Thanks everyone for your support and especially to Kerri and Dr Wensel for staying in close contact during my 98th hospitalization. Thanks also to ALL the wonderful nurses who took care of me..You guys are awesome! Most of all, thank you to my dear Douglas who goes through hell every time I get sick. I’m so sorry I put him through this. Yes, living with a brittle asthmatic is definitely not for wimps.

Im starting to sound like a broken record with these hospital reports, but no kidding, this flare-up was no picnic. It ranks up there as one of the worse on record for me. On a scale of 1-10, probably an 8 or 9. I was pretty sick there for a while and was starting to have doubts as to whether I was actually going to pull through it. But it seems I have more lives than all my kitty cats put together and will apparently live to do this all over again sometime the future ( I just hope it’s not the near future).
Not sure what the trigger was this time, but I’m guessing that the cold I had from the previous hospitalization never quite went away. ( walking in the rain last week probably didn’t help either)

The primary problem this time, and what usually happens when I get really sick like this, is something called CO2 retention. The act (or work) of breathing becomes so hard, that the level of CO2 in my blood climbs really high ( what they call respiratory failure). I was in failure for 4 days with PCO2s ranging from 38 to 70 (when breathing at a rate of 50, that’s not good) My lungs get so tight, that I can’t move any air…I don’t even wheeze! When you listen to my lungs ,you can’t hear any air moving.

Because of all the problems I experienced with lack of sedation while I was on the ventilator the last time, I chose not to be intubated this time ( probably a mistake,because it would have immediately lowered my Co2). Instead , we relied mostly on cont alb nebs, bipap, and steroids to reduce my CO2 indirectly. Thanks to a call put out to Dr Wenzel ( who btw, was in London England at the time), a huge increase in my steroids was ordered along with a few other strategies she recommended, seemed to set the stage for my eventual improvement. Finally on the 3rd day with the increased steroids on board, my lungs started opening up , my work of breathing decreased, and my CO2 started to fall. By day #4 my PCO2 was back to normal and I was starting to wheeze again ( a good thing) . Ironically, while all this was all going on, I found out that there was actually a world-wide shortage of propofol. So even if I chose to be intubated, they would have probably used an alternative sedative agent. Weird huh

On day # 5 I was stable enough to be transferred out of the ICU to the step down unit where I continued to improve. On day #7 I was bugging them to let me go home. On day #8 I was paroled.

This time around I thought Id do something different and post some of the good pictures instead of the bad ones. Of course, I still have to include my battle scars pics. I must have been stabbed 50 times just to gain access to 2 functional IVs and one arterial line. My arms look like black,blue and green swiss cheese and are really really sore.

Today, Im breathing a little better, though my lungs sound like a washing machine during the wash cycle. Course and wet sounding wheezes that you can hear from across the street. Again, this is a good thing and means that my lungs are opening up. The danger is not quite over, as there is a possibility that I could rebound during the next few days, but I think for the most part, I’m over the proverbial hump. In any event, I can already tell that recovering from this exacerbation is going to be slow and difficult process.

This may not come as a big shock to everyone, but these recent flares have taken such a toll on my body, that a Boston victory seems unlikely. There’s just not enough time to regain the training Ive lost. Having said that, I’m not going to let asthma stop me from doing what I love. Boston may, or may not happen. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Just one final thought…..Though I may look happy in the pictures above, it was all for the camera. I’m a ham, no doubt, but I’m also human. These recent exacerbations( 3 hospitalizations in 3 months) have left me incredibly frustrated and down on myself. Steroid induced or not, right now I’m in a pretty deep depression that I’m not sure how long will take to climb out of. I’m not really sure that I even wanna continue blogging about my disease. I hate to be selfish, but lately, just the word “asthma” or the thoughts it provokes, make me wanna run and hide. If I seem slow to respond or update, please bare with me. Thank you everyone for being such good friends. We have built a huge community around our disease and are getting the word out. You should all be very proud.

Postscript 2-7-2010; I had no idea I would strike such a chord with my friends over my comment about not wanting to blog about my asthma anymore.
Don’t worry, I will definitely continue to blog and post on asthma support sites. Maybe not as often , and maybe not focusing as much on my own asthma, but I will definitely keep everyone up to date on what’s happening in my crazy world. I’m just really burnt out right now and I need to focus my attention on things other than my own breathing. Ive been blogging about my asthma and my declining health for 5 continuous years now. I don’t want to be one of those people who chronicles their own death(as noble as that may be). I need to start paying more homage to my idol, the King of the ballad , Mr Manilow. (I haven’t even seen his new show at the Paris Vegas yet.)
So NO worries…. I’m not going away, my life is way too fascinating to keep all to myself

Ever since I got out of the hospital for this last flare-up, Ive been noticing that when I take deep breaths in, I can hear (and feel) a slight inspiratory wheeze or airy sound coming from somewhere in my throat. More bothersome than the sound, I can actually feel some resistance as well. It feels like I’m breathing through a narrowed tube.

At first I thought that because I was weaning off the pred too fast, that my airways were rebelling by tightening up, but this sensation feels different than regular bronchospasm. Although very mild, it feels more like a permanent constricture in, or around the area of my vocal cords.

Well , after a week of trying to rule out possible causes, it finally dawned on me….. I probably have some kind of Tracheal Stenosis” or a vocal cord injury, related to my last intubation. I spoke with Dr W and she totally agreed with my assessment. An ENT doctor will have to look down my throat with a scope to confirm whether this is actually the problem, but I’m pretty confident it is. My only question is, is it my vocal cords that are jacked up, or is there some narrowing of the upper airway itself, and more important, can it be fixed?

From what little I know about this subject from working as an RT, Tracheal Stenosis is basically a narrowing of the trachea , either above or below the glottis, and is usually due to trauma caused when an Endotracheal tube is inserted in your windpipe ( Intubation).Although modern ET tubes are designed to be gentle on the airways, the physical presence of the breathing tube in your airway, can still cause damage and scarring to the surrounding tissue. The result, is swelling and/or thickening of that portion of the airway. The amount of time that the ET tube is in your airway is an important factor, as you’re more likely to develop a stenosis if you were intubated for a long period. But, that’s not always the case, especially when you’ve been intubated as many times as I have.

Up till now, this has been little more than an annoyance ,which only bothers me when I try to take a deep breath in. I am a little concerned however, that this could turn into a very serious problem the next time I have a major flare, so I just as soon get it checked and corrected as soon as possible.

I wasn’t going to post this, but I just couldn’t resist. Here’s the bill for my little New Years week stint at the local pokey.

For fun, I threw in one of the 12 pages of itemized charges to give you an idea how much individual things cost. Like for example, the Ventilator charge per day. Or how much the continuous nebulizer costs for the first hour, and then how much it costs for each additional HOUR. (Remember, I was on a continuous neb for 48+ hours!)

The cost of inpatient hospital care is just mind boggling.

Yes, I have medical insurance ( at least for now)

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.

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.

Before I begin, let me preface this post by saying that I haven’t made up my mind as to whether I would even want lung transplant surgery, should it ever get to that point. I wanted however, to see what some of my Pulmonologists views were on this subject, and to get a feel for what kind of support I would have in whatever treatment option I pursued.

So last week I got together with 3 of my UCSF Pulmonologists to discuss my SARP evaluation and Dr Wenzel’s recommendation that I consider lung transplant surgery in the future. I began the conversation by bringing up all the wonderful things that the SARP study was accomplishing, which seemed to put a smile on a everyone’s face. But, the minute I mentioned the “T” word, you could sense the tension in the air. You might even say, that tempers were starting to flare…including mine.

No Way! … are you even close to being a candidate for lung transplant surgery, was their general response. After all, you can walk marathons! ( yeah…like I didn’t see that one coming )
Even if my FEV1s were to totally bottom out and I was at the point where I was needing supplemental oxygen 24 hours a day, if I were still able to walk ….even just a 10K, I would not be eligible for new lungs. It just wouldn’t look right.

They went on to reassure me however, that even though I have extremely severe asthma, that my PFTs have been relatively stable over the past 4 years and that there’s no scientific evidence to suggest that people with severe disease plateau at a certain level and then suddenly experience a rapid deterioration . (I’m not an MD or a scientist, but I don’t totally agree with that last statement.)

Beyond whether or not I would meet the actual criteria for acceptance into a transplant program, I think their main concern, was that I somehow didn’t understand all the implications of having this life-altering , can’t- undo-it , type of procedure done . In their view , I would just be exchanging one set of problems for another. Though they agree that I would probably be breathing a lot easier after transplantation, there’s also a good chance that my life would be cut short. This is why they prefer you to be on deaths door before considering such radical treatment. Tissue rejection is still a huge problem in lung transplant recipients, as they haven’t quite figured a way to administer just the right amount of medication to prevent rejection, without killing the patient in the process.

They claim, that while there are a few miracle stories out there of people thriving and living long lives after receiving new lungs, the fact is, the vast majority of lung transplant recipients are not so lucky. The survival rate is still very dismal and pretty much a crap shoot. Only 2 out of 5 people will survive 5 years after transplant, and many of the people who do survive, are plagued with frequent life threatening infections due to weakened immune systems. You have to be on potent anti-rejection drugs for the rest of your life and will need constant medical monitoring. I’m not sure I like the idea of having to be around hospitals, anymore often than I am now.

OK, so I see their point about this being an option of last resort, and I appreciate all the concern . I don’t agree with all of it, but I understand it. I think the real reason I got the response I got, is because I have asthma as a diagnosis. There have only been a few asthmatics that have ever been transplanted. The fact that I don’t require supplemental oxygen ( yet) is a huge factor too. In every other way, my lungs are trashed, but Im able to oxygenate.

I guess I should be relieved that I’m not considered sick enough to warrant transplant surgery, but at the same time, when one of the most respected asthma doctors in the world, tells you that you should seriously consider it, I think it’s worth learning as much as you can about it , so that you’re better prepared if the time should come. And while my current feeling is that I wouldn’t want the surgery done, who knows how I’ll feel about it a year from now, or if I get to the point where I’m struggling for every breath.

That bit about “being able to walk marathons” really got me to thinking about just how misunderstood I am and how misinformed people can be. It felt as those they were using my incredible physical fitness achievements, against me. For some reason there’s this crazy notion, even among lung doctors, that people with severe lung disease are supposed to fit a certain mold.
My response to that would be… why would I even want to.

They agreed that we should revisit this issue again in 6 months. Maybe things will be different then.