I've been in a lot of boats, but not that particular one.
But, despite your name, you aren't "flying solo". Your doctor is your co-pilot, and you should call him immediately and discuss this. You are not going to be the first patient who has done this, and he won't scold you.
Fear is a real paralyzer, and in some cases it's a killer.
I'll tell you a story that I haven't posted yet, but I'm going to elaborate on in a separate thread.
A few weeks after I got out of the hospital following my RC, I felt very weak, and had to go to the bathroom. I could hardly make it to to bathroom I felt so lightheaded.
Then, sitting on the toilet, I passed out cold. I hit the floor face first, but I was unconscious before the impact. The toilet was full of blood. My face was a bloody mess.
I revived after a few seconds, and--hearing the thud--my wife ran into the room. Oddly, lying horizontally on the cool tile floor, I felt better. I convinced her that it was probably just a hemorrhoid and that all I needed was to get to bed and lie down. She--bless her--called USC, but the resident on call just said to watch things. In retrospect, bad advice.
In the morning I had to go to the bathroom again, could barely make it to the toilet, voided more blood, and collapsed on the floor again, this time vomiting blood.
Again, oddly, once I made it to the floor I felt better. I told her NOT to call 911, that I wanted to be driven to the hospital and not have to pay for the ambulance ride.
By this time I was feeling very weak. Not only could I not physically walk to the car, I couldn't even crawl to the living room. I crawled ten feet and couldn't go any further.
When the ambulance arrived I was shivering uncontrollably. It was July and almost 80 degrees in the room. Long story short, when I got to the hospital my blood pressure was so low they started a transfusion almost immediately. By the time they stopped the bleeding (it was in my GI tract) I needed a total of ten units of blood and was in intensive care for almost five days. I was really "going toward the light". It felt so good on the cool tile floor, surrounded by blood and vomit, I told my wife just to leave me alone, that I felt fine.
But why did I ignore the whole "passing out/bloody toilet" episode?
Because I was afraid that I'd have to go back to the hospital. I DID NOT WANT TO GO TO THE HOSPITAL. I was afraid I'd have more surgery, and I desperately hoped things would just get better by themselves.
That was the closest I've come to dying. Because I was afraid.
I hope this hits home for those of you who are afraid to discuss things with your doctor.
Zach
