Even bad days sometimes end well

My brother Bob might point out to me that I am off subject with today's blog entry, but I'd argue that he's wrong.  Even though the story itself isn't directly about the kids, their lives could easily have been so profoundly different today than they were just a week ago, so this story is totally about them - about what they have and what they could have lost.

A week ago, Rich flew back from a business trip to Alaska; the next morning, we left for Erie and the 32nd annual Presque Isle Half-Marathon.  I've been inspired by his discipline in training, in awe of the speed he has in covering such a long distance.  Having run one of these myself, I know that it's no easy feat to prepare for or run one and I was excited for him and what he was about to accomplish.

As has been the case for much of the past two weeks, it was hot and humid on race day, but with the start time set for 7:30am, the runners would avoid the worst of the day's temperatures.  I didn't run the half itself, but I did run for close to an hour before heading over to watch the runners finish. No doubt that even at this early hour, it was hot.

Rich had been having problems with his lower leg the last few weeks of his training program and certainly had some jet lag to contend with, but he planned to run an eight minute pace - something he was conditioned for and perfectly capable of doing... I expected him to cross the finish line somewhere around 1:45 to 1:50.

That time came and went.  I thought his leg must have been bothering him more than he let on early in the day.  I was surprised that he still hadn't crossed at the 2:00 mark... by 2:15, I was concerned.  And that is when my cell phone let me know that I had a voice message.

Within minutes, I was on my way to the Emergency Room at Hamot Medical Center, knowing only that Rich had passed out during the race but was now answering questions appropriately. 

When I got there, he was a mess... there's just no other way to say it. He was hot (103 degrees), covered with ice packs (and lots and lots of sand), four liters of IV fluids pouring into two IV sites, alternating between throwing up and dry heaves. And his memory was shot, though in many ways, that is a good thing.  I wouldn't want to remember that either. 

The very unsurprising diagnosis: heat stroke.

As the fluids in his body were replenished (he got over nine liters before his discharge), his temperature came down, the dry heaves went away (though that probably had something to do with the very expensive medicine they gave him for nausea), his ability to recall both short-term and long-term details got much, much better. Within an hour of my arrival, he was like a different person.

Some people show signs of heat exhaustion before progressing to heat stroke: things like nausea and vomiting, weakness, fatigue, cramping, dizziness.  He had none of these.  In fact, he told me later that he remembers thinking he had about 10 minutes left to run (meaning he was about 1 1/4 miles out) and felt good enough that he planned to pick up the pace a little as he was closing in on the finish line.

He never had a dry mouth, never stopped sweating, had no alterations in his mental status (at least not until he hit the ground). I read after the fact that some people can develop symptoms of heat stroke suddenly and without warning and that was clearly the case for my husband.  I find it pretty scary to think that he could get into that kind of trouble without any warning.

The reality of the situation is that heat stroke is a true medical emergency that is often fatal if not properly and promptly treated. And so I am grateful to the race officials and Millcreek paramedics who treated Rich in the field and got him to the hospital.  I'm grateful to doctors and nurses who took care of him, got him re-hydrated, got his temperature down.  I'm grateful to my mother-in-law who looked after my kids so I could be where I needed to be.

Once Rich was stabilized and ready to be transferred to a room (elevated cardiac enzymes from muscle breakdown, strain on the kidneys, etc. buys you an overnight on the cardiac floor, just in case it's something more), I went back to my in-law's house to shower, see the kids and give them a chance to come down and see that their daddy was OK.  Matt came along but Cathy didn't want to... Rich and I both wonder if that has anything to do with her own medical experiences the last five years? 

Of all the images I have from the weekend, here's the one that I hope will always stick with me: Matt curled up in bed next to Rich, head on his shoulder and watching TV.  Matt is still always affectionate with me, but not often with Rich and there was just something so sweet in that moment. 

I'm interested to see how this experience changes Rich.  I see that he has a different appreciation for things now than he might have even a week ago, that he recognizes that life is short and fragile.  And I hope he knows that I appreciate the conversations and the things that he's told me since.  

Last Sunday would have been my dad's 84th birthday.  I like to think that if someone in heaven was looking out for Rich on that day, maybe it was Dad, looking out for his family.  

Thanks, Dad.