I think it's his lung
I can’t even imagine it! I really can’t. Last September, I was having a lot of pain in my upper left clavicle. It went on for many weeks, and every day it seemed to get worse. I tried adjusting my sitting position while I worked. I continued to exercise, but nothing seemed to make it better. In these situations, I usually just let it pass and tend to think it’s just one of those mystery pains that we all get that goes away on its own.
“This too shall pass”
Spontaneous pneumothorax
Last March, I joined a group of people who focus on their upbringing and struggle with neglect, emotional neglect, abandonment, loss of childhood, family dysfunction, etc. The group’s solution is “being your own loving parent,” and in late September, on a Sunday night (on a Zoom call, of course), we were reading a book that discussed this very topic. I went to bed, got up, and went down to my computer to work as usual.
That afternoon the pain started again. I adjusted, squirmed, moved my chair, and was feeling a lot of pain. As I sat there, I heard a voice in my head that echoed the reading from the night before. This voice said, “What would a loving parent do for you in this situation?”. It was around two o’clock, and I got up, told my wife I was going to go to the doctor and get this pain checked out. No discussion, no hesitation. I just went.
The next indicated step
I have often gone to the doctor in the past with some mystery pain and been sent for x-rays with nothing to come of them. In this case, it seemed like the same scenario. I almost didn’t get the x-ray this time. The doctor sent me home and told me to get an x-ray when I could and that if I experienced more significant pain, I should go to the emergency room. I had work to do and didn’t want to push the deadline, but something compelled me to get the x-ray. Maybe it was the readings from the night before and the sense that I “should” take care of myself. I am not getting any younger after all.
So, I did! The x-rays took forever, and as the sun was setting, my friend called, and we talked while I waited for my text to come inside. I got the x-ray and went home thinking about the work I needed to present the following day. I worked a little and went to bed.
Do not pass GO
I was talking to a co-worker the following morning, and my wife opened the door and exclaimed, “The doctor wants you to call him, now!”. Having a doctor call me was very unusual, and I think you all know that doctors don’t usually contact you unless something is wrong or not in the right place. I called back, and the doctor said, “You need to go to the emergency room right now! Do not stop at the gas station or Starbucks. Go straight to the emergency room and tell them that you have a pneumothorax (collapsed lung).” I was stunned.
I did not feel short of breath or have any of the symptoms that would cause alarm. It was strange. I got to the hospital and went to the emergency room, and they didn’t seem concerned at all. Maybe they have heard it all before, but their lack of concern helped me feel more at ease. I was asked many questions during the intake and the one question they asked a few times was, “Are you sure you haven’t had any accidents?”. I was sure that I hadn’t. Almost positive. Until the second doctor asked the same question and followed it up with examples like, “Did you fall off a bike or a skateboard, etc.”. And, yes! I had stumbled off the back of my board while being pulled by my dog. It wasn’t even enough to recall. Honesty, it was so minimal that I forgot about it!
Down the hall and to the left
I was taken to a room and waited for an x-ray. The technicians came, the doctors reviewed, and the next thing I knew, I was being wheeled to get a CT scan and a vent put in my chest. The tone was changing, and they seemed concerned that I might be having a total collapse and that it may progress more. Maybe I should have been more concerned at that point, but I just wasn’t. It was scary, don’t get me wrong, but I knew I would be okay. I just knew that this was not “the end” and that I had more to do in the world—just a feeling.
I was wheeled to get a vent in my chest and looked up the procedure—no big deal. The radiologist uses the CT machine to guide the needle into the collapsed space and potentially send me home the next day. Easy-peasy-lemon-squeezy! Again, no concern. I knew what needed to be done and why, and I had every faith that they knew what they were doing. They perform multiple scans as they place the catheter/vent into place. They ask you to take deep breaths and hold them each time. After the second one is when they place the vent. The final scan is when they review the placement and determine if it’s in the cavity.
No rest for the wicked
After 12 hours in the emergency room, I was given a room, oxygen, and was admitted. I awoke the next morning and fully expected to be going home by check out. Like a costly hotel with shitty room service! I had lunch and waited for my release, and as I waited, I began to think about the 30 years of smoking, the smoking of other substances, the abuse I performed on my body with drinking and living hard. Though I had already quit nicotine almost five years ago, I knew it would catch up with me eventually. There is “a price to pay for everything,” and I was learning that lesson with a vent in my chest. After lunch, a group of doctors arrived in my room. One of them was a heart and lung specialist who had reviewed my case. I expected him to tell me that I would go home and not to think about smoking or vaping in my future (No worries! I have no plans for that ever again! Thank you very much!). Instead, he went on to tell me about my severe lung damage. I had blebs and bullae, and the diseased portion will need to be operated on, or I am one hundred percent likely to have another collapse or potentially die in the near future. It all sounded super scary at that point. After they left, I cried hard. I called my wife to tell her what I just learned, and she was just as shocked as I was.
The journey begins
The last two months have been a wild ride. I had a partial lobectomy operation; I continued to have lung collapses after the VATs surgery and stayed in the hospital for three weeks. I made it home and contracted COVID-19 a month later. That story will have to wait for another post, but for now, I wanted to answer the question that someone asked me on Facebook recently; Jane B. asked, “What causes a lung to collapse?”. In my case, it was a lot of things, and I had plenty of time to ask this question to myself while I stayed in the hospital. The following is my understanding of the answer to that question:
Body type: people with thin and slim/lanky frames tend to be more susceptible to collapsed lungs.
Smoking: Kind of a given, but the damage smoking causes to your lungs does not repair as quickly as one would like.
Vaping: I vaped for two years before I quit all nicotine, and the doctors all noted that this might be a reason for the advanced lung damage I had.
Drinking and drugging: So many issues to organs and can wreak havoc on your brain, bowels, lungs, kidneys, liver, etc.
ACEs (Adverse Childhood Experiences): The ACEs quiz/study is something to note as well. In my case, I was hit as a child and yelled at. I was exposed to violence, divorce, neglect, and general abuse. I scored high on this quiz with no resilience score. This can cause many other issues, and in my case, I was highly more likely to smoke, abuse alcohol and drugs, and develop COPD. All these things contributed to lung problems.
It is all an accumulated factor, and I happen to be one of those people. But! I also happened to be one of those people who listened to his body, took action to care for myself, followed through with my care, and kept the right attitude through it all. It was hard, but I don’t regret a single moment of it all. I learned a lot, and I came out of it better than I went in. I don’t recommend it, but I don’t regret it. And I got so many beautiful stories out of it :P — I hope to share them with you in the near future.
