How I Lost 15 Pounds Over Thanksgiving (A Personal Journey)
Author’s note:
This is the story of an event that happened to me over Thanksgiving 2021. I hope you recognize and enjoy the hope, humor, and joy that I experienced, as I moved through this medical issue. At the end of the story, I detail what I learned about life, and how I intend to use those lessons moving forward.
“What workout gear are you bringing to Kansas City?”
This was the last thing my wife Layla said to me before I collapsed on the floor the Wednesday afternoon before Thanksgiving. To provide some context, I need to explain what happened in the days leading up to Wednesday.
Contents
Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday
Late Sunday afternoon, I lifted the corner of a bed, and I felt a slight pain along my lower back and in my stomach, which became more of an issue into the evening. Muscle pull, I figured.
I prefer to avoid over the counter pain meds, but I had difficulty sleeping. I know we have ZZZQuil, why not try that? I glanced at the instructions on the bottle, but it didn’t register that the dose is for 12 hours- and it’s now 2am. I finally went to sleep.
Morning was a little rough.
I got up at 8:30am, fully expecting to start my day- possibly taking a nap later. I stood in the kitchen and attempted to have a conversation with Layla.
“What’s wrong with you?”
Busted- I had to explain taking ZZZQuil at 2am, and the fact that I didn’t read the instructions carefully. I was in a slight mental fog until- you guessed it- 2pm.
I workout at a Lifetime Fitness near my house each day, and I didn’t feel quite right. The back and stomach pain subsided, but I stated to lose my appetite. I did my normal workout classes Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday morning.
Wednesday afternoon
Layla’s family is in Kansas City, and we’ve spent Thanksgiving there for nearly 30 years. Our luggage was packed by the backdoor, so we could head to KC after work. That’s when Layla asked me about workout clothes.
I felt a huge pain in my stomach, and went down on the bedroom floor. We quickly decided to call an ambulance. As Layla went out to the driveway to meet the EMTs, I managed to move from the bedroom to the kitchen, and laid my head on the doggie bed, as the puppy stood over me.
Layla was startled to find me just inside the door.
The EMTs asked a number of questions, and speculated that I was passing a kidney stone. Sounded bad, but I knew people who had gone through the process. The EMTs helped me onto a stretcher and we headed for the Big Hospital. My primary care doctor was at Big Hospital, which is the only reason I chose it.
The ambulance trip
Before this event, I had a phobia about IVs, which I quickly forget about. As the EMT hooked me up, I said: “it’s my first time in a ambulance”.
Big Hospital is about 20 minutes from my house. Traffic was fairly heavy, as people were running errands or leaving town for the holiday. I realized that cars behind us could see me, but set aside the embarrassment.
Into the emergency room
I thanked the EMTs and they wheeled me in, setting in a hallway. The pain was becoming harder to manage, and I moaned every few minutes.
You’ll notice a number of lucky breaks throughout this story. One is that I was in the hospital in late November, before the Omicron COVID spike. The hospital rooms were mostly full, but the situation was manageable.
Some time went by- maybe 20 minutes- and I met my ER Doctor. He started me on morphine and told me that he was scheduling a CAT scan as soon as possible. OK, we’re making progress, I thought.
The paperwork
A well-dressed African-American man in his 40s came by. Black slacks, plaid jacket, expensive glasses frames- how can a guy in an ER look this good?
I struggled to get my driver’s license and insurance card out of my wallet (try it laying on a stretcher hooked up to an IV). “OK Mr. Boyd, all I need you to do is acknowledge what we’ve talked about my signing this pad with your finger.”
I tried twice, moaning in between. No luck.
“Oh, wait- the pad is upside down. Sorry!”
He smiled after I signed, and headed down the hall.
Getting the CAT scan
I owe a big debt of thanks to the man and woman who handled the CAT scan. The pain entering the room was becoming more intense.
“OK, we need to lay you flat on the machine.”
I can’t do it, I said.
“It will only take three minutes. We’ll make it quick- promise.”
Sparing some of the details, and pain was almost too much to bear. I moaning became more of a yell as a lay flat and held my arms over my head. As the staffers got me back on the stretcher- I apologized (I think).
When they wheeled me back into the hall I thought: I bet this amount of noise will get me into a room….
Some time passed- I don’t know how long – and I was taken into a room where Layla was waiting.
Wednesday evening
The ER Doctor came in. “The morphine doesn’t seem to be enough for your pain, so we’re going to put you on something stronger.”
There are drugs stronger than morphine?,
Turns out that fentanyl and other drugs are used in these circumstances. Finally, the pain began to decrease.
Layla never fails to look cute and put together in situations, including the hospital. She had already been putting out the Bat Signal to friends and family, including those we were supposed to meet in KC.
Another break: I could not have had a better Surgeon.
The Surgeon came in and explained what he needed to do, based on the CAT scan. My mind was hazy, but I did catch that I was “pretty ill” and that several things needed to be done (more on that later). Surgery was being planned for the next few hours.
The family
Layla and I have three kids. Kaitlin (30) in Denver, Connor (27) in NYC, and Meaghan (22) a Senior at Kansas- where Layla and I went to college. (We love her most, since she is the only child that picked our college).
We talked to the kids, and with two of Patty’s sisters in KC. We laughed that we were introverts, and that we were using surgery as an excuse to be by ourselves. JOMO: Joy Of Missing Out.
Surgery prep
Next, the Anesthesiologist came by- turns out he went to Kansas for undergrad. He told Layla that I could have a “range of outcomes”, depending on what the surgeon needed to do.
I changed out of the clothes for surgery- and found my Airpods in my pocket. Somehow, they had survived the ambulance ride, stretcher, and the CAT scan.
My Nurse Anesthetist was a woman in her 50s, who I immediately liked. Relaxed with a sense of humor, she had a Thanksgiving- themed hat. “I changed them up for every holiday”, she said.
Finally, I was wheeled into an elevator and taken up to surgery. Layla was shown into a waiting room, while I waited and met several surgery nurses. With Layla gone, I was surprised to notice that I didn’t feel anxiety about surgery. Every person I met was great, and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop the process, anyway.
In surgery
I’m wheeled into surgery- wow, the lights are bright. I count three pleasant-looking faces, along with the Nurse Anesthetist. They move me on to a narrow operating table. “Am I going to fall off the side- it’s so narrow?” They laughed.
My next memory- after surgery- is vague. I briefly see five people standing over me- why five? Just how serious is this? It felt like a NASCAR pit crew.
The procedure
Simply put, the Surgeon needed to fix three problems. My appendix was so infected that it was gangrene, which Mayo Clinic defines as “death of body tissue due to a lack of blood flow or serious bacterial infection.” The appendix perforated, and put holes in my colon and small intestine. Gross, I know.
The Surgeon removed my appendix, repair the holes, and got the waste out of my body cavity that built up from the damage. Lots of toxins, lots of problems. Fortunately, surgery did not cut through muscle- just 4-5 holes above and below my belly button.
Hospital room
When I woke up, I had a tube in my nose draining fluid, a tube in my side also draining fluid, a catheter, and an IV. The hospital stay was one big effort to get any remaining toxins out of my body, and to prevent infection.
Now, it’s important to point out that I was certainly uncomfortable, but not in a great deal of pain post-surgery. Moving those first few days was painful, but manageable. I had a six-inch long incision on my stomach that was packed with gauze.
By this time, it was 9:30 or 10pm. Layla offered to spend the night, and I asked her to go home and get some rest, where she could be comfortable. A night nurse was on duty. She said: “happy thanksgiving”, turned off the lights, and shut the door.
The only light was from the computer screen in the corner, and the small lights on the IV pole.
The hallucination
One more definition: a hallucination is defined as: “an experience involving the apparent perception of something not present.” As soon as the nurse shut the door I experienced something strange.
Imagine that you’re sitting in someone’s living room on a four-sided couch. You’re facing a section of the couch across from you, and on each side.
Above my bed I saw a group of people sitting on couches, life-size people. They were each leaning toward me with a wrapped gift. I had the sense that the gifts were for me. Each person had a mask on with a colorful drawing of an animal: one was a tiger, one a lion, etc.
It felt strange but not scary- and it disappeared in a few minutes.
Prayer and conversations
I have a list of people that I pray for, and I started through my list as I lay there that first night. It took my mind off my discomfort, and prayer was a great tool during my hospital stay.
I’m also a person who likes to engage with people, and I always said hello to each person who entered my room. Nurses came in periodically to check my vitals, ask about my pain level, and to draw blood (so much for that phobia).
The hospital vibe was very different at night: quiet, less noise and drama. Many on the night staff were young and had to work nights, but a good number said that they preferred it. I’d ask how things were going, or how many patients they had.
Thanksgiving Day
Well, I guess I should watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade.
I decided on a few rules while at the hospital. Once I got up for the day, I sat in a reclining chair next to the bed- and didn’t get back in bed until bedtime. Getting out of bed was really challenging those first few days. The wound was still new, and I was hooked up to four different tubes.
Other than bits of football and basketball games, I kept the TV off and either read or listened to podcasts.
Walking the halls
The other rule was to walk the halls, based on the nurse’s instructions- 3 times a day to start. I would hold the IV stand and one tube connection, while Layla would hold the two others. A very slow shuffle to start with, but getting out of the room made me feel less isolated.
I was on the 6th floor of Big Hospital. Layla and I would pause and look at the view as I walk my laps. The first time I saw myself in the reflection was startling: my weight loss, and all the tubes made me look frail- am I getting old? I try to never ask that question.
During my weeklong stay, I did not see another patient out walking the halls. Every room was filled, but I noticed most people lying in bed when I walked by. The nurses told me that getting patients to move was a struggle- and set back their recovery. Obesity was also an issue- many patients were heavy.
FaceTime to the family
Around 11am, Layla and I decided to FaceTime the relatives in KC. I noticed a lot of concerned looks as I explained what happened, and that we missed being there. Maybe video was a bad idea…
The rest of my hospital stay
In addition to prayer, I also used breathing and meditation tools that my yoga instructors teach. I had blood drawn daily, and my wound repacked with gauze several times a day. Both tasks were uncomfortable, so I would quietly breath deeply and focus on positive images. Maybe not so quiet- one nurse asked me: “why are you breathing so hard?”
The veteran nurses
I had two veteran day nurses who cared for me during the first 4-5 days. Hard-working, funny, passionate about their jobs. They also had student nurses who shadowed them most days.
Veterans have to teach new people in any profession, and my condition provided a good opportunity to learn. Generally, things went fine. There was one time when a trainee could not get an IV in place- took a few tries. I was cringing, but kept my mount shut.
My phone rang while the nurse was in the room- and before Layla arrived one day. My iPhone announced “Layla” and I had a short conversation. Later that day, the nurse told Patty (my wife’s real name) that I had talked to Layla. We had to explain that it was not my secret lover, just my wife.
Setting aside modesty
Nurses and Doctors have a job to do, and I had to set aside modesty to let them do it. I wound was above and below my belly button, so I was naked from the waist down when anyone looked at the wound or changed the dressing.
Often, I’d be naked and a nurse would say: “Oh- I forgot something. Be right back.” Layla and I started to count the number of times I was left naked as someone got supplies. We laughed about it.
When I was able to shower, it started with sitting on a bench with tubes covered, and Layla washing me, then drying me off. Nothing was left to the imagination.
Nurses would note the risks that the surgeon was able to minimize. I heard “he’s great- I would have him operate on a family member” more than once. The Surgeon and his Nurse Practitioner visited each morning, and I was impressed about how much he relied on the opinion of the nurse.
More clues about the illness
I got a number of comments about the seriousness of my surgery those first few days. As new people came into see me, they would sometimes mention reading my chart, and how fortunate I was. Younger people were more direct: “I read your chart- I’m surprised you’re still alive!”
I took it as a compliment.
Visitors
COVID limited visitors to Layla and one other person each day. Visitors lifted my spirits and helped me feel less isolated. I got texts and phone calls from a number of people, and my kids called periodically.
Layla was the constant- spending nearly 12 hours with me everyday. She never complained, and held down the fort at home. We enjoyed and valued the time together- a lot of laughter.
We’re practicing Catholics, but I passed on asking one of our parish Priests to visit. Priests are overwhelmed with requests, and I had plenty of people supporting me.
During one walk, we ran into a young Priest leaving another patient’s room, and he volunteered to come by and give me Anointing of the Sick. I regretted not getting this blessing before surgery, but asking for a Priest wasn’t top of mind, given how quickly I moved from ER to surgery.
The Priest began: “A reading from James: Is anyone among you sick?”
I started to cry as he read. After reading the passage, he blessed me with oil on my hands and forehead. I thought about how lucky I was- in so many ways- and how prayer had been such a great tool during tough times.
Moving toward release
The surgery and medication slowed down a lot of normal functions that gradually came back. Over time, I was able to urinate on my own, have a normal bowel movement, and I started eating again.
With the loss of appetite starting on Monday before the holiday, I didn’t eat solid food for over a week. Hospital food was not appealing- I felt bad turning down the food staff each day- but Layla brought in Panera.
Over time, all the tubes were removed, the most uncomfortable was the tube in my side. As the Nurse Practitioner reminded me after it was out: “Some people pass out when I remove these.” Do I get a gold star for the day?
Back home
I was released one week after surgery. Putting on clothes felt strange, and I was still weak when I got home. My dog was happy to see me- but isn’t that always the case? Layla had the unpleasant job of cleaning and repacking my wound for about 3 weeks, and I wore a binder around my waist to help with healing.
I had a number of “what if things hadn’t gone well” moments, but tried to ignore them. Shortly after getting home, George Harrison’s “My Sweet Lord” came up on my Spotify playlist. Cried alittle. It’s no coincidence that the album title is “All Things Must Pass”.
I had weekly office visits with my Surgeon. Six weeks after surgery, he shook my hand and told me that no further visits were necessary. I thanked him for saving my life.
What I learned
I was leaving church and walked by a light switch with a label above the switch. I thought the label read “after life”, but it said “alter light”.
So, since I’m not in the after life yet, what have I learned?
- You can find joy and humor in any situation (at least I tried)
- Prayer and yoga breathing can make a difference with you’re under stress
- Be kind to the people you encounter in a hospital- it makes their difficult jobs easier
- Life is precious, hug your loved ones, be present
As my favorite prayer says: “I ask for all things that I might enjoy life. I was given life that I might enjoy all things.”
Good luck