Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.
-Wes
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Christmas. Show all posts
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Merry Christmas to All
To every person who finds themselves sick or alone this holiday season. To the many caregivers who toil without recognition this day and the next. May the peace and joy of this holiday season transcend it all as we pause and reflect on what really matters.
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.
-Wes
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.
-Wes
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
You Are Christmas
To all of the first responders
Laboring in the icy night in an hour of unexpected need
While their children get tucked into bed
In the blanket sleepers...
You are Christmas.
To all the caregivers
Who make Christmas happen
Even when their hearts are heavy and
Moments of rest too few…
You are Christmas.
To all the suffering
Who rise to the occasion
With a smile or a simple gift
Or permission for others
To celebrate without them…
You are Christmas.
To all the doctors, nurses and hospice workers
Whose own trees go undecorated and gifts go unsent
Because it seems every year
The hospitals are full at holiday time...
You are Christmas.
To all the parents
Who recapture the innocence of the season
For the sake of their children
With a song, a story, a silly ritual…
You are Christmas.
After all, it was never about the strong, the powerful, the rich,
The proud,
It was always about the humble, the faithful, the courageous,
The quiet, hopeful ones.
The scared young family standing in wonder at the manger,
Trusting, holding faith, believing in good,
Believing in love.
From both of us – Merry Christmas,
Diane and Wes Fisher
Sunday, December 22, 2013
This Christmas, Look Up
I sit before the computer screen this morning, wondering "What should I write?" Yet as I thought about this, I realized I should really write about why I'm thinking about this.
My journey in this space of social media has been a bumpy one, full of ups and downs, ins and outs, obsession and indifference, all rolled up into one. Yeah, this sums up health care social media now, at least for me.
I began writing here in November 2005, not really knowing what I was doing. I thought of this space as a marketing space, then an information-to-patient space, then a social space ("gee, so many interesting people here!) and even an "inside view of medicine" space. In reflection, I really didn't know what the hell this space should be.
But then came 2006 and 2007, my father became gravely ill, and social media was a wonderful outlet for me to reflect on all of the emotions, memories, and experiences that such an event invokes. I found I loved writing. To this day, I use this space as a diary of that time in my life, and even found my eyes blurring a bit this morning as I re-read my earlier Christmas reflection of the events that occurred that year. Blogs, I've found, are really a good space for remembering certain events, certain times.
Later, I'm not sure where I went with social media. I signed up for Twitter during the Twitter-craze and learned about "tweets" and "hashtags" and all that stuff. I was amazed at how "up-to-date" I could be with the latest rage, outrage, sound bite and scandal in medicine. Heck, it my cell phone would come alive! Medicine is so, *ping* , i-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g again! *ping* *ping*
As if the latest cell phone vibration, chirp, and flash was really what mattered and dull ol' medical care was just, well, glacially stimulating by comparison. What's not to like, right? You could be a teacher, provocateur, and health care social media detective! You, dear doctor, could make a difference!
But in reflection, reality's been very different than that.
I realize now that I am just one voice, one small individual in a the overcrowded mess that is the internet. Everyone is trying so hard to be heard. Entire social media companies are developed just to make sure you pay attention to your cell phone - just look at SnapChat, where if you don't immediately attend to your cell phone, the image, message or 10-second video is gone, never to be seen again. Pay ATTENTION, people!
This is not to say people's voices aren't important. In fact, many in this space say incredibly powerful things here. But I am seeing something very interesting on social media now, especially as it pertains to doctors' participation in this space: propaganda.
There are very savvy, well-organized forces on social media now. Everyone knows this is where the battleground of public opinion rests. So forces are marshaled, teams assembled to make sure the party line is towed.
I ask you, dear doctor, who much time do you have? So it is with social media in health care.
But recently in my evolution in this space, I realize I have matured. I don't come into health care social media starry-eyed any longer. It has a purpose. You can meet some remarkably thoughtful and insightful individuals here. You can make some pretty amazing friends. And you can get lost.
But I realize there's a purpose, too. People can tell a single, quiet, story here - a small, transcendent one, too.
Nowhere was this more visible than in the recent quiet, painful reflections of a young boy suffering with leukemia and the wonderful stories he and his parents shared in their blogs. These are not people providing propaganda, these were people with a purpose. These were people who realized what mattered. These were people who were an inspiration to us all.
As I reflect on all of this at Christmas time, I find it's more important to spend these short, dwindling, yet cherished moments with real life, not one manufactured by the media companies.
Time is precious. Family is paramount. And social media is, well, social media.
This holiday season I hope all of us will take time to pull our heads from our cell phones and computer screens. There some amazing things going on around us, some amazing stories of hope and courage, and things we really need to appreciate. Most of those things aren't represented by bits and bytes on an iridescent screen, but rather what we take for granted every day, if we dare to look up.
Merry Christmas.
-Wes
My journey in this space of social media has been a bumpy one, full of ups and downs, ins and outs, obsession and indifference, all rolled up into one. Yeah, this sums up health care social media now, at least for me.
I began writing here in November 2005, not really knowing what I was doing. I thought of this space as a marketing space, then an information-to-patient space, then a social space ("gee, so many interesting people here!) and even an "inside view of medicine" space. In reflection, I really didn't know what the hell this space should be.
But then came 2006 and 2007, my father became gravely ill, and social media was a wonderful outlet for me to reflect on all of the emotions, memories, and experiences that such an event invokes. I found I loved writing. To this day, I use this space as a diary of that time in my life, and even found my eyes blurring a bit this morning as I re-read my earlier Christmas reflection of the events that occurred that year. Blogs, I've found, are really a good space for remembering certain events, certain times.
Later, I'm not sure where I went with social media. I signed up for Twitter during the Twitter-craze and learned about "tweets" and "hashtags" and all that stuff. I was amazed at how "up-to-date" I could be with the latest rage, outrage, sound bite and scandal in medicine. Heck, it my cell phone would come alive! Medicine is so, *ping* , i-n-t-e-r-e-s-t-i-n-g again! *ping* *ping*
As if the latest cell phone vibration, chirp, and flash was really what mattered and dull ol' medical care was just, well, glacially stimulating by comparison. What's not to like, right? You could be a teacher, provocateur, and health care social media detective! You, dear doctor, could make a difference!
But in reflection, reality's been very different than that.
I realize now that I am just one voice, one small individual in a the overcrowded mess that is the internet. Everyone is trying so hard to be heard. Entire social media companies are developed just to make sure you pay attention to your cell phone - just look at SnapChat, where if you don't immediately attend to your cell phone, the image, message or 10-second video is gone, never to be seen again. Pay ATTENTION, people!
This is not to say people's voices aren't important. In fact, many in this space say incredibly powerful things here. But I am seeing something very interesting on social media now, especially as it pertains to doctors' participation in this space: propaganda.
There are very savvy, well-organized forces on social media now. Everyone knows this is where the battleground of public opinion rests. So forces are marshaled, teams assembled to make sure the party line is towed.
I ask you, dear doctor, who much time do you have? So it is with social media in health care.
But recently in my evolution in this space, I realize I have matured. I don't come into health care social media starry-eyed any longer. It has a purpose. You can meet some remarkably thoughtful and insightful individuals here. You can make some pretty amazing friends. And you can get lost.
But I realize there's a purpose, too. People can tell a single, quiet, story here - a small, transcendent one, too.
Nowhere was this more visible than in the recent quiet, painful reflections of a young boy suffering with leukemia and the wonderful stories he and his parents shared in their blogs. These are not people providing propaganda, these were people with a purpose. These were people who realized what mattered. These were people who were an inspiration to us all.
As I reflect on all of this at Christmas time, I find it's more important to spend these short, dwindling, yet cherished moments with real life, not one manufactured by the media companies.
Time is precious. Family is paramount. And social media is, well, social media.
This holiday season I hope all of us will take time to pull our heads from our cell phones and computer screens. There some amazing things going on around us, some amazing stories of hope and courage, and things we really need to appreciate. Most of those things aren't represented by bits and bytes on an iridescent screen, but rather what we take for granted every day, if we dare to look up.
Merry Christmas.
-Wes
Saturday, December 07, 2013
MedTees for the Holidays
 | |
| "Kori" - a patient with a MedTee (Used with permission: click to enlarge) |
The idea of the website is a simple but important one: "We have few role models and few realistic stories about living with a less-than-perfect body, or less than perfect health. How we choose to deal with the cards that life gives us is what this site is all about." About half of the slogans used on the various t-shirts sold by the site were donated by our patient-customers with proceeds directed to the charity of their choosing. All proceeds that we receive from the sale of these shirts (about $3/shirt) is donated at the end of each year, proportional to the themes of the t-shirts sold. (By the way, we're always looking for new ideas for shirts.)
Since we do not purchase advertising, this blog serves as our "ad space" for MedTees.com. This will be the only blog post used this holiday season to promote the site, so if you're looking for something different to offer a friend who's been through a tough time medically this past year, consider a MedTee.
It might mean more than you realize.
Happy Holidays -
Diane and Wes Fisher
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
What Every Doctor Needs For Christmas
... it brings RFID tags to a whole new level (via Bluetooth) and guarantees you will always be able to locate your keys, pager, stethoscope, ... whatever... each morning: SticknFind.
(Santa, are you listening?)
-Wes
(Santa, are you listening?)
-Wes
Sunday, December 25, 2011
Merry Christmas!
Click image to enlarge
Thanks to all the doctors and nurses who contributed. Wishing you all the happiest of holiday seasons!
-Wes
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The Pressure's On: Last Day to Send a Picture of Your Favorite Holiday Wear
Remember to send a relatively small (<=350K or so) picture of the item to me at wes - at - medtees - dot - com.
We've got a few pictures so far (tie pictured above was from Nick Genes, MD), but plenty more for the color pallate would be greatly appreciated.
Thanks again and Happy holidays!
-Wes
Monday, December 19, 2011
Christmas's Lessons
"What's your favorite color?" my brother asked me.
I had never been asked that question before, so I had never thought about it. I considered my options: green (everyone's favorite at the time), yellow (somewhat bland), blue (depends on the shade), orange (the color of a fruit? No...), and then came my answer for no apparent reason at the time.
"Red."
Little did I know my older brother was colluding with my family (and Santa, of course) to decide upon the color of a new bicycle. The ruse was revealed at the end of Christmas morning when I followed a string whose one end had been attached to an ornament through every room in our house. It was only after following it to the dank confines of our basement was the surprise revealed.
Ah, the memories.
But for many, the Christmas season will be far removed from this Utopia. Some will hear the terrified cry if a woman screaming for help after her husband collapses before her. For others will come the wailing cry of a mother who learns her child just died. For others, they will witness the silent tears of a man who learns his certain fate after the diagnosis of cancer. For each of these, the depts of despair will seem insurmountable; the sadness, intolerable.
So as I return to work this week, I count my blessings. For it won't be about the gifts that I receive, but rather the giving that will matter. As health care workers, we are invited to glimpse the inner workings of this complicated, messy story called life, a story that never stops. But in doing this, we are taken backstage to witness not just the frailty of the human body and spirit, but its remarkable strength, too. And while we know we won't be able to save everyone's pain this holiday season, know that we are honored to be given the privilege to try.
-Wes
I had never been asked that question before, so I had never thought about it. I considered my options: green (everyone's favorite at the time), yellow (somewhat bland), blue (depends on the shade), orange (the color of a fruit? No...), and then came my answer for no apparent reason at the time.
"Red."
Little did I know my older brother was colluding with my family (and Santa, of course) to decide upon the color of a new bicycle. The ruse was revealed at the end of Christmas morning when I followed a string whose one end had been attached to an ornament through every room in our house. It was only after following it to the dank confines of our basement was the surprise revealed.
Ah, the memories.
But for many, the Christmas season will be far removed from this Utopia. Some will hear the terrified cry if a woman screaming for help after her husband collapses before her. For others will come the wailing cry of a mother who learns her child just died. For others, they will witness the silent tears of a man who learns his certain fate after the diagnosis of cancer. For each of these, the depts of despair will seem insurmountable; the sadness, intolerable.
So as I return to work this week, I count my blessings. For it won't be about the gifts that I receive, but rather the giving that will matter. As health care workers, we are invited to glimpse the inner workings of this complicated, messy story called life, a story that never stops. But in doing this, we are taken backstage to witness not just the frailty of the human body and spirit, but its remarkable strength, too. And while we know we won't be able to save everyone's pain this holiday season, know that we are honored to be given the privilege to try.
-Wes
Friday, December 16, 2011
12 Days of Christmas - EP Style
In a brief burst of holiday enthusiasm, we worked on a special song today that came together after our fifth case for your enjoyment: The Twelve Days of Christmas, EP Style. Feel free to sing this song in your Electrophysiology Laboratory this Christmas season.
A pacer for a-sys-to-le.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Two Long QT's
And a pacer for a-sys-to-le
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Three time outs
Two Long QT's
And a pacer for a-sys-to-le.
(You know how the rest goes... Here's the rest of the verses:)
Four LV leads
FIVE HUNDRED JOULES!
Six vessels bleeding
Seven sheath a-splitting
Eight consults waiting
Nine second pauses
Ten incisions weeping
Eleven patients crashing
Twelve hearts a-fibbin'
(Heh. Okay, not perfect, but it helped keep us laughing...)
Merry Christmas!
-Wes
(To the tune of 12 Days of Christmas)
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,A pacer for a-sys-to-le.
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Two Long QT's
And a pacer for a-sys-to-le
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me,
Three time outs
Two Long QT's
And a pacer for a-sys-to-le.
(You know how the rest goes... Here's the rest of the verses:)
Four LV leads
FIVE HUNDRED JOULES!
Six vessels bleeding
Seven sheath a-splitting
Eight consults waiting
Nine second pauses
Ten incisions weeping
Eleven patients crashing
Twelve hearts a-fibbin'
(Heh. Okay, not perfect, but it helped keep us laughing...)
Merry Christmas!
-Wes
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
A Special Request for the Holidays
In the spirit of good cheer, I have an idea, but I need your help.
I need a picture of your favorite holiday tie or sweater. Not you, mind you, just a close-up picture or your tie or sweater. If you want, I'll try to include your name somehow, just let me know. Try to keep the image under 300K or so in size if you can (my inbox can only hold so many). And please, only one entry per person.
The idea here is to make a collage of items worn by health care personnel during the holidays around the world that I will Photoshop together. I plan to post the image before Christmas for all to enjoy. Deadline for submission is midnight (CST) 20 Dec 2011. Send your entries to: wes - at - medtees dot com.
So get out your iPhone or Droid and get snappin'!
-Wes
I need a picture of your favorite holiday tie or sweater. Not you, mind you, just a close-up picture or your tie or sweater. If you want, I'll try to include your name somehow, just let me know. Try to keep the image under 300K or so in size if you can (my inbox can only hold so many). And please, only one entry per person.
The idea here is to make a collage of items worn by health care personnel during the holidays around the world that I will Photoshop together. I plan to post the image before Christmas for all to enjoy. Deadline for submission is midnight (CST) 20 Dec 2011. Send your entries to: wes - at - medtees dot com.
So get out your iPhone or Droid and get snappin'!
-Wes
Remembering: The Concertos
Today's one of those days this time of year where there just doesn't seem to be enough time, so I offer you a bit of reading from another Christmas season:
The Concertos.
Happy holidays.
-Wes
The Concertos.
Happy holidays.
-Wes
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Decisions
It is a decision that is not made easily each morning.
It takes a careful consideration of the anticipated caseload or clinic volume. It requires uncanny discretion as one weighs the acuity of the clientele to be encountered – a sensitivity, if you will, to their needs.
He recalls the negativism toward the day’s concern and wonders if his choice has ever really hurt anyone. Imagine the horror if that were true! They are, after all, part of a larger collective, accumulated over the years that hang close to their war-torn brethren. He scoffs at the idea, but still wonders.
He chooses, not one, but all of them and marvels at their assortment, their artistic complexity, their repetition, and the memories: each had it’s own story to tell. He considers the day’s partner like Bob Barker selecting the prize: “Will it be Door Number 1, Door Number Two, or Door Number Three?”
Still, he will never forgot the face of the man whose wife had just died this same week, tears overtaking his lower eyelid as he described their love for each other, the children, the kids all there as she took her last breath. Home was so quiet now. “I just can’t bear going into her closet….” He paused as he tried to composed himself. Then he stopped, eyes full of tears but glowing.
“You know, I like your tie,” he said. “Reminds me of her. Every year she’d give me one of those at Christmas. We’d laugh because she’d try to outdo herself from year to year: green ones, red ones, reindeer, Santa, the whole shebang. Last year’s was the worst! I hated wearing then, but there was no choice. She’d kill me otherwise. But the funny thing was, I never saw a face that didn’t light up in the store or at work as a result. Works that way, ya know? Life is too short, otherwise.”
Yeah, the red reindeer-and-Santa one should do today.
-Wes
It takes a careful consideration of the anticipated caseload or clinic volume. It requires uncanny discretion as one weighs the acuity of the clientele to be encountered – a sensitivity, if you will, to their needs.
He recalls the negativism toward the day’s concern and wonders if his choice has ever really hurt anyone. Imagine the horror if that were true! They are, after all, part of a larger collective, accumulated over the years that hang close to their war-torn brethren. He scoffs at the idea, but still wonders.
He chooses, not one, but all of them and marvels at their assortment, their artistic complexity, their repetition, and the memories: each had it’s own story to tell. He considers the day’s partner like Bob Barker selecting the prize: “Will it be Door Number 1, Door Number Two, or Door Number Three?”
Still, he will never forgot the face of the man whose wife had just died this same week, tears overtaking his lower eyelid as he described their love for each other, the children, the kids all there as she took her last breath. Home was so quiet now. “I just can’t bear going into her closet….” He paused as he tried to composed himself. Then he stopped, eyes full of tears but glowing.
“You know, I like your tie,” he said. “Reminds me of her. Every year she’d give me one of those at Christmas. We’d laugh because she’d try to outdo herself from year to year: green ones, red ones, reindeer, Santa, the whole shebang. Last year’s was the worst! I hated wearing then, but there was no choice. She’d kill me otherwise. But the funny thing was, I never saw a face that didn’t light up in the store or at work as a result. Works that way, ya know? Life is too short, otherwise.”
Yeah, the red reindeer-and-Santa one should do today.
-Wes
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Hallelujah from Alaska
It was just supposed to be a school computer project from the small Yupiq Eskimo Village of Quinhagak, Alaska, but it's become a YouTube sensation (and for good reason):
-Wes
-Wes
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
A LIttle Holiday Cheer
From our lab to yours, complete with a heart, pacemaker and defibrillator ornaments, defibrillator pads, pacing-lead tinsel, and an ablation catheter tree-topping:
Wishing you a happy holiday season and very Merry Christmas!
-Wes
Click image to enlarge
Wishing you a happy holiday season and very Merry Christmas!
-Wes
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Merry Christmas!
I made saw a few patients, read some Holters, and then came home his afternoon to two kids working feverishly in the front yard. Excited, they exclaimed, "Look, it's Santa and his reindeer!"
Careful inspection disclosed a moderately obese male, looking younger than his stated age without a palpable pulse, axillary temperature of 32 degrees and no discernable blood pressure nor respirations. Nonetheless, it was clear the instruments most have been malfunctioning, because the patient and his companion looked very real indeed, one with a carrot nose and the other with a cherry-tomato nose. Clearly, the spirit of Christmas is very luch alive!
Merry Christmas to all the patients, friends, colleagues and loyal readers of this blog. May you have the healthiest and happiest of holidays.
-Wes
Careful inspection disclosed a moderately obese male, looking younger than his stated age without a palpable pulse, axillary temperature of 32 degrees and no discernable blood pressure nor respirations. Nonetheless, it was clear the instruments most have been malfunctioning, because the patient and his companion looked very real indeed, one with a carrot nose and the other with a cherry-tomato nose. Clearly, the spirit of Christmas is very luch alive!
Click image to enlarge
Merry Christmas to all the patients, friends, colleagues and loyal readers of this blog. May you have the healthiest and happiest of holidays.
-Wes
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Angels
It was a day like any other, time spent in front of the television, relaxing. He sat on the sofa after she had put the kids to sleep. She returned to the large recliner and put her feet up on the ataman as she browsed their movie selections. With the dishes done, they settled back, chose a film, and each breathed a large sigh.
They’d been soul-mates since high school: married for 15 years. They had grown comfortable with each others’ idiosyncrasies and limitations, but they always worked things out for the better. Now, in a moment of peace, they were content as one more day was coming to a close. And yet, as is the case with life’s great unknowns, they had no idea it was the calm before the storm.
As a commercial aired she heard something. She had never heard that sound before. Was it gurgling? She looked over at him. He stared blankly. “John, knock it off. That’s so inappropriate,” she said. The sound grew louder. He did not respond. “John, come on, that’s not funny.” Then he collapsed to the floor.
Instinctively, she rolled him on his back, panicked. “John? John? Dammit, John, wake the hell up!” He was turning blue. She ran to the phone and dialed 911.
“911, how may I help you?”
“My husband just fell to the floor – he’s not breathing! He’s blue! I think he’s had a cardiac arrest! Please, send an ambulance to 123 Main Street NOW! PLEASE!”
“I’ll send an ambulance right away. Do you need help with how to do CPR?” She dropped the phone and dashed back to him.
She started pressing. “Dammit, John, come on!” She kept pressing. Then she realized: the front door was locked. She jumped up and unlocked it, then returned to him, pressing. She wondered, “Should I wake the kids? Oh my God, please, not now! Keep pressing.” Moments later she heard the sirens. “Thank God! Come on, John! Hang in there!” she thought. She kept pressing. She could see the lights now as their iridescent flashes brightened, then darkened, the room. She could hear the squawk of the radio as they came in. They saw her sweating, pale with adrenaline. “Thank God!” she said.
One of the men opened their bag. Someone tore open his shirt. Stickers. Tubing. Patches with wires. The machine said something. They stopped. Why? She saw her husband’s body jerk slightly. They waited. A faint green line moved. Slowly at first. Then accelerated. They checked his leg. It was faint, but present.
“I think there’s a pulse!” Another man stood at his head with a silver instrument. Another man moved her away. “He’s putting a tube in to help him breath,” he explained. Things were a blur now. Tape, fluids, radios for assistance. Calls to others, more people arriving. “Seventy-eight over forty,” she heard them say. A cart entered the living room. They lifted him together. He wasn’t moving.
All too soon, he was gone.
She stood, shocked. People asking questions, she answered, but didn’t know what she said. “Will be be okay?” she thought. “Did I do enough? Where’s he going? My God, the kids! What will I do?” She called her best friend for help, for someone to help with the kids. “I think they’re taking him to General,” she told her.
“I'll be right over.”
* * *
He had woken the third day after 24 hours of medically-induced hypothermic coma. At first, he moved his leg, then his head and arms, then moved quickly to try to pull the tube from his throat as he opened his eyes. The next day the tube was out, he spoke to her, smiled, and asked what had happened. He soon knew how lucky he was. He squeezed her hand.
She held back tears and smiled.
Two weeks later, he received his defibrillator and returned home to the kids. It was snowing soft flakes. The house glowed with Christmas lights placed there by the neighbors. A nativity had been placed above the fire place. They stopped and took it all in as they hugged and gave thanks nervously. Uncertainty remained but they knew they were still together for a reason.
Angel after incredible angel.
All smiling.
-Wes
They’d been soul-mates since high school: married for 15 years. They had grown comfortable with each others’ idiosyncrasies and limitations, but they always worked things out for the better. Now, in a moment of peace, they were content as one more day was coming to a close. And yet, as is the case with life’s great unknowns, they had no idea it was the calm before the storm.
As a commercial aired she heard something. She had never heard that sound before. Was it gurgling? She looked over at him. He stared blankly. “John, knock it off. That’s so inappropriate,” she said. The sound grew louder. He did not respond. “John, come on, that’s not funny.” Then he collapsed to the floor.
Instinctively, she rolled him on his back, panicked. “John? John? Dammit, John, wake the hell up!” He was turning blue. She ran to the phone and dialed 911.
“911, how may I help you?”
“My husband just fell to the floor – he’s not breathing! He’s blue! I think he’s had a cardiac arrest! Please, send an ambulance to 123 Main Street NOW! PLEASE!”
“I’ll send an ambulance right away. Do you need help with how to do CPR?” She dropped the phone and dashed back to him.
She started pressing. “Dammit, John, come on!” She kept pressing. Then she realized: the front door was locked. She jumped up and unlocked it, then returned to him, pressing. She wondered, “Should I wake the kids? Oh my God, please, not now! Keep pressing.” Moments later she heard the sirens. “Thank God! Come on, John! Hang in there!” she thought. She kept pressing. She could see the lights now as their iridescent flashes brightened, then darkened, the room. She could hear the squawk of the radio as they came in. They saw her sweating, pale with adrenaline. “Thank God!” she said.
One of the men opened their bag. Someone tore open his shirt. Stickers. Tubing. Patches with wires. The machine said something. They stopped. Why? She saw her husband’s body jerk slightly. They waited. A faint green line moved. Slowly at first. Then accelerated. They checked his leg. It was faint, but present.
“I think there’s a pulse!” Another man stood at his head with a silver instrument. Another man moved her away. “He’s putting a tube in to help him breath,” he explained. Things were a blur now. Tape, fluids, radios for assistance. Calls to others, more people arriving. “Seventy-eight over forty,” she heard them say. A cart entered the living room. They lifted him together. He wasn’t moving.
All too soon, he was gone.
She stood, shocked. People asking questions, she answered, but didn’t know what she said. “Will be be okay?” she thought. “Did I do enough? Where’s he going? My God, the kids! What will I do?” She called her best friend for help, for someone to help with the kids. “I think they’re taking him to General,” she told her.
“I'll be right over.”
* * *
He had woken the third day after 24 hours of medically-induced hypothermic coma. At first, he moved his leg, then his head and arms, then moved quickly to try to pull the tube from his throat as he opened his eyes. The next day the tube was out, he spoke to her, smiled, and asked what had happened. He soon knew how lucky he was. He squeezed her hand.
She held back tears and smiled.
Two weeks later, he received his defibrillator and returned home to the kids. It was snowing soft flakes. The house glowed with Christmas lights placed there by the neighbors. A nativity had been placed above the fire place. They stopped and took it all in as they hugged and gave thanks nervously. Uncertainty remained but they knew they were still together for a reason.
Angel after incredible angel.
All smiling.
-Wes
Friday, December 19, 2008
Christmas Came Early
... to Chicago area kids this AM: it was a snow day!
Now there's at least one more young adolescent nestled snug in her bed with one happy smile on her face as Christmas break began one day early.
I not sure I could have planned a better early Christmas present.
-Wes
Now there's at least one more young adolescent nestled snug in her bed with one happy smile on her face as Christmas break began one day early.
I not sure I could have planned a better early Christmas present.
-Wes
Thursday, December 11, 2008
The Spirit of Christmas
'Tis the season for giving:
-Wes
"Doc, could write that refill a little early so I don't get hit by my co-pay after the first of the year?"Ho ho ho.or
"Can I get that done before I head to Florida next week?"or
"Thanks for everything Doc, I just can't miss my flight Tuesday."
-Wes
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Monday, December 24, 2007
Merry Christmas
For the greeters at the front door,
For the kitchen staff,
For the transporters and maintenance workers,
For the security staff,
For the volunteers who visited the hospital today, and who visit tomorrow,
For the medical students and residents who drew the short straw,
For the secretaries, librarians, and clerical staff,
For the laboratory and xray technicians,
For the chaplains and social workers and engineers and groundskeepers,
For the administrators and directors,
For the nurses who go the extra mile,
For the doctors who cover this night, and yes,
For the patients too sick to be able to be with their families tonight:
From our home to yours,
May the peace and joy of this holiday season brighten your day and give you comfort.
Merry Christmas to all!
-Wes
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