I woke up in a hospital bed with all kinds of equipment around me. All kinds of sounds like beeps and chirps going on all around me. The main thing here being… I woke up. I was informed by a nurse at my bedside that I was in the Neurological ICU post op ward at the Jefferson Neurological Hospital. It was early in the morning, around six AM. Soon thereafter, the attending surgeon and surgical resident that performed my surgery entered the room. “You’re a lucky man, Mr. Keenan” was the first thing that he said. The Subarrachnoid Hemorrhage that burst in my brain was leaking a large amount of blood into my skull and thankfully the surgeons were able to secure the situation before what could have been a fatal end for me. He said that even a little bit longer response time, it would have been too late. I am, again, a lucky man. I was in a tremendous amount of pain. My head was just pounding as the anesthetic was wearing off. The surgeon told me that the ICU Neurologist was preparing a pain management program for my stay. I hope that it’s quick! They exited the room as I gathered my thoughts for the first time. Wow! What the hell just happened? Where’s my family? Are they OK? Do they know that I am in the ICU?
Lori had called Nick who was having dinner at Parx Casino with friends. He had left to go out after Lori had driven me to Doylestown Hospital. He was so used to my trips to the ER, he wasn’t too worried or aware of the grave situation presenting itself at the time. Lori called Nick as soon as the ambulance left Doylestown Hospital and he headed home right away to bring Lor downtown to Jefferson. After they learned that I survived the surgery, Nick headed home and Lori slept in the waiting room until she was able to see me. Our visit was brief since I was still in a precarious state. My parents came in to see me for a few more minutes and then take Lori home. It was a long night for everyone. A long scary night. I tried to rest as the pain continued to escalate in my head. It was still pretty early in the morning, around 9 am. The doctors spoke to Lori for a bit and informed her that I would probably be recuperating in the hospital for approximately three weeks before being released to go home. Really now? This was obviously bad. How about some pain meds, please?
I tried to sleep while the flurry of the floor buzzed all around me. Good luck. This was one busy place. Dozing off, I tried to rest my brain and body. The trauma to my whole self was massive. While I lay there, a massive pain starts grabbing my right groin. An excruciating throb inside my thigh like it was going to explode. My discomfort was contagious as the nurses rushed to my side, hearing my cries for help. What was happening now!! The surgeons were called in to assess my situation and to my dismay, were well aware of my predicament. One doctor sat at the edge of my bed massaging my leg. “I regret to inform you, that during your operation, one of our surgical residents created a condition known as “Reverse Aneurysm”. As the Resident was placing the catheter in my groin to follow the artery to my brain, he pierced the arterial wall and then pierced the vein wall beside it. The situation was rectified but when withdrawn, the catheter caused bleeding that traveled between the artery and vein comingling the blood flow. This condition was not only extremely painful, it was very dangerous. The only good thing was that a new round of Morphine would be administered immediately to help with the pain. Barely. Within a few minutes, two ambulance personnel showed up and I was placed on a gurney. What?? Without explanation, I was being taken down to the ambulance bay for a load up and ride across the street, literally, to the actual Jefferson Main Hospital for another procedure to repair the Aneurysm created while saving my life the night before. I kind of felt that this stealth mission was being performed due to a major fu!@#k up while my life was being saved. I wasn’t complaining. While I waited alone in the pre-op area, I wondered what procedure would be coming next. Just then, three doctors appeared from behind the heavy pleated curtain. “”So what gives guys”?, “What am I doing here”?, “What’s the plan”?, “On a scale of 1 to 10…how dangerous is my predicament?” All major concerns of mine at this point! There were two new residents, one cherubic looking brunette and a really young looking Indian fellow. The head surgeon was a very, very petit Phillipino woman. Soft-spoken and confident. She, well I think she, will use an ultrasound machine to locate the Aneuryism and seal the leaking vein with an injectable sealant. The procedure was precise and dangerous. If I felt tremendous pain, I needed to yell and wave my hands. That would mean that the glue used to seal the leak had infiltrated the vein and blocked the blood flow. Ok then. This day just gets worse. The danger scale 1 to 10? About a 9 according to the attending physician. The cherubic attending resident was apparently next up to give the procedure a shot. I don’t think so!
Next Up: A Southern Angel