Balloons and Lessons

I decided to post an image of "fun" balloons, because I want to forever remember that type, not the type I was tested with on Monday, although I guess my balloon test on Monday impacted my future far more than any special occasion balloon ever did. So there's that...

As many of you already know, I went to Emory Monday morning for a Balloon Test Occlusion (BTO) on my left carotid artery to be followed by an injection of a radioactive drug and then taken to the nuclear lab for further screening. Basically, the nuclear scan is used to further confirm the results of the BTO. During the BTO, I was fully awake and given only a local anesthetic for the insertion of the catheter used to thread the balloon through my right femoral artery. Not to garner sympathy, but let me just say that's why I chose to include a picture of "happy" balloons in my post because it was anything but fun! I cried (yes, like a baby), I moaned (not in a good way), and I shook rather violently (it was really cold in there) and yes, I was a bit anxious (however, since you're strapped down, shaking is held--literally--to a minimum). Throughout the process, however, my doctor did just what he was there to do, albeit a bit longer than originally anticipated. We were told that the BTO would take about an hour and the nuclear scan about 45 minutes to an hour. Well, since I already had scar tissue from the previous angiogram, it took close to an hour to just get the balloon in place! Once that was done, though, my inquiring little mind was somewhat fascinated. The doctor told me when he was inflating the balloon and that I might feel some pressure behind my eye; he was right! It wasn't at all unbearable, but definitely noticeable. The next part of the test took about 30 minutes during which the resident asked me to perform several tests (raising arms in the air and closing my eyes for several seconds to see if they remained steady, blinking, smiling, sticking out my tongue, tracking a pen with my eyes, squeezing his hands, pushing against his hands, wiggling my toes, answering questions, repeating simple phrases--you know, the normal things you do when fully awake and strapped down).

Then, when the doctor deflated the balloon, I heard it! It sounded like a little whine right next to my ear, pretty crazy! The nurse injected my IV with a coagulant to reverse the effects of the heparin which was necessary for the procedure, and that's when the fun began.

Just after injecting the coagulant, the nurse injected the radioactive drug, and while we were waiting for it to infuse, I began to feel weird--how's that for a medical term? My chest felt weighted down and tight as if someone had just dropped an anvil on it, and I became very flushed. My heart rate dropped to 60/40, and although I'm no doctor, I knew that wasn't good! The crazy thing is I that I was totally "in the moment"; I mean, I knew everything that was going on around me. The doctor determined that my reaction was to the coagulant and got me stabilized. Shortly thereafter, they took me to the nuclear lab for the scan. The scan seemed more like an MRI (although I wasn't fully inside a tube) in that the imaging was done with a device that was circular and partially open in one area. I admit that I'm a bit claustrophobic, so I tried to will myself to keep my eyes closed and kept repeating, "you can do this" as this device slowly "ticked" its way around my head. The scan is supposed to take exactly 30 minutes from the start of it to the finish but unfortunately, I had to ask them to stop at the 16 minute mark. Although the sensation was different, I again had a weird feeling--pain in my abdomen, nauseous, and definitely not normal. A resident immediately appeared at my side and began palpitating my abdomen Fearing that I had developed a clot in my abdomen from the BTO, they whisked me down the hall for a CT scan. Let me add that when you're already feeling nauseous, a winding trip laying flat on your back on a gurney doesn't help the situation. Ugh! BUT, how grateful I am to have been in such a place as Emory where the doctors took my "weirdness" seriously! After leaving the CT scan, where nothing unusual was found, I was taken back to the first procedure room to wait until my symptoms subsided. The doctors in the nuclear lab told us there was a small window of opportunity to have the nuclear scan done (because of the drug) and that after 3:30, that window would close. Obviously, we didn't want to miss it; however, when the nurse called them to say I was stabilized and could have the test, the doctor said that I couldn't return! Needless to say, that didn't sit well with my neurosurgery team who had worked so hard to get me to that point, so after a few conversations back and forth, we were told that the nuclear team would restart and do the test IF my nurse agreed to stay with me for the duration. I had a more than amazing nurse named Beth who readily obliged; honestly, she was incredible. She was with me from about 9:30 in the morning until after 4 in the afternoon. After the nuclear scan was completed, I was taken back to the procedure room to wait for a room to open up in ICU, something else I hadn't planned for that day. Anyway...after a short time period, a room opened up, and I spent the night in a posh suite at the Hotel Emory. Because of my unusual reactions, strange episodes, and some really odd numbers in my lab work--blood sugar, platelets, and calcium primarily, the doctor felt that I should be admitted for monitoring. My vitals were taken, blood sugars drawn (forgot to mention that before the BTO, my blood sugar was 43, REALLY low, so they had to give me dextrose prior to starting), and procedure site checked throughout the night to make sure I didn't have any more issues. (Well, I do have issues, but that's another story!) So basically, that's my update. Read on, though, for the most impactful part of my experience...

As I said, when they first attempted to do the nuclear scan, I tried to will myself through it by repeating, "You can do this". Well, that didn't exactly work! When I returned for the scan the second time, I thought about all the people that I knew were praying for me, how worried I knew my husband and family must be, and how the day had not gone as planned and changed my recitation. That time, I kept saying to myself, "You will get through this; God's got this. You have lots of people praying for you; you're going to be okay. God's got this!" Believe it or not, I'm telling the truth! I completely shifted my focus away from "You can do this" to "God's got this!" The procedure was over before I expected it to be! It's as if God himself stopped the procedure the first time to remind me that HE was in control and that I just needed to let go and let Him do what He does! I later thought about the first two statements of faith I learned from Beth Moore, "God is who He says He is, and God can do what He says He can do." As a human being, I know that letting go of control is one of my biggest struggles, but I also know that God CAN do what He says He can do; I witnessed it first-hand with Jonathon. My prayer is that He's not finished with me yet, and that just maybe He's got a few more lessons to teach me!

By the way, I passed both of my tests! Surgery is tentatively scheduled for January 20, depending on the Pipeline rep's schedule since one has to be in the OR during the procedure. The Pipeline is still Plan A, but after the balloon test occlusion, we know that if the doctor has to resort to Plan B, he can occlude the artery, and I will still have normal function. I'm in good hands, ALL the way around!

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." - Isaiah 41:10