Читать книгу Diagnosis: Heart Attack - Karla Weller - Страница 7

November 2011–January 2012 Neurological Clinic, Bavarian Alps

My mother and I drove there directly from home, in our own car, and waited in the hospital ward for Gerd’s arrival, which was delayed for hours. Naturally, I immediately regretted not accompanying him in the ambulance, but how would I have gotten back home later? Unfortunately, my mom never had a driver’s license herself. Due to a rare eye disease in her younger years, she never passed the requested visual test.

I didn’t muster the courage to ask the two paramedics why they had needed so long to get there. Gerd had been transported wearing only a hospital gown and his body was ice cold when he was finally lying in his new bed after a transportation time of more than three hours. Although he still wasn’t completely conscious, he screamed in pain and fear. The situation was gruesome and inhumane for all of us.

At the rehabilitation clinic, he was given his own room with a balcony, but the room wasn’t equipped for intensive care at all. I was very worried about how Gerd could even be monitored and fully cared for here.

But the worst was still before us. After a while, two neurologists appeared and spoke to Gerd with loud voices, “Sorry, Sir, but since you won’t talk to us, we have to annoy you a bit to see if you’re even feeling anything!” and then they took turns pinching Gerd’s shins!

At this point I just wanted to take my husband and flee the hospital right away, but again I didn’t have the courage!

At least, it got better later. The nurses were very friendly and caring, talked to him quietly and made a good impression on me.

Once his room was equipped with a monitor for observing Gerd’s vitals from the nurses’ station, I calmed down. For the first time, Gerd was fed via the new gastric feeding tube. When my mother and I left a few hours later, he was lying peacefully in his new bed.

Later that day, as I lay in bed myself, my thoughts were of course with Gerd. What awaited him at the new clinic? What progress could be expected? How would he fare? Was he being well taken care of? Who was taking care of him when I wasn’t there?

I still had to go to work every day and that meant driving fifteen miles to work and then, in the evening, all the way back to the Bavarian Alps. It was winter time so I had to spend several hours on the road each time and it wouldn’t be possible for me to visit Gerd every day during the week anymore. I poured all of my worries into my evening prayers which, of course, included the best wishes for Gerd’s recovery. This personal conversation with God allowed me to finally find peace and fall sound asleep.

When I awoke the next morning, I naturally wanted to know how Gerd had coped his first night in the new environment, but at the same time, I was afraid to call the clinic and hear the news. I mustered all of my courage and dialed the ward’s number. The response was far too short and matter-of-fact. Gerd had had a very restless night; otherwise, there was nothing to report.

That weekend, I went to the clinic early in the morning and was just about to go into his room, when a nurse pulled me aside. “Don’t be frightened Mrs. Kaehler, there’s news! This morning, when I went into his room to open the curtains, I said, ‘Good morning, Mr. Kaehler!’ like I always do, and was completely dumbfounded when I heard him respond, ‘Good morning!’ Gerd had sat up in bed on his own and responded to her greeting! She was so shocked; she had to sit down on a chair herself. “It was a situation that felt like someone had awakened from the dead!” It was the very first time since his heart attack, nearly four weeks prior, that Gerd had said anything comprehensible; and of all things after the gastric feeding tube procedure and the terrible ambulance transport the day before! That he even found the strength to sit up all by himself, simply was beyond imagination.

Completely overjoyed I hurried into the hospital room, but when I actually saw Gerd sitting up in bed, it hit me like a lightning bolt and I was only able to run out of the room before I fell to my knees in the hall, sobbing. Two nurses were immediately at my side supporting me. They didn’t try to persuade me to go back into the room, but instead understood that this new situation had literally knocked me over!

When I was finally able to approach Gerd, I realized this wasn’t the person I had expected. Outwardly, he looked like Gerd; he even looked fairly good. His facial expression was relaxed, betraying the stress he had endured over the last four weeks. But Gerd reacted like a stranger. His responses were uncertain and reserved.

For sure, he just had to get used to the new surroundings and that would certainly take some time, I tried to convince myself.

But it was far more than that. Gerd had left this world on October 25 and had now returned more or less involuntarily. He looked very distant and didn’t seem happy at all to be conscious again. Bit-by-bit, we learned more about his condition, without really understanding it. It was a good thing that he even recognized me. The doctor later told me there was a very good chance he wouldn’t remember anyone.

Gerd had no recollection of his heart attack at all. When we told him about it, he listened, amazed, and kept saying, “I don’t remember that at all. I just can’t remember.” And not just the day on which he’d had the heart attack; he couldn’t recall several years prior.

When the neurologist asked how old he was, he said he was thirty-five and lived in Tecumseh, Michigan. So he was living in a time when we had immigrated to the USA and our son was born. Apparently, he had particularly fond memories of that time, into which he kept fleeing. Thus, he often spoke to the nurses in English. Usually when he didn’t like something, he preferred to express his displeasure in English.

It was a true miracle he’d had the strength to sit up without help. But yet it was very painful for him to turn over.

Tests were ordered which showed several ribs had been broken during CPR. No one had paid attention to it thus far, so it was very good luck none of his broken ribs had perforated his lung!

Again we realized that Gerd had escaped death more than once, not just during the heart attack, but several times thereafter, for instance, the internal bleeding after the stent operation, the bilateral pneumonia, the high fever, the brain swelling, and now the broken ribs. It became clearer and clearer that there had to be a reason why Gerd was still on this Earth. And now his consciousness was fleeing to a happier time!

That day, Doreen Virtue posted this card online:

“Your card for today is reassuring you that there is a purpose, blessing, and lesson within every experience in your life. The painful experiences have changed your life, and hopefully you have come to terms with lessons and forgiveness, so that you don’t stay stuck in fear or anger. Once we learn the lesson of a repeated situation, we never have to experience that situation again. What have you learned in your life that has helped you to make peace with some of the painful experiences that you’ve gone through? Your past could help someone else who still needs to understand that important life lesson.”

Doreen Virtue

The past few weeks of hope and worry had sapped my energy. While I had tried to obtain the best treatment for Gerd and continued to work full time, my eating and sleeping habits had become rather unhealthy. I was physically drained and exhausted.

Even worse, I had completely neglected Justin. Instead of taking care of him, he supported and kept me stable while, in contrast, he never spoke about his own feelings.

Once again, it was about time to go see my healer. While working with the energies, Mrs. Sigler realized how badly Gerd was doing and how my health had suffered under the whole situation and therefore she advised me to “leave his body to the doctors and live your own life.”

I knew she meant well, but this statement shocked me and I couldn’t accept it at all.

As Justin and I drove home from the clinic on Christmas Eve 2011, we remained both very quiet and spoke very little. We felt very sad because we had to leave Gerd at the hospital and couldn’t celebrate Christmas at home with him. That night, I had to pay special attention to the road. Ice and snow made the ride extremely difficult and tiring. As we drove out of a small forest, Justin suddenly discovered a shiny comet in the night sky! We were excited about this glowing sign of holy night and took comfort and new courage.

In order to gain some distance and think more clearly, I dared flying to the USA the day after Christmas to visit my daughter, Daniela, who was still completing her internship abroad in Chicago. She lived in a small company-paid apartment in Schaumberg, IL, equipped with kitchen, desk, bed and bathroom which was furnished more for practicality than aesthetics. But the queen-sized bed was big enough for both of us.

Daniela also had a company car at her disposal and therefore she was able to pick me up at the airport. While eating a small dinner, I reported on Gerd’s progress in detail before we went to bed early.

In the days that followed, we had breakfast together and when she had to go to work, she would let me out somewhere on her way or I would simply walk over to the mall which stood only a few hundred yards from the apartment complex. It was windy and an icy cold had a grip on the city, so I had to dress warmly every time I left the house to go somewhere. After all, there’s a reason Chicago is called the “Windy City”.

When Daniela’s schedule allowed, we would meet for lunch or, at the latest, for dinner.

So I spent a few wonderful days in Illinois doing various activities and yet I still had sufficient opportunity to relax and get my thoughts in order while I knew Gerd was being well taken care of at the rehabilitation clinic.

My joy was complete when we discovered the “Grand Lux Café” where Gerd and I had eaten years before on the Magnificent Mile on Michigan Avenue! I hadn’t expected the restaurant to even exist anymore, so Daniela and I spontaneously decided to eat there on New Year’s Eve and then go watch the fireworks on the pier. Even though it was too late to make a reservation already, we were lucky and got a lovely table by the window directly overlooking the Magnificent Mile!

As I enjoyed the Christmas lights and watched the people hurrying by outside on the street, a few tears ran down my face because dear Gerd couldn’t be with us this time.

A few days after I returned, a friend of mine told me about Mrs. Heinz who practiced energetic spinal adjustment. I got in touch with the practitioner and explained Gerd’s situation to her. Since he wasn’t in the condition to go see Mrs. Heinz at her office, I was thrilled when she said she would be willing to visit Gerd at the rehabilitation clinic to see if she could help him.

We made an appointment for the following Saturday. I arrived there a few hours prior to the time agreed and was truly astonished when the chief physician personally appeared in Gerd’s room that early in the morning. After all, it was the weekend! Somehow, the professor must have heard about our plans and was curious to see what we were up to do with his patient.

I hoped and prayed he would leave the ward before Mrs. Heinz arrived. Although we certainly weren’t planning anything nefarious, it suddenly felt like a conspiracy.

Somehow, the practitioner managed to spend a few minutes alone with Gerd. When she approached his bed, he had his back turned and his eyes closed. We couldn’t tell if he was asleep or just dozing. Mrs. Heinz stood behind him and held her hands over Gerd’s chest and head without touching him, when Gerd suddenly took a deep breath, exhaled forcefully through his mouth and opened his eyes. I was startled with surprise. But Mrs. Heinz was beaming and said the fact that he reacted so severely to the energy she had given him meant he was starting to heal. We could expect significant progress over the next six months!

After the treatment, Gerd slept deeply for several hours and I was blissful.

“Our intellect can tell us what we should better leave. But our hearts can tell us what we have to do.”

Joseph Joubert

To me, the next logical step was to remove the tube from his stomach and start getting Gerd used to eating and drinking regular food and water. Unfortunately, my opinion led to an argument with the chief physician. From his medical point of view, he found it essential for Gerd to continue artificially feeding because that was the only way to determine how much food and, in particular, fluids, Gerd had consumed every day. I explained to him how Gerd must feel not having had anything to drink for weeks; that the mucus membranes in his mouth and throat were completely dried out. And enjoying a delicious meal had always meant to me an increase in quality in life.

But he was convinced Gerd was doing fine and the chance of choking and causing another lung infection was way too much of a risk!

Since I knew that food and drink had always been one of Gerd’s favorites, I insisted they’d give it a try, and the chief physician supervised personally! He fed Gerd, who was strapped to a wheelchair, a spoonful of yogurt while a nurse and I watched in suspense. Gerd clearly enjoyed the taste and had no problems chewing and swallowing! As though he wanted to prove me wrong, now the doctor fed Gerd several spoonsful of yogurt at shorter and shorter intervals, but still Gerd easily ate the food he was fed and clearly enjoyed the change. He even made a few happy sounds and smacked his tongue. “Mmmm! Good!”

Almost annoyed, the doctor gruffly placed the cup of yogurt and the spoon on the table and left the nurse and me alone in the hospital room with Gerd.

On the contrary, the outcomes of the neurological examinations were less pleasant as they indicated Gerd was blind! I could hardly believe that, because when someone spoke to him, he always turned his head in the direction of the speaker. His blue eyes seemed so alive they gave the impression he could see. Unfortunately, the test results were very distinct and left no room for speculation nor hope for improvement.

But there was even more to deal with. As often as we could, we moved Gerd from his hospital bed to a wheelchair and took him for a little ride right through the numerous buildings of the clinic, where we would usually end up at the small self-service cafeteria.

Whenever Gerd heard the sound of the automated coffee machine, his ears would perk up, he would turn his head in that direction and start tapping on the surface of the wheelchair tray table as though he were programming a machine.

I wasn’t sure if I should consider this reaction good or bad. On the one hand, any reaction to his environment was a good thing, but on the other, it showed how connected Gerd was to his job that it even had become instinct. He clearly knew what to do when it came to machines, but couldn’t recognize that he wasn’t at work, but in an early rehabilitation clinic, strapped to a wheelchair! The degree to which Gerd was helplessly trapped in a complex situation remained unclear to outsiders and frightened me in particular!

So I tried to think of alternative ways how to use Gerd’s instinctive reactions for his brain’s rehab and considered bringing a kid’s laptop to the hospital, that Justin had played with years ago.

The display showed pictures and figures and one was supposed to say their names aloud. Or it said English words which the person would repeat in German and vice-versa. Intuitively I thought it would be good training. But then I started questioning everything: what if Gerd was insulted by me bringing him a child’s toy, or even worse, what if Gerd couldn’t operate the child’s toy after all?

Nevertheless, I dug out the yellow-red colored laptop from the garage. It even still worked perfectly after all these years! I tried out a few programs and everything went smoothly. I almost wished the stupid thing had been broken, since that would have made the whole matter moot. Should I take it to the clinic or leave it? Could I handle the disappointment if Gerd couldn’t handle the toy?

A few days later, Gerd’s hiking friends came to visit. They had driven to the Alps with mixed feelings and high expectations. They must have felt a bit melancholy on the drive, since they had just driven the stretch with Gerd a few months prior to go hiking in the mountains and spend a weekend of camaraderie together. This time, they even brought alcohol-free beer with them as a treat for Gerd.

No one ever told me exactly what happened that weekend, but his friends had not been prepared to see Gerd like that. Sure, they knew he needed help, but the fact that his disabilities were so complex was hard for his friends to cope with and very few of them were able to handle it at all.

Even worse, Gerd couldn’t remember his friends’ visit later on. When I asked him if he’d had visitors, he denied. Had his friends given him a gift? What had they talked about? He responded no to all of my questions and when I tried to press him, he only grew angry.

A few weekends later, Gerd received a visit from his friend and supervisor, Robert. He arrived with two huge bouquets of flowers together with get well cards signed by Gerd’s colleagues and the management.

I had encouraged Robert to visit Gerd in the hospital earlier, but he always used the excuse that only close relatives were allowed in the intensive care unit. Robert had experienced his own “ground zero” a few years ago when he was in a coma for a couple of days after having a stroke. So he knew approximately what to expect with Gerd. Now the time had come for Robert to face his own fears and visit his friend and colleague.

That Sunday, my mother and Justin had both joined me going to the clinic. When Robert arrived, Justin met him in the parking lot to show his way to the ward.

Before he was allowed to go into the hospital room, we all had to wait in the hallway while the nurses got Gerd ready, strapped him in to the chair and then wheeled him out.

For some reason, I was terribly nervous. Sometimes, Gerd wouldn’t let the nurses touch him and screamed as they washed and dressed him. Somehow, I constantly had the feeling I had to protect him and make sure he made the best possible impression on the others. If Gerd didn’t recall something or couldn’t say anything, I felt like I had failed personally. Like an over-motivated mother that felt guilty when her child got bad grades in school. For years, I still believed Gerd couldn’t cope with his disability, couldn’t accept his fate, but finally I realized, I couldn’t either!

Whatever Robert may have thought when he saw his friend, he kept it to himself and talked to Gerd as “normally” as he could. I breathed a sigh of relief. Robert was in fact one of the few people who was able to deal with Gerd’s condition. And Gerd was clearly happy to see him and would have loved to return straight to the company with him and start working again.

Although it was fairly cold outside, Robert took Gerd for a walk through the gardens at the rehabilitation clinic and when they returned his face was all smiles. Robert had the feeling Gerd could see very well, since he looked back at the people they ran into and was able to differentiate between men and women! Robert’s positive feedback was proof to me that Gerd really was making progress.

Over the next few weeks, his rehabilitation program was expanded: practicing eating and drinking with therapeutic supervision was now added to the plan. Besides, Gerd also started practicing walking on a treadmill. In order to prevent the risk of falling, Gerd was strapped to the two handles.

Whenever Justin was nearby, he had to assist the nurses with their work. When doing so, the boy usually proved acting far more sensitive than the therapists.

Apparently, time was always too tight so they couldn’t wait until Gerd had gotten into his wheelchair himself, with his feet properly placed on the rests and ready to go. Therefore, once I got to witness as one of them forcefully turned the wheelchair, tipped and pulled it backward when Gerd couldn’t put up his feet right away! I can still see the panic on his face as he suddenly was being jerked down and back and I am convinced that the shock alone nullified the benefit of that therapy session.

Another time, he was carted up a ramp in the wheelchair and was requested to get on the treadmill himself. But it didn’t work, no matter how hard Gerd tried. Two therapists pushed and pulled at him and encouraged him in loud voices, but nothing helped. I could hear them growing angrier and louder as Gerd drew all of his strength together and finally stood up on the treadmill; with the wheelchair up in the air. They had forgotten to release the straps connecting Gerd to the vehicle first! Tears welled up in my eyes and my throat tightened with anger. I wanted to scream at the therapists, but didn’t. They were clearly embarrassed, but they didn’t apologize to Gerd after all.

A few weeks later, Gerd managed to walk on his own again without help! At the same time, his mind became clearer and we often lay together on his bed in the evening and made plans what to do if he could leave the clinic, completely healthy, this very day. As usual, his biggest priority was set on his working life. The very first thing he wanted to do in case of a miracle healing was going back to “his” company, start traveling and visiting “his” customers again.

At one point, we both realized that couldn’t be in his best interest, since there clearly had to be a reason for his heart attack. Now he was given a new life and this time Gerd had to follow a new and better path.

So we thought of alternatives. In our minds we started a company of our own or imagined selling German pretzels from a booth in some exotic country where we both felt comfortable. But no matter where our day dreams took us, it remained always most important to Gerd that Justin did not suffer from his disability. He didn’t want his son to give anything up out of concern for his father.

We just had to accept that Gerd’s disabilities were far more than “just” blindness. They were complex perception disorders in the broadest sense. His mood fluctuated between two extremes. Once, he was full of hope and convinced he would overcome it all and lead a “normal life” again one day and from one minute to the next he would fall into deep despair and his face expressing a look just like “The Scream”, a famous drawing by Edward Munch.

He often was found walking down the hospital hallway and asking passing nurses or visitors where the terminal was. He had to catch an imaginary plane to Paris and just failed to find his way! It was beyond doubt that his job had remained Gerd’s top priority even now; his subconscious wanted to go back to work! Moreover, he often spoke to people in English instead of German. Did he believe himself being on a business trip in his mind?

Because wandering up and down the hall might also be dangerous for Gerd, precautions had been taken. So one day, when I came to visit, I found him strapped to his wheelchair once again. He was not aware what kind of a vehicle he was sitting in and complained instead, “I want to get out of this car! Get me out here!” He was completely disoriented, “Where am I? What day is it?” He asked these questions incessantly without really being able to understand the responses. I often met him in the hallway, deeply saddened, his face covered in tears. He wanted to go on a trip, but couldn’t find his ticket, he explained.

These terrible hours of depression were followed by phases of complete overconfidence when he wanted to make a phone call, for example, even though he couldn’t push the buttons because he didn’t even know which way to hold the phone. He wanted to go home and resume his normal life, though he would never be able to get his bearings. He believed that if he just managed to leave the hospital, everything would return to “normal” again.

My mother and Justin accompanied me to the hospital almost every weekend. It was the year of his final exams, and Justin’s grades were suffering a lot due to the pain he felt over his dad’s sickness. The boy hadn’t been able to catch a good night’s sleep for months. Whenever he closed his eyes, he remembered his father fighting for his life. His teacher was of the opinion that Justin should be over it after six months! He probably thought the same thing we did earlier; that after surviving a heart attack, Gerd simply would have to focus on living healthier, changing his eating habits for the better, lowering his cholesterol and taking long walks in the fresh air more often. None of us could imagine the challenges we and especially Gerd would have to face every day instead.

The whole nursing staff devotedly worked with Gerd so he would regain a certain level of independence. With the patience of angels, they encouraged him to shave his own face by placing a razor in his right hand so he could do a few strokes. If he had repeated a movement once or twice, with supervision, he was actually able to continue on his own. But then he would stand there, helpless in front of the mirror, wanting to put down the razor without knowing how to do it and where. That proved his muscle memory was still working, but his brain simply wasn’t able to properly process the whole information.

One nurse even rubbed healing oil on the soles of his feet every night and sang Indian mantras and healing songs with him. On those evenings when she was on night shift, I could drive home, feeling completely at ease, assured Gerd would sleep well and was being cherished.

Although Gerd was cared for so lovingly in the Alps, I still pressed for him to be transferred to the rehabilitation clinic at Lake Constance, because that facility had a very good reputation with respect to therapies and reintegration into daily life. So I got in touch with the head of that clinic and did everything in my power to get my husband’s transfer started.