Your Hero, At Your Service (Apparently)

[elfs]

So, after our my last post, Omaha and I went to the Portland Art Museum where I got a good look at the riches of German princes and princesses from the 15th through the 19th century. It was quite amazing to see all of the riches and how they accumulated until the German Hesse Principality was positively decadent. There were table settings-- several of them-- that took an average of 15 man years to put together each.

We went to a lovely little pizza joint after that and Omaha opened up her laptop and checked the train schedule; we were able to get a signal from the cafe across the street. We were right on time. We arrived at the train station and Omaha, whose feet had been killing her from the walk through the museum, sent me into the line to get the seating passes. The line was long and went around a kiosk inside the station, but it moved quickly. As it came around the kiosk, I looked up to see if I could get Omaha's attention. Instead, there was a crowd standing around where she had been sitting, all looking at the ground.

Oh, frack.

I leapt out of line. "Excuse me," I said, pushing my way through the crowd of gawkers. "Excuse me," I said, tapping the station master who was leaning over her, trying to keep her on her back. Really stupid. "Excuse me! That's my wife!"

"Do you know... are you a friend?" he asked, not hearing.

"I'm her husband," I said. I pushed someone else out of the way, tore off my jacket and dropped it next to her head as I knelt beside her. "Okay, sweetheart, shock position." I grabbed her by her belt and her shoulders and rolled her onto her side, then shoved my jacket on her head so she wouldn't bounce it on the marble. I hooked one hand over the knee that was not against the ground and pulled it forward so she couldn't roll onto her belly. This lets the drool and blood run out of her mouth without choking her. I ran my thumb over her lips and then wiped it on my pants. Bright red. "You really bit yourself this time, huh?"

"She bit me!" the station master said. "I was trying to keep her teeth apart."

"Old advice," I said as I check Omaha's throat for an elevated pulse. She was okay. I glanced at his hand: he wasn't bleeding. "Doctors recommend you don't do anything; you'll just make it worse and this way, if anyone gets bit, it's only one person, the victim. Update your first-aid procedures."

"Is she diabetic?" Someone asked. "I have glucose."

"Epileptic," I said. The paramedics showed up and started to ask the same questions, only slightly more technical. I rattled off her condition: partial-complex epilepsy with grand-mal seziures, the medications I could remember her taking, the last time she took them. "Does this happen often?" the fellow doing the paperwork asked.

"Not as much as it used to. This is the first time in almost a year. We should be entering the horse-breathing phase." Right on schedule she started heaving deep from her chest through the phlegm in her throat. The paramedic looked at me and said, "You seem to know what's happening."

"Yeah. This is normal."

After ten minutes, Omaha recovered just enough to walk. The paramedics didn't want her to leave, insisting she should be in a hospital, but then it no longer mattered. The train pulled out without us.

Damn.

I called the baby sitter, then checked with the Grayhound station across the street, leaving Omaha with the paramedics. Both she and they insisted she'd be fine and they'd be a while. There was a bus in an hour and a half. Fair enough. I walked back to the train station.

I tried to get the tickets for the train reimbursed. "It's still here," the station master said. "It just pulled forward to the fueling station. It'll be a while before its tanks are full."

The paramedics were really unhappy to let us go. "We think she should be in a hospital." Both Omaha and I shook our heads. We didn't have time, and they would just tell her she had had a seziure, pat her on the head to remind her to take her meds, and send her home-- and we were trying to do just that! In a panicked hurry while we loaded Omaha into a wheelchair she insisted she didn't need-- but she still couldn't sign the discharge paperwork properly-- we ran for the train, and we made it.

The only seats on the train were in the bar. Not too bad. But then the guy next to us had his wireless headset on and was talking to about a million people, loudly and obnoxiously, pointedly ignoring signs that said "For longer conversations, please use the vestibule so as not to disturb other passengers."

We finally got our seats, but they were in the back of the train, far away from the bar. Because we had had to carry our luggage with us, the conductor led Omaha to the chairs and I went afterward. As I walked through the train, three different women (they were all women, oddly) stopped and told me what a "wonderful young man" I was for helping that poor woman. When I explained that "that poor woman" was my wife, they all asked the same question: how long had we been married? When I said "eighteen years," they all seem surprised, but then said that I was still a wonderful husband.

When I got to our seats, Omaha said she had had a similar experience, but with a twist: we both looked too young to have been married 18 years. She also told them that this happened from time to time, and that I must be a "wonderful husband," to stick around for so long and be so calm and compassionate about the experience. "He's a real hero," one insisted. Another confessed, "At first I thought she was O.D.ing."

Hell, I just wanted to get onto my train, but there's no fighting nature. At least we've got seats and she can take her post-seziure nap, which she is doing with a vengance. Oddly, she insists her tongue doesn't hurt that badly.

Comments

[ladyerin.livejournal.com]

Oy! what scarry thing to have happen. I had a friend in high school that had seziures, would always scare me because I didn't know what to do when she had them.

She was lucky you were there. Some of the worst first aid comes from well meaning people.

[hlmt.livejournal.com]

Scary indeed. You're both heroes, in my book...

[halloranelder.livejournal.com]

Ouch!

Having been with someone who's had that sort of attack, I know how scarey they can be. You are a true hero. Well done.

[elfs.livejournal.com]

"Well done" is usually about dealing with how other people deal with it when it happens in public. Omaha's epilepsy is cyclical, predictable, and harmless despite the dramatic writhing on the floor as if possessed. As long as she hasn't hit her head, she's going to be fine and there is literally nothing to do but keep people back. Well-meaning bystanders, misinterpreting bystanders, and medical personnel whose only job is to get you to the hospital just need to be kept away until she wakes up, which can sometimes take up to an hour.

[slfisher.livejournal.com]

Um, not to denigrate your actions or anything, but jeez, a *hero*? It's not like he saved her from a burning building or something.

I guess it just makes me sad that these people set the bar so low -- and what are their expectations, really? That somebody's going to divorce someone for being epileptic?

[riverheart.livejournal.com]

Given that my late husband told me he would divorce me if I developed cancer or any other life-threatening illness, and that my first husband told me that if he had known I would need glasses that he wouldn't have married me in the first place, yes.

Charles is different. I expect Elf is different. But low expectations have a reason.

[elfs.livejournal.com]

Apparently, one of the women Omaha talked to said something very similar: that they were "surprised" that we would still be together after so long with such a condition hanging over Omaha. I dunno; I was just doing my duty, y'know? I was mostly embarassed by the attention and annoyed by the delay, but neither of those was Omaha's fault.

[mothball-07.livejournal.com]

but neither of those was Omaha's fault.

THAT is what makes you special. The number of people who truly grok *and* embody this realization is woefully small. I feel so incredibly fortunate to have a higher percentage of such friends all the time.

As for the bystanders, they just saw something dramatic. From their perspective, you probably deal with this all the time, at a moment's notice. That *would* be stressful. Further, they likely drew all sorts of additional ASSumptions : that she can't have children, needs special care, etc. People are afraid of things they don't understand. From their perspective, they saw something that looked big and scary and dangerous, and they watched a loving husband care for his wife, and it probably made them feel good. They likely wanted to share that with you as an "atta boy."

I once had a friend sprain her ankle badly. Her husband refused to wash her undies, though the washer was down three flights of stairs. You, on the other hand, handled what looked like a serious medical issue, replete with embarrassing public scrutiny and the interruption of your plans with grace, aplomb and love.

*hugs to you both* I think it does take courage and heroism to make a marriage work these days, so even if they were a bit muddled on the details, they got it right in the end. ;)

[marketeer]

I was hit by a car as a pedestrian and ended up being out of work for two years afterward. The guy I'd dated for four years at that point and fully expected to marry got out of there so fast his shoes were smoking. It happens.

[slfisher.livejournal.com]

Oh, man, these are sad stories. Jeez. I'm sorry that y'all have been with such awful people.

[j5nn5r.livejournal.com]

someone will disagree but, you do your duty partly because of your heroic nature.

[drewkitty.livejournal.com]

Hmmm. Putting something in a seizing person's mouth is a really bad idea, generally speaking. I hope the bite will remind the station master to pay attention in his next first aid class.

The paramedics are paid and trained to assume the worst. I'm in EMT-I class right now, taught by working paramedics, and their attitude is "If we can talk you into going into the hospital, you should go there." Unspoken subtext: "Because I don't want to get sued."

Also, I can see how the urban paramedics would feel a bit strange about putting a seizure PT on a train ride, pumping up the response time considerably if something does go wrong. (I haven't pinned down anyone at Amtrak on this, but I believe the conductor radios the engineer, who contacts dispatch, and arranges for a trackside ambulance intercept. Of course, by that time you're out of town and dealing with a rural EMS service . . .)

Good job handling an obnoxious situation.

[drewkitty.livejournal.com]

Oh, and there is one thing a trained person can do for a seizing pt in the field other than protect head, neck and airway; and take a history and vitals. After the seizure stops and the person is trying to breathe normally, give oxygen at 12-15 LPM via non-rebreather mask. It shortens the postcital phase substantially, and given that it happens that way, is a reliable sign that this is a normal seizure.

There's a long checklist of "things that mean that a seizure is OK" as opposed to "things that mean that a seizure is NOT OK." At the top in big letters, big enough that even the First Aiders can read it (sort of), it says:

"Is this pt a known epileptic? Is there a friend or family member next to the pt who can give a history and asserts, without being prompted, that this is a 'normal' episode?"

. . . followed by a pile of advanced questions (all of which the paramedics almost certainly asked) like: "Was the seizure in a crowd or a warm room? From a standing position? Recent changes in meds or forgot to take meds? Was the seizure witnessed? Did the pt lie down suddenly prior to the seizure or tell witnesses that the pt had an aura? Did the pt hit their head?"

They're still going to say "You should really go to the emergency room" because that's their job, but they will do so in a slightly resigned fashion as opposed to the in-your-face "You could die if you don't go to the emergency room right now. Here, let me get the emergency room physician on the phone for you." or the ever popular "We'll just wait right here for you to pass out again, but by then it could be too late to save your life."

Bad seizure signs:

"Any chance of head injury? Never had a seizure before? Seizure does not stop after 4-6 minutes? OD or drug history? Illness [meningitis]? Unwitnessed seizure? Seizure from sitting position? No aura or mid-sentence collapse? Slurred speech during postcital? Stroke test for bilaterality fail?" And so on . . .

Paramedics have to remember an awful lot during a call. And most of the medics themselves are adult functioning ADD . . . bless their hearts.

Again, good job. I know that the EMS system functioned as a nuisance and handicap during your misadventure, but there are lifesaving reasons behind what they do and how they do it.

[elfs.livejournal.com]

Oh, I fully acknowledge that they're doing their job. The few times that we really have needed them, when Omaha hit her head or when she had one while riding her bicycle, they've been lifesavers. The problem is that I'm trying to do my duty at the same time, which is to not piss off my insurers, who really hate getting $600 transport bills for a pat on the head and two ibuprofen. That means firmly and calmly being the family member who can give the history, describe the incident as routine, and reassure the bystanders that not only will she be fine, she already is fine, and if you try and put that oxygen mask on her she may slug you.

And yes, they did manage the "slightly resigned fashion" with a perfect air.

[drewkitty.livejournal.com]

As far as I'm concerned, keeping a cool head to save the insurers $600 and keep the vacation on track (which was obviously the Correct Thing To Do in this case) -- when everyone else thinks it's a medical emergency -- is heroic in itself. So yes, even though no life needed saving, you're still a hero in my book.

Oh, yes, and we both know you're not in the slightest kidding about the oxygen mask slugging . . . I hate it when otherwise well trained EMTs shove an object over the face of a disoriented or, worse, difficulty breathing patient and they promptly panic and/or slug the EMT . . . you offer the mask, and when the pt realizes it helps, they latch on to it like a hangover cure on a Sunday morning . . .

[mo-hair.livejournal.com]

so sorry to hear about such a miserable interruption to your weekend. it must have been a "bad brain" time of the month as i had my first migraine in six freakin' years (so long that i had come to believe that child bearing had fixed my problem, and i had tossed my old migraine meds. omg- why itsn't sumatriptan otc by now?) thankfully it has been a good long time since her last seizure. i'm glad you're both ok.

[fallenpegasus]

What an unpleasant way to end your trip.

But, as a small favor, at least it was at the scheduled end of your stay that it happened, rather than at the beginning or middle.

I have to half wonder if there is a linkage between high-stimulation events and her grande mal seizures. This was a big high-stim trip for her. And the last time she had a big episode, it was a very short while after a different kind of scary high-stim event.

[lisakit.livejournal.com]

Oof. No matter how "routine" that must still be pretty scary. Glad she came out of it OK and it didn't disrupt you guys too much.