Suffice it to say, I wasn’t exactly a happy camper when I wrote that last post about my little prison stint. At the time, I was roided out of my mind and still very sick. Dr W helped me get through this awful time by reassuring me that what anguish I was experiencing, was a normal response after suffering such a severe flare up, and that my complaints were not really unique. (darn…seems the only thing unique about me, is the number of times Ive been intubated)

But what a difference a few extra days can make. I think it was Thursday that I finally ” Turned the corner “. As happens so many times when I think I’ll never recover from a severe exacerbation, I just woke up one morning, and all of sudden… I was breathing better and feeling better! It’s as if whatever was causing my lungs to act up in the first place, just burned itself out and left my body.

It’s astonishing how fast the transformation can happen too… One minute you’re feeing crappy, the next you’re feeling fine. This probably sounds strange, but for a while there it actually felt kinda weird to be breathing easy. All day yesterday I caught myself conscientiously trying to analyze my own breathing to see if indeed I was breathing normal…or I was imagining it. No wheeze, no difficulty exhaling, no discomfort…just normal breathing! So weird, but so appreciated. Id give anything to be able to breath like this all the time. Healthy people take their breathing for granted.

So with this most recent revelation, and after having survived literally dozens of these types of exacerbations, I put all my observations together and made a list. Ive been able to identify 6 distinct phases that I go through during the recovery phase of a severe asthma exacerbation that required a hospital admission.

Just for fun we’ll call it ” Anatomy of the recuperative phase following a hospitalization for asthma” . The word hospitalization is important here, because the recovery phase from a severe exacerbation that did not require hospitalization, doesn’t seem to follow the same pattern.

Here’s the list in the order of occurrence. Can anyone else relate or add to this?

So that’s my asthma recovery check list. I think every physician and RT who takes care of asthmatics should familiarize themselves with this list to get a better insight as to what we go through AFTER we get out of the hospital.

I’m not totally out of the woods yet and I don’t want to jinx myself, but for the first time in 2 weeks, I actually feel like a human being again. I can breath!
To celebrate, I went ahead and got the first of those 3 goodies that I promised myself…..namely, a haircut! (Yikes…I look a little too str8 now). The new shoes and the Manilow Paris Las Vegas show tickets are in the mail.

You know with all the suffering that’s been going on in the world lately, I feel extremely fortunate in so many ways. I may have really bad asthma, but I also have access to some of the best medical care on the planet. I’m surrounded by caring people, and blessed with the support of others who know what’s it like to live with a chronic disease. I would say I’m pretty lucky and have very little to complain about.

And in case you haven’t heard, SARP is now on Facebook. And thanks to Kerri’s efforts, there’s also a Fan page.

So after each bad asthma exacerbation or flare-up, I feel compelled to write something about the recovery phase that follows. You would think that after going through this process more than a hundred times, that I would get use to it. You learn to deal with it a little better, but you never get used to it.
Better in some ways, and worse in others, the anatomy of this recovery is pretty typical. So far, this is how it’s been going……

Dyspnea : As with most of my post hospital recovery periods, days 5 and 6 have been the hardest to deal with in terms of being short of breath. I was breathing well for the first couple days after being discharged from the hospital, but then my dyspnea levels gradually crept back up again. Yesterday it was unbearable. A mixture of bronchospasm ,air-trapping, stomach bloating and humid weather, I felt like I was suffocating . I’m not sure what today will bring, but I hope things turn around soon as I’m starting to get to really tired of this.

Steroid Withdrawals : This time around they’ve been fairly mild. No major psychosis, just some mild muscle cramps, acne and mood swings. The main reason Ive been spared this time, is because my maximum dose in the hospital was only 60 mg per day. In previous hospitalizations, Ive been on as high as 300-500 mg per day, which can lead to weeks of intense withdrawals and even the potential to re-exacerbate. I have to thank Dr Wenzel for this one. She’s been pretty much able to prove, that high doses of steroids don’t do much for someone with my type of asthma. Currently on my taper, I’m down to 30mg.

Opiate Withdrawals: Next to the bouts of severe breathlessness, the worst problem Ive had to deal with this time, are opiate withdrawal symptoms. While I was in the hospital, I received a lot of IV narcotics for my dyspnea. And because I was on a ventilator this time, I received even more than I normally do. I was getting them almost every hour for the first 4 days and then about every 2-3 hours for the last 3 days. That figures out to more than 100 doses of intravenous Dilaudid and/or Fentanyl. That’s a lot of opiates to put in your body in just a 7 day period. And since I don’t take any of these more potent morphine-like drugs outside of the hospital, stopping them abruptly ( ie cold turkey), always causes me some pretty nasty withdrawal symptoms. Insomnia, nonstop chills/rigors, restless leg syndrome and muscle cramps, just to name a few. The symptoms gradually fade, but the first week can really be a bear.

Body Trauma and weakness: Laying in a hospital bed for a week, working really hard to get a breath, getting jabbed with needles and pumped with drugs and having a tube shoved in my wind pipe (and one in another place), has been pretty traumatic to this old body. I’m starting to feel all the aches from all the IV bruises and Im still weak as hell. You should see the welts left on my belly left from the Lovenox injections.

Looking forward to better days: No matter how bleak the situation seems during the first week of a rough recovery, I always try to focus on better days ahead. Consider this if you will; Yesterday, I could barely walk from my bedroom to the living room without getting totally winded, a distance of less than 10 meters. In just 13 weeks from now, I will attempt to walk 42 THOUSAND meters, at the Boston marathon. That means that between now and April, my endurance will have to increase 4000 fold! The way I feel right now, it seems an impossibility. Give me another week, and my outlook will probably be totally different.

Doing something special for myself: Finally, and maybe this is the selfish part of me, but if survive this exacerbation ,I plan to treat myself to a few goodies. This time, a haircut, a new pair of racing comps (shoes), and a ticket to Barry’s new show over at the Paris Las Vegas. Ok, so I’m a little spoiled.

Battle scars: 4 failed arterial line attempts and 12 failed IV attempts. I have no veins left and my radial arteries are so scarred up from previous insertions, that it’s virtually impossible to get access unless they put a central line in. Very frustrating for the doctors and very painful for me.

I’d been having vague flu like symptoms, such as stomach bloating and chills for about a week before my lungs started to act up. Less than 3 weeks earlier I had received the H1H1 vaccine as well as the regular annual flu shot, so the last thing on my mind is that I might actually be coming down with the flu.

By New Years Eve afternoon my peak flows started to trend downward, and by that evening they had dropped from 340 to 200. My sats fell from 97 to 89%. I was requiring neb treatments almost every hour and had considered going to the ER right then and there, but had decided against it because of it being New Years eve and all. I figured the hospitals would be jammed with New Years revelers , so I decided I would just try to tough it out till morning and then re-assess. Maybe by then I would feel better. After a horribly breathless and sleepless night spent next to the nebulizer machine, I figured I had had enough, bit the bullet and went to the ER.

As is usual for me, rather than being carted in or delivered by ambulance, I strolled into ER on foot. I told the triage Nurse what the problem was. She took down my name and asked if I was in serious distress at the moment ( since I never really look sick) , I said I was OK at the moment . She had me take a seat in the waiting room ( which by the way, was pretty much emptied at 11am). 5 minutes had past, then 10 minutes, and 30 , and still they had not called me in. By now it had been almost an hour since I had a breathing treatment and I was really starting to close up. I hate making a scene , but I thought I was going to pass out, so I stood up and walked back over the triage window. The Nurse took one look at me and said ” OH MY GOD .. You haven’t been seen yet??? I said no, and I think I’m going to pass out. Within 30 seconds I was on a gurney on my way to the resuscitation room . I didn’t actually pass out, but I sure prompted a lot of people into action. Before I knew it, I was on a continuous albuterol neb with people whirling around me trying to get IVs in. They asked the usual questions.. Have you ever been intubated? Before I could answer, one of the ER doctors recognized me and said “He’s a bad one….he’s been intubated a dozen times”
Within a record 30 minutes, the ICU team had completed their evaluation and I was on my way to the unit.

In the ICU they put me on the usual Bipap setting of 12/5 with 15mg/hr of Albuterol piped in. Because of my flu symptoms, they swabbed my nose with the rapid flu test, put me on droplet precautions and placed me in isolation, which means anyone coming in contact with me had to wear a mask and eye shields. Im sure the staff weren’t too please about that ( I know from personal experience what a pain it can be to work with a patient who is in isolation, especially a ventilator patient.)

For the first few hours, the bipap seemed like it was helping, my Sats had increased to 98% with an FIO2 of just 40%. Although I was saturating well, I was starting to feel that all familiar ache that I feel when my CO2 starts to climb. After several unsuccessful attempts at placing an Arterial-line ( which hurt like hell), they finally gave up and resorted to doing individual ABG draws.

(My Hannibal Lecter look before Intubation)

I had now been on bipap for about 4 hours and my PCo2 was starting to climb. The first PCO2 came back at 43, but I was on bipap and my resp rate was in 50s ( this is not a good sign). An hour later my PCO2 was 60. A half hour after that, it was 66 and my Ph 7.29 . It was time for the intubation talk. Rather than himming and hawing about how long to wait, this time I told them straight up, just intubate when you think Ive had enough. They agreed, and 30 minutes later it was lights out for me. 14 hours later I woke up with a tube down my windpipe.

Here’s a clip my camera-happy partner took. They were in the process of weaning me off the ventilator and just about to take the ET tube out.

About 1 hour after that video was taken, I was extubated and talking up a storm …or should I say cuzzing up a storm. Why was I not kept down longer? Why didn’t they use propofol to sedate me. Why were the RTs being so rude to me this time?

The anesthesiologist had promised me that they were going to use propofol and keep me asleep for at least 48 hours, but it turns out that I had the same weird reaction to propofol as I did during the previous intubation. Something called “infusion syndrome“,so they had to stop giving it to me. They thought it was strange, because propofol infusion syndrome usually occurs in people who are sedated for several days.
For that reason they had to use Versed and Fentanyl instead of propofol to keep me sedated, making it much harder to keep me asleep. At one point I actually remember walking up “paralyzed” and unable to move or communicate. Apparently they had not sedated me enough and I woke up before the paralytic agent (a drug they use when they insert the tube) wore off. Talk about a horrible experience. Nothing like being a zombie. In total, I was on the ventilator for less than 2 days.

After being extubated the RT gave me the choice of using the continuous neb or the bipap…. of course I chose the neb. I did Ok for about an hour , but then once again ,my PCO2 started to climb. Not happy with my recent ABGs, the RT comes into the room accusing me of causing this spike in my CO2, because of not following her instructions of using the bipap. WHAT THE F!
Since when is the patient suppose to decide what type of therapy he gets? Even an RT/ patient deserves someone else to call the shots when he’s sick. I didn’t like her attitude and I told her. The next thing I know, she sends in her supervisor who starts patronizing me. He says to me…” your Ph is 7.30 and your CO2 is climbing again. If you want , I can help you correct it. If you’re not willing to help,then there’s nothing I can do for you. WHAT THE F AGAIN? What’s with the all the attitude. Eveyone was nice to me before I got exubated. What did I do?

I was so pissed off I wanted to scream, but I figured that they would treat me better if I did what they wanted. So I just sucked it up and did what they asked. The male RT set me up on what they call “non-Invasive” ventilation. It’s basically where they hook you up to a ventilator with a mask instead of an endotracheal tube. Its just a fancy way to give Bipap. He also encouraged me to play with the ventilator settings , so that I could adjust it the way I wanted. ( Remember, I’m an RT. I know how to operate ventilators). At this point I couldn’t figure out if he was making fun of me, or if he appreciated the fact that I was trying to play ball with him and cooperate. In any case, his act of showing a little kindness paid off, and within a short time my ABGs were stabilized and everyone was happy, including myself.

12 hours later I was strong enough to breath on my own and they were able to discontinue the breathing machine entirely. So, what was up with all the attitude they were directing my way? ( more about that later)

I have now been in the hospital for 3 days, been on and off the ventilator, and was starting to breath a little better. The Rapid flu antigen test came back negative, but because the test is only 50% accurate, they decided to do the more sensitive test for swine flu. That test takes 6 days and had to be send the to state for processing. What this basically meant, is that even if the test was negative, I would be spending the rest of my hospital stay in isolation. I really didn’t mind because it assured me a private room my entire hospital stay.

On Day 4 I was deemed stable enough to be transferred to the step down unit, where I stayed until my discharge 3 days later. While there , I was placed back on a continuous albuterol neb, but this time the dose was decreased to 5 mg per hour.I did fine on that , but began coughing much more than I usually do. My biggest complaint was the congested nose and the unrelenting chills from whatever virus I had. Eventually , my chest became congested as well. I was able to cough up some gunk , which they analyzed in the lab. Seems on top of this virus from hell, I also had a bacterial infection brewing and now had bronchitis. The next morning they started me on Doxycycline and decided to keep me in the hospital an extra day. On Friday I still felt like crap, but was home sick and convinced them that I felt well enough to go home.

So, what was all this rudeness and attitude I was detecting from some of the RTs and some of the doctors? Well , it turns out that some of the ICU doctors were concerned about my tolerance for opiates. The fact that I was requesting Fentanyl and Dilaudid to ease my breathlessness was apparently a red-flag to them. Despite the fact that my personal pulmonlogist’s condone the use of opiates to treat severe breathlessness, it’s still not a widely accepted practice in the ICU. For many critical care doctors and respiratory therapists, if you’re taking opiates, you either have an addiction to them, or you have psychosomatic illness. In either case, you are definitely treated differently. You’re basically treated like a psych patient instead of a medical patient. In my case , neither of their assumptions were true. The fact is, I only take opiates ( or request them) when the work of breathing becomes overwhelming to me. The breathlessness that I experience is caused by my narrowing airways during an attack. It’s this breathlessness that causes my anxiety, not the other other way around. And that’s the part that people have a hard time accepting.

I am not an anxious person, unless I’m suffocating to death. I can see now though, that my requests for painkillers to make my breathing easier, would probably account for why some of the doctors were acting weird around me. On more than one occasion, I has some of the doctors trying to convince me that I should try some long acting anti depressants and/or anti -anxiety meds, instead of opiates to manage my dyspnea. They also gave me a list of referral to various specialists who supposedly deal with dyspnea management ( all of whom, Id seen in the past without success). I reminded her, that I was taking opiates on the recommendation of one of UCSFs own highly acclaimed palliative care doctors.
In the end, I basically told her that we had been down this road many times before, and I that I refuse to discuss the matter any further. It’s my life, and if I choose to take opiates during bouts of severe breathlessness, that’s my choice, and it should in no way, change how I am treated during an active severe asthma exacerbation. Case closed!

Dont get me wrong, I’m grateful, and for the most part , satisfied with the medical care I received during this hospital stay. There were a lot of good things that happened as well. For example, for the first time ever, the doctors actually granted my request to not exceed 60 mg per day of Solumedrol or prednisone, which really helped. I’m am however, not too happy with the way I was spoken to by some of the other staff, especially the RTs . There seems to be this weird vibe I get from other Respiratory Therapists when they find out that I’m a Therapist myself. Either they like me right off the bat or they are intimidated by me… I’m not sure what’s up with that. I was also made to feel by some of the physicians, that I somehow brought this exacerbation on myself by over -reacting to my own dyspnea. That simply wasn’t the case. I’m pretty sure it was the flu that triggered this event, not anxiety. Besides, I think it would be pretty hard to go into full blown clinical respiratory failure, just from anxiety alone.

Bottom line…Much like credit report, incorrect statements or diagnosis that end up in your chart , can have a negative effect on the type of medical care you receive for years to come. I think this is especially true when it comes to medically complex patients (such as severe asthmatics.) A lot of this misinformation could be avoided if physicians were allowed to follow their patients in the hospital. Of course, that’s not going to happen. Evidence based medicine is here to stay.

On asthma severity scale of 1-10, this probably only ranks a 6 or 7, though having the flu at the same made it feel like a 10. Number 97 is behind me now, but I still have a long recovery ahead. It will take me weeks to regain the strength I lost in just one week of illness. As Ive said before, the aftermath of a severe asthma exacerbation is often more difficult to deal with than the actual attack itself.
It often takes several days after the hospitalization before you start feeling the trauma of what your body has been through. Being jabbed dozens of time with needles and catheters. Lack of sleep, sensory overload, having a hose shoved down your windpipe, being place on artificial life support. And then of course , there’s all those potent drugs. All these catch up with you. Yes, the recovery is often the worse than the treatment.

If there are any bright spots to this other wise crappy week, it would be the wonderful Nurses I encountered in both the ICU and Step down units who have taken care of me many times. They are angels.

And finally, a special thank you and hug for Kerri and Dr Wenzel who took the time to check up on me everyday while I was in the hospital via telephone. Dr Wenzel recommended that they do a PFT on me for discharging me,..and they actually did it! Now, that’s what I call clout!

PS…In all fairness, the RTs in question were new to me . I had never worked with them before. Maybe they weren’t aware of my little quirks, but it still doesn’t give them the right to treat me like a 2 year old. As far as some of the physicians concerns, I suppose they were justified, I just wish they would talk to me before rushing to conclusions.

Nothing really interesting going on since I got out of the hospital. Though Ive taken a couple of short slow walks, overall Ive been trying to let my lungs heal as much as possible before jumping back into a physical fitness regimen full time. Been spending a lot of this post hospital recovery time doing non physical activities, including some asthma advocacy and research stuff. Keeping mentally busy, helps me cope with my breathlessness and the not so pleasant symptoms of prednisone withdrawal. The downtime has also allowed me to play catch up on some personal stuff.

Next Friday, Saturday and Sunday will hopefully, be a little more exciting and a little more normal for me. I’m supposed be going down to Solana beach ( near San Diego) for Dave’s advanced racewalking clinic. Ive been really run down lately from the steroid taper and its an awful long drive (450 mile each way), but I’m hoping that I’ll feel well enough by then to go.

If I do go, it will be mainly to hang out with other racewalkers and to meet some of the super stars of the sport. Three time Olympian, Philip Dun and two time Olympian Tim Seaman just to name a few, will be there coaching. Of course Dave Mc Govern , who’s a legend himself, will be running the whole show. My lungs are way too messed up to participate in much of the actual training, but sometimes just watching the elite walkers walk, and/or having my own racewalking form critiqued by them, provides me an adequate level of learning. Most of all though, I go to these weekend clinics because I have a passion for the sport and for the crazy people who engage in it.

In the coming weeks I have a ton of the usual medical appointments, but also a referral to a brand new service called “Symptom Management”. This new clinic is an off-chute of the Palliative care program over at UCSF. I’m going primarily, to see if there are any new therapies or strategies out there that can help me with my worsening dyspnea. To my knowledge, I’ll be the first asthmatic to receive treatment at this new clinic. I’ll be blogging more about the topic of palliative care in a future post.

Sunday was the Nike Womens Marathon. The last few miles of the marathon course passes by my old neighborhood at Ocean Beach in the outer Sunset. I know several people who are doing this years race. I hope they all had a great time!

A lot of attention is focused on what goes on during a severe asthma exacerbation, but very little about what occurs after. What a lot of people ( and even some physicians ) don’t often realize, is that once the initial asthma crisis is over, the party has only just begun. There’s a perception that once you get past the acute phase of an asthma exacerbation, that your breathing rapidly returns to normal and everything is fine again. Well, that may be true in a very small percentage of asthmatics, but for severe chronic lungers like myself, the reality is much different. No matter how many of these severe exacerbations I go through, (and believe me, Ive been through a lot of them), it’s always the post hospital recovery period that’s the most difficult for me.

When you suffer an asthma attack that is severe enough to warrant hospitalization, once that critical acute phase is over , there’s also a recovery phase that you have to deal with. Though not as dramatic, can nevertheless make you feel just as miserable as the initial attack and can last twice as long!
You just don’t walk out of the hospital after a bad exacerbation and go about your business as if nothing ever happening. A severe asthma exacerbation and all the medications and interventions used to treat it, can reek all kinds of other havoc on your body, leaving you weak and breathless for days and weeks after the initial assault.There’s also an accumulative effect, whereby each subsequent exacerbation takes that much longer to recover from.

The length and severity of this recovery phase varies for everybody. For me, it’s usually determined by how severe the initial attack was, how many days I spent in the hospital,and how many steroids they had me on at the time of discharge. Generally, the longer the hospitalization and the higher the steroid dose, the longer it will take me to fully recover. Age and overall health play a role as well I’m sure.

Of course I’m grateful for the medical care I receive in that big building on the hill, but if you think about it, all they really do for you in the hospital, is stabilize you enough so that hopefully you won’t die. There’s no actual concern about “how you’re feeling” as long as your numbers are survivable. Once you’re over the hump clinically, you’re booted out and basically left to fend for yourself. There are no Nurses, Doctors or Respiratory Therapists to hold your hands or monitor your progress after you leave the hospital (unless of course, you live with one). At best, you might have a follow-up a appointment with your doctor a couple weeks down the road , but by then you’ll probably be back to normal ,which kind of negates the whole purpose of such an appointment.

Still, after going through this a million times, I consider myself lucky. There are some poor souls out there who’s asthma is so severe, that they never fully recover from their exacerbations. They are in a state of perpetual exacerbation and recovery. They are never symptom free. These are the people I feel for the most.

Maybe I’m asking too much, but I really think its important to have some kind of ” immediate” post hospital follow-up care for severe asthmatics. Even a phone call to see how you’re doing would help. Some of the Kaiser hospitals, to their credit, already do this.

Addendum : 4 hours after publishing this post, I actually received a phone call to see how I was doing. Not by the hospital personnel as you would expect, but from an understanding case worker from the insurance company . Needless to say, I was pleasantly surprised. The folks at Brown and Toland have their act together.

I’m not slamming any particular health organization or hospital for the lack of follow up care options for severe asthmatics, I’m just trying to bring attention to the fact, that there is often a prolonged and difficult recovery phase following an asthma hospitalization.
I have a pretty strong support network ( ie..this blog) , but many severe asthmatics don’t.

If this topic interests you, here are a few other posts Ive written in the past.