I'll just go in chronological order and try to make sense of this whole ordeal.
I was in Rochester for the weekend. Drove up Friday afternoon. Did a 6.2 mile run around the campus. My hamstring and groin were tight, but were loosening up as I ran. So I went easy. Went out Friday night for a couple hours and then just went back and went to sleep. Normal, unassuming night right? Exactly.
Saturday morning rolls around. Paul and I decide, Let's make a big breakfast/brunch type deal! So I cleaned a little and chattered about going to finally get registered for my half marathon. I was seriously pumped to run at this point. Paul joked around with me and asked if I had ever had cumin before because he was putting it on the potatoes. It's in Taco seasoning, so yes, yes I have. We sat down, ate. And I took a sip of my iced tea and felt like a hard burp/air bubble/something catch high in the middle of my chest. It almost feels like heart burn. So I tried to ease it out. I've gotten it before and it just hurts for a minute. So I put my arms up and tried opening my chest. Started to tell Paul it hurt. I guess I slurred it and then went face down on the table.
Next thing I know, I'm "opening" my eyes (apparently they were open the whole time which freaked poor Paul out. I have huge eyes as it is). I was clammy and shaking. Paul was blowing air into my mouth and my exact reaction: "What the hell are you doing?" and I tried shoving him away. Yeah. Poor kid. I immediately knew where I was. I thought I had woken up from a ridiculously long nap or something though. Then I got scared and started shaking more. He said my color was back though. And he had literally caught me in one arm and called the ambulance with his other hand. So I could hear the sirens in the distance and the EMTs were there within minutes. Scary. I was pretty with it though. They asked me a bunch of questions and other than being cold, I told them I was fine. Asked them NOT to rip or cut my Marist sweatshirt off of me. So they gently helped me out of it. They did an EKG and all these tests and then told Paul I NEEDED to go to the hospital and they gave me a choice. Not being from Rochester, I just said take me to the one you like more. So I ended up in Strong-Memorial attached to the University of Rochester. Right where the race would be going around the next morning. Irony at its finest.
I also informed them they would NOT be sticking me with an IV in the back of an ambulance because, even though I'm sure they're pros at stabbing people with needles in moving vehicles, a random pothole can really ruin someone's day. I did let them prick my finger and get my sugar level. It was fine.
Paul called my parents and followed the ambulances. He sat in the ER with me after they did another EKG and got a bracelet on me. And then we waited.
One doctor said I seemed fine and could probably run the next day! Paul gave him the death stare.
Two more doctors came in and said my EKG was deeply concerning and I would need to be kept overnight and have labs done aka NEEDLES. The waterworks began at that point. I was terrified. One doctor elaborated to inform me that I could have the problem that some athletes have been having where they just go into cardiac arrest O_O Yes. Panic more. The heart rate monitor I was hooked to proved entertainment of a sort for Paul who had never actually witnessed how slow my heart rate actually is.
I was cruising in the low 40's, mostly 38's the entire time I was there.
I dropped to 28 when she finally held me down and put the damn IV in and drew blood. And no painful IV is complete without a steaming side dish of guilt about how I should be donating blood because I have marvelous veins and I'm healthy. That nurse and I were NOT friends. So once that was done, they finally took me upstairs to observation. Got Paul a much more comfortable chair because he wouldn't leave me (Thank God. I kept telling him to go get food or a sweatshirt. He wouldn't. It was 9 and he was afraid they wouldn't let him back in. And my sweatshirt was like a girdle on him). He actually brought two bags of stuff that he grabbed quick before we left. My purse and some clothes. Bless him, he forgot underwear but remembered a sports bra and pants. hahahaha. I never even changed so it wasn't an issue. And my purse had sandwich crackers and granola bars so I'm guessing he was pretty glad he grabbed it.
We watched Angry Beavers on his tablet and he tried distracting me from the useless thing that was my IV ladden right arm. I was never even hooked up to medication or fluids.
They did an Echo cardiogram. Came back clean. The doctor that did it was new though and bruised up my ribs a little. "Ribs really get in the way, huh?" JAM JAM PRESS PRESS. You wouldn't say?!?!
The night was awful. The IV bugged me ALL night. It was in the crook of my arm/elbow/whatever and I was keenly aware of it ALL night. I could not get comfortable. Taking my contacts out was rough (and then I couldn't see my cute doctors the next morning! No glasses with me. DAMN). Plus, the poor guy on the other side of my curtained room (these weren't actual rooms, just three-sided curtain rooms. So you could hear EVERYTHING) was deaf and constipated. So he was tossing, turning, moaning, groaning. They helped him video chat with a friend, but he laughed or made noises the ENTIRE time. Probably until 2:30 am. Normally, I'd have fallen asleep, but....not in these circumstances.
They released me in the morning. I was refusing to eat their food because it was making me feel sick. And I wanted a shower. AND MY DAMN IV OUT. They said I appeared to have had a vasovagal syncope episode, which is common. It's a fainting spell when that vagus nerve in the chest gets squeezed or compressed, exactly as mine had probably been. But my heart was still concerning to them with its reversed t-waves and slow rate. So I needed to immediately see someone at home. But they let me go.
Paul and I could finally go home, get cleaned up, get real food. He watched me eat and made sure I ate slow. He said going in the kitchen freaked him out because everything was all disheveled. I felt terrible :( And then he drove me and my car down to Albany and my parents put him on the train home, since I wasn't allowed to drive. Especially not 5+ hours alone.
It was a mess. I owe Paul big time. First, for saving me. Second, for staying with me in a hospital all night. Third, for driving me home after all this. And fourth, for just being genuinely nice and understanding the entire time.
To update the situation:
I saw Doctor Chien at home. He is AWESOME. He thinks it was a vasovagal syncope and told me how to try and avoid them, because I'm obviously prone to them as some people are. He wants to do a stress test soon, once my insurance clears it. But otherwise, he thinks it's just my make-up. My reversed t-wave is actually normal into the mid-twenties. Especially for an athletic female he said. And he thinks I'm just very healthy. Nice to hear. And when Paul helped me lay down on the floor after I fainted, that's why my color returned. Although I'm sure the breath of air helped. I was only out 10 seconds. To alleviate these episodes, either lay down or cross your legs and lock your hands and pull across your chest.
So I'm hoping from here on out, it's good news. I've definitely been nervous all week and my ribs and back have been achey from the hospital stay.
The real kicker...the winner of the half marathon ran 1:28. I could have definitely won. I was pissed. And the doctors coming in saying, "All the roads are closed because of the marathon. Couldn't get to work haha" made me want to take an ultrasound probe and jab them in THEIR livers for an hour and see how THEY liked it. Grrr.
I also miss running. I feel lost after work without worrying when to go for my run and where. Who'd a thought I'd miss that!
The hospital
Emergency Department....couldn't resist some pictures in this long post.
