their fairly rural one. Problem was they were still searching for a bed for him. Steve sent Katy off with some small bills for the vending machines since she hadn't eaten for ages and the cafeteria was closed until after 7 the next morning.

Once a hospital bed was finally located, we were informed he was being sent to St. Mary's in Duluth. We were now waiting for a helicopter to arrive for his transport. This meant we were left wondering why that instead of a regular ambulance: was he that critical? Katy was also devastated to hear there would be no room (fuel capacity) in the helo for her to come along. They were just reestablishing themselves in a new state, hadn't secured jobs yet, and there were no funds for gas for that long a trip. While we were mulling that over, staff popped in again and announced that the helo would not be flying after all due to impending weather conditions. (Oh yeah, that rain we drove through. Much worse now? We hadn't heard, of course.)

So now there was hope she could ride in the ambo with him, but that was quickly squashed. The crew would have to decided if, in addition to the people caring for him and all the equipment he was connected to supporting him, there would be any additional room for her as well. They were thoughtful enough not to mention the possibility of how his possibly worsening on the way would complicate their jobs, particularly with an emotional wife witnessing it.

Seeing Katy again devastated, Steve and I cocked eyebrows at each other, not needing communication to offer her the needed ride to Duluth. Sure, I hadn't slept yet, but there was caffeine left in the car. I'd gone back out and tried to nap, but that hadn't happened. We'd make do, whatever needed for safety at the time.

Over another hour passed while waiting for the ambulance (busy evening) to show up. We got a tentative diagnosis: Meningitis. Which kind? Source? Prognosis? Not only had they no answers, they couldn't even prove, yet, that was the correct diagnosis. I had gone out earlier to go over the car's maps to find a better way home than we'd come up, since it had a huge detour, and found one. Now I needed a decent map to get to St. Mary's. Duluth I could manage, but I hadn't been to St. Mary's for perhaps 20 years for work, from a different direction (freeway), and with better maps. The staff came up with one of those 2-page Google printouts that can take a full page to say turn left at x,  go y blocks, and turn right on Z for 50 miles. I sat with that for a while to make it make sense, aka "speaking in Heather".  With my car map it became "go back to 169, north a mile to 2, east to 149 in (town forgotten already) and pick up 53 continuing east which dumps you practically at St. Mary's doorstep.  OK, 169 - 2- 149 - 53 - hospital street address. Got it.

Now it was a wait for the ambulance to leave. Katy wanted to stay with Lance until he was loaded inside and on its way. We followed for a while behind flashing lights but were in no way willing to try to keep up with a vehicle which had mandated right-of-way wherever. Katy slept in the back seat, Steve, finally, in the passenger front. By then, shortly after 4 AM, we had noticed the sky in the north was already lightening up, clouds parting. It would be daylight when we reached Duluth to hunt for the hospital. Easy peasy!

Ya think? Nobody mentioned that as soon as we were in Duluth, 53 was blocked. Construction. Construction everywhere, it turned out. I-35. Nearly every street we turned onto. Even the ones we couldn't (and couldn't return on) were both one-way and blocked. Gotta go where you don't want to and still can't get where you need to. Katy was still sleeping until we parked at their ER, and Steve hadn't brought his glasses to read the print on the two sheets of fairly useless directions. By then all that was needed  was the address since Duluth is laid out fairly logically, but by then my own stress and tiredness levels were combining to make me forget, within 10 second of reading the address and checking the next street sign, what both of them had said. Luckily low traffic levels that early meant I could pull over nearly every block to reconfigure the next desired-but-impossible move.

I finally parked outside St. Mary's ER, woke Katy, and we wished her well. While finally escaping Duluth we heard a strange cell phone ring in the back seat. Katy had left her phone! Another glance showed she'd left Lance's bag of clothes as well. Turn back? HELL NO! We'd already contacted Steve's daughter who planned on bringing Lance's and her Mom up to Duluth later that day. It was early so Steve texted her instead of calling that we would bring the things by on our way south - not a huge detour - and drop them off to get taken up on their trip. She was already awake, texted back, so they wound up with an actual phone conversation. They weren't heading north until 10, so we had time.

On the way down, we stopped for gas and fast food breakfast. By the time we rolled into our phone/clothing drop off, I was running on fumes and driving was beginning to get dangerous. I found shade, asked Steve to give me a half hour, and was instantly asleep. Steve gave me 45 minutes, and I was fine to head the rest of the way home.

I had been figuring that our abandonment-issues dog would be frantically crying to see us when we rolled into the driveway. To our surprise, my son not only had taken her out in the morning before leaving for work, he'd delayed going to work until just after we came. Luckily he has a boss who doesn't mind his schedule as long as he puts in his whole 40 hours every week. He'll be heading in to make up the hours on Saturday. She was happy to see us, just long enough to get petting and then go crawl inside a blanket for her next nap. Go figure! We opted to do the same. It was a very long day and a half.

Update: Lance is awake, unvented, and with movement, speech and cognition returning. We have no idea what is next, but our worst fears have receded.