Thrombosis

The Wednesday after Labor Day, I noted that my right leg was giving me trouble. Nothing that a few more Acetaminophen couldn’t handle.

Thursday, the pain was worse. I could barely get around the block with Filbrix. When Carol got home, she laid down the law. If I was still having trouble the next day, I was to call my Primary Care Physician.

The pain was worse. I called the PCP’s office and told them what was happening. After consulting with his nurse, I was instructed to go to an imaging center as soon as was practical and have them scan my leg.

I called the recommended imaging center and was told that the soonest they could see me was mid-afternoon. If I needed to see someone sooner, there was another center across the street from Baylor McKinney.

I needed to see someone sooner. An appointment was set, I secured Filbrix, and was on my way.

The imaging center appeared to be well run. I was in an exam room within five minutes of my arrival, having an amicable chat with a young woman who was in training. I was in good enough spirits to give my standard answer to my date of birth (If your sweetheart didn’t get you something for this day, he or she really doesn’t care for – followed by the year) and then telling the woman I was “Thirty-Nine.” Neither the technician or the observer had a clue that I was referring to Jack Benny, so I explained the connection and we discussed more recent comedians. The technician revealed that his birthday was on the same day (different year) while he was doing his job.

At the end of the session, I was told that it looked like I had a blood clot. I was given a disc to give to a doctor when I had the opportunity, or when I got to the Emergency Room. I left the center and sat in the car waiting to see what I needed to do next. My PCP’s office was a good half-hour drive from where I was parked. On the other hand, the Emergency Room at Baylor McKinney was across the street.

It took about ten minutes of waiting in the car to get the call from the PCP’s office to go to the Emergency Room. It took another ten minutes to drive to the ER, park the car, and hobble inside.

Just the little bit of walking I had to do from point A to point B caused a considerable amount of pain. Triage, if you could call it that, consisted of my giving them the information they already had, having my vitals checked and allowing them to do bloodwork. Never mind that I had a readout from the imaging center across the street. I needed to sit and wait. And wait. And wait.

It didn’t take me long to figure out that a blood clot in the leg could break loose and head for my heart, putting it out of commission. The clot could have bypassed the heart and headed to my brain, giving me a stroke.

Still waiting.

Carol came by with a friend to give me aid and comfort. She was there for a couple of hours before going home to relieve Filbrix.

Finally, after a shift change, I was seen by a doctor. After what seemed like another hour or so of back and forth with more imaging, I was told that I indeed had blood clots, but the solution would be to put myself on a blood thinner until the problem went away… hopefully within a few months.

I got an initial dose of Eliquis and was told that I should have a prescription to pick up later the next day. With the drug came the instruction that I could no longer shave using a blade and shaving cream. (Sorry, Harry’s. You had to be sidelined.) I also had to be careful not to cut myself. This was, indeed serious.

I made it home nearly twelve hours after leaving the house. Much of that time spent waiting in the ER waiting area for them to call me in to see a doctor. I hate to think about what might have happened if one of the clots broke loose while I was there. Nearly a week later, a friend of mine had a bout of acute appendicitis. Went to the same ER and waited. And waited. And waited, until he passed out and hit his head on the floor.

Passing out and hitting his head got him sent to the head of the queue. Could have killed him. Thrombosis could have killed me.

I thought that I would be out of the woods once I got home. After another night of pain and restlessness I looked forward to Carol going over to the local chain drugstore to get Eliquis.

Once again, the chain had nothing available.

Time for plan “B”.

A call was made to the locally owned and operated apothecary in what passes for Downtown Princeton Texas. They didn’t have the full prescription available, but the pharmacist had enough to get me through the weekend until he could restock.

Guess where I am telling my doctors to send any future prescriptions!

There were a couple of other considerations having to do with my leg. Carol decided that I could get around a little better if I were to have a wheelchair at my disposal. Next day delivery from Wallyworld.[1]

I decided not to risk cutting myself with the Harry’s razors I had been using, so, I ordered a Norelco rotary shaver through Amazon. It came overnight.

I was in pretty good spirits when the wheelchair arrived, and I adapted to it relatively easily. By the time Sunday rolled around, I was confident enough to go to worship with Carol… telling people that I was only using the wheelchair to garner sympathy.[2] By the following week, the wheelchair mostly sat idle. Crutches were available, I was adept with the things to the point that I was able to go most places with little problem.

Two weeks after surgery and three days after my little trip to the Emergency Room, I had my follow-up with my Oncologist to find out about the next step in my journey.

---

[1] My term for Wal*Mart, even though two of my stepchildren are employed there.

[2] The line about using the wheelchair to garner sympathy was recycled from the Canadian TV series SCTV. The “Station Manager” used a wheelchair to get around, even though he could walk perfectly well – telling people that the reason he used the wheelchair was to garner sympathy.