I’m back from the hospital, thanks!

By Donald H. Harrison

SAN DIEGO — Over my brief stay at Kaiser Hospital on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, I learned there is a very real distinction between “physical distancing” and “social distancing.”

“Physical distancing” was what my wife Nancy and I had to practice the moment that she brought me to Kaiser’s new hospital in the Kearny Mesa area. I was permitted to go inside. Because of the restrictions against visitors at this hospital and many others (if not all of them) during this coronavirus pandemic, Nancy was required to wait in her car while I waited in a nearly empty waiting room to be admitted to the emergency room.

Thanks to my iPhone, I was able to keep Nancy apprised — and even consulting — at each step in my subsequent journey through a battery of tests, speculation, tentative diagnoses, and eventually consensus about what might have caused the continuous aching in the back right quadrant of my head and what impact that might have had on a noticeable weakening in my left hand. There was no “social distancing” between us.

The initial speculation after my first CAT scan was that I might have suffered a mini-stroke, which would have meant that some cells in my brain had died. But CAT scans don’t give the precise kind of reading one needs to know exactly what’s down there in or on the brain. So my doctors–plural, there was a different one on almost every shift — ordered an MRI, which is so much more precise. Meanwhile, to determine if my heart was working well enough, Kaiser’s kind medical staff ordered for me an electrocardiogram, then an echocardiogram, and also an echo-type test to see how well blood was being pumped from the heart to the brain.

The results of these tests were read, discussed, and debated by the internists, radiologists, and neurologists, and it was decided that I should have another CT as well as another MRI, with dye for contrast being injected into my veins at the proper moment to help the doctors distinguish what was being shown on the images.

On each shift, doctors and nurses asked me questions that helped them verify that I did not have a stroke. My eyes could follow their fingers; I knew where I was; I also could tell them the name of the President of the United States. They had me do interesting exercises, like running the heel of one foot from the top of my ankle up toward the knee and back again, then doing the same test with the other foot.

Earlier today, Nancy and I learned from an internist that my heart is working fine, even with the valve from a cow that had been substituted several years ago for my defective aortic valve. A neurologist told us what the various brain scans had detected was a meningioma in the brain quadrant where I was having the continuous headache. A meningioma might be described as a small, benign tumor that grows on the surface of the brain. It is not the kind of tumor that grows inside the brain. It is not cancer.

The right side of the brain controls the left side of the body, and this meningioma apparently disturbed some of the nerve cells that connect to my left side, causing a condition that mimics a minor seizure. I was prescribed a medication that is expected not only to relieve this condition, but also to act as a preventative.

I apologize for all this medical recapitulation, but so many people saw the message on Facebook that I may have had a mini-stroke that expressions of concern came pouring into me. It was a very humbling experience to learn that some 200 people, either via Facebook, or phone call, or email, were concerned for my well-being to send their wishes. It makes me emotional to think about it.

The unexpected, but very much appreciated outpouring from members of our Jewish community and others was one distinction between “physical distancing” and “social distancing.” Clearly, with all those thoughts for a refuah shlemah (complete healing), I was not socially isolated. In fact, I had received a mass social hug, thank you very much.

The other example was how throughout the entire process, I was able to have Nancy with me telephonically. When doctors came to interview me, or to share their thoughts, I’d call up Nancy and put her on speaker so that she could monitor the conversation and ask relevant questions. Although it is not her profession (she is a travel agent specializing in cruises), she is a natural patient’s advocate. And, I must say, the doctors not only were gracious about it; they welcomed her input.

I had another reason for wanting her on the phone. If she hadn’t been, my wife would have asked me after each conversation — did you ask the doctor this? Did the doctor have anything to say about that? I’m a reporter, true, but Nancy wants so much more detail than I can ever provide. So, having her on the phone let her hear it all from the doctor’s mouth — while getting me off the hook.

I’d like to tell you about Kaiser’s new hospital, in case you haven’t visited it. It is a Taj Mahal, very roomy, modern equipment, with patients all in private rooms. And the rooms are luxurious. On the wall across from the bed is a 75 inch wide television screen, on which you can watch informational videos, television, selected movies, order your meals, and even see relevant aspects of your medical history. Controls at your bed not only navigate what’s on the screen, but also can raise and lower the window blinds, and turn off, turn on, or dim the lights in the room. Of course, it also can signal a nurse if you need help for any reason.

The 6th floor to which I was assigned was completely separate from the floor on which coronavirus patients are being handled. Nurses, phlebotomists, and other technicians all wear gowns, gloves, and masks, and do not migrate from floor to floor during their shifts, but remain to whichever floor they are assigned.

The situation of the coronavirus patients was on everyone’s mind, regardless of which floor one was situated. While physical distancing was an inconvenience for me and Nancy, those patients and families who are concerned the coronavirus may be fatal know that in the event that it is, they can’t be together at the end to hold the patient’s hand, or stroke a forehead, or kiss goodbye. I don’t think any of us would like to permanently leave in that manner a spouse, children, or others who are close to us.

Throughout my hospital stay, I made it a point to thank sincerely every member of the Kaiser staff who on a daily basis risk exposure to the coronavirus. More than for themselves, the doctors and nurses told me they worry for their families and significant others, to whom they might inadvertently bring home the contagion. Some immediately take off their clothes and take hot showers when they get home; others are living in temporary separate quarters and keep in touch with their families in the same way I did with Nancy. Yet, for all the uncertainty, the Kaiser medical staff (and I’m sure this is true of professionals at other hospitals as well) continue to do their jobs with a positive attitude, which in itself has a beneficial effect on patients.

One nurse and I wondered whether the coronavirus pandemic would have a greater impact on the nation’s birth rate or divorce rate. We both agreed the former would be preferable. A doctor and I speculated about the political implications of the coronavirus. Would it temper the demand for denser housing close to trolley lines and other mass transit, or given what we know how viruses spread, would it increase demand for more spread out housing, notwithstanding the obvious impact daily commuting by car from far off suburbs might have on air quality. Might there be a concommitant increase in tele-commuting, so people might not have to drive to work at all, or at least not very often?

I’m grateful that I was able to ponder the ailments of society while being cared for by medical professionals who were so diligent in their efforts to determine what ails me.

My thanks to every one of you who expressed your affection and your concern for my welfare, and especially, my thanks to Nancy, wife of 52 years, who never leaves my side, even when she can’t be there physically.

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Donald H. Harrison is editor of San Diego Jewish World. He may be contacted via donald.harrison@sdjewishworld.com