With love, time is an extraordinary phenomenon. It dances to the tune of numbers, politics, and whatever meaning we assign to it. Time can feel like a limited commodity, a fleeting moment. I remember spending five hours on the emergency room floor, feeling as though I was participating in some kind of ancient African tribal ritual. I lay there, alternating between shivers and sweats, enduring it all for what felt like an eternity. In the end, all I received was a simple dose of Tylenol before retreating to a place where I could at least find solace in laying down and covering myself up when needed. The night stretched on, transforming into a battlefield of pain, with moments when I found myself screaming in agony, unintentionally terrifying my wife in the process.
When Things Get Really Bad
Imagine the pain of knowing that while the rest of your body continues to function, one of its most vital parts is shutting down, entering a protective mode. In those moments, screaming out was the only comfort I could seek. Time led us back to the ER, this time with a sense of purpose. I was aware that my temperature had reached dangerously high levels, pushing the boundaries of this precious thing we call life. But what is survival if there’s no life to preserve? It was like trying to survive while simultaneously dealing with life itself, and our reserves were running dangerously low. “WHOA” was all I could think.
Time Is An Extraordinary Phenomenon (with strength we had it beat) so we thought
I won’t bore you with the rest of the harrowing ER story. Let’s just say we didn’t leave until 3 am an time is an extraordinary phenomenon. We were informed that I had two different types of “itis” and a small kidney stone. That was challenging enough, but we felt we had the strength to overcome it. We were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead. They prescribed me Morphine and Zofran and sent me home at 3 am. You know those children who would always find the hidden pills, no matter how well you tried to disguise them in their food? Well, I was that child. I’ve never been a fan of pills, whether big or small, even in liquid form. But I took those Morphine and Zofran pills as if I were Ezelle from Friday, desperately trying to wash a windshield for some spare change. But nothing changed.
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My Wife Is My Super Hero
Over the past few months, the bond between my wife and me had grown in ways only our higher power could have orchestrated. So, of course, I woke up the next morning, still screaming through the night, but I had made it to the morning. My wife and I had a conversation where we laughed and cracked jokes, but I could see in her eyes that she saw it in my face—it wasn’t okay. Something had to be done. My temperature remained unyielding.
Then, the phone rang, and it was one of the nurses from the ER. She explained that there had been a misdiagnosis, and the severity was critical. There were more tests to be done, and I needed to see my primary care physician immediately. Another radiologist had reviewed the CT scan and found more cause for concern.
Flag Medical Center Saved My Life
Now, there are two parts to my story about Flagstaff Medical Center, but we’ll get to that later because this part isn’t about that. I will say this: there are genuinely exceptional individuals working on that hospital staff. They ensured that they provided as much information as possible before delivering the little bit of bad news they had to. I’m here today because of them. Nevertheless, I came dangerously close to losing my life. The doctor came in and told me that my temperature had remained constant since my arrival at the hospital and that I wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. I would be admitted to a room upstairs for further tests and a bit more comfort. At that moment, my wife, the superhero she is, shared a look with me, and I’m certain there was a similar look in my eyes. I told her, “I am walking out of this. Don’t worry; we’ve got this.” This time was different. When I finally lay down on the hospital bed in my room, waiting for the CT scan results, that’s when I began to wonder if I truly had this illness. Maybe, just maybe, I didn’t.
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