Coma

Last night, I did one of the most grown-up things I’ve ever done. I went to the hospital and talked to a friend who was in a coma.

At least, it felt grown up. I stood there with his ex/wife and looked at him, looking as bad and helpless as anybody does who is lying in a hospital bed. I stood there and saw him on a vent, I saw all the life support. I stood there and saw the tiny bandage on his neck from the simple surgery that led to his being in this state.

I stood there, and realized I had to cross a line. I had to cross a gap of three feet. I had to reach down, take the fingers of my friends hand in my hand, and talk to him in a voice usually reserved for the old and hard of hearing. I had to do this in front of other people. And I had to do it saying things as if I expected him to reply, but pretty much knew he would not.

It was a simple choice, a simple line, and at once very difficult.

It would have been easier if he had been a stranger. If it were my job somehow. And perhapse it was my job, because I am his friend. But he wasn’t a stranger. I had lunch with him Monday afternoon. He had a simple thyroid surgery Tuesday afternoon. And very early Wednesday morning, after having already come around from the anethesia, he suffered Malignant Hypothermia.

Apparently, his body reacted badly, almost as if allergically, to the anethesia. This causes his body’s cells to kick out their calcium. The calcium, a tensing-trigger in muscle tissue, caused his whole body to riggor. This placed a strain on his heart, and the whole process raised his body temp. His temperature climbed to 105 from 99 in just about an hour.

He was emergency cooled, and put on a drug, almost an anti-rejection drug, kept on hand in hospitals around the country for just such an emergency and rarely ever used.

Its not clear why he had this reaction AFTER having already revived from the anethesia. Most people respond DURING the surgery, when the gas or whatever is applied.

It doesn’t help him being in a coma that his wife of some years served him unexpectedly with divorce papers. Its a subtle joke among all of us, her included, that she doesn’t do much for making him want to come out of the coma.

So, as one of his best friends, someone he once confided that he considered me a rescuer at times of depression, I went and spoke to him. I told him that he wasnt supposed to be in ICU, and that we had plans to do things together next week, and I really wanted him to come around for them.

I told him that I missed him, and I wanted him to keep fighting his way back up, because I wanted him here.

That was one of the most grown up things I’ve ever had to do.