The First Time

Many of us in medicine are fortunate to treat and guide a patient through "the first time" they have a medical emergency or newly diagnosed illness. Of course, sometimes we are skeptical about that "first time" line, but more often than not my experiences have lead me to believe that the patient is telling the truth. At least in his own mind.

"I've never had a drink before tonight." (Say that with a slur, by the way.)
"Honestly, doctor, I thought the pills were Tylenol. I've never used Vicodin before."
"What? I don't know how that cucumber got up my ass! This is a first for me!
"I can't remember ever having burning like this."

You get the picture. So when a nurse ran up to me with an EKG that showed some serious abnormalities, I quickly followed her to the patient.

Surprise! I walked into a room that contained an anxious but very polished thirty-something female. She was dressed to-the-hilt in designer clothes, her make-up refined and her hair perfectly coiffed and colored. She couldn't be the owner of this EKG!

I looked at the nurse with a questioning face and she nodded her assurance to me.

I turned to the patient and introduced myself. "Maam," I said, "what brought you to our ER tonight?"

"I...am having...a hard time breathing," the patient spoke, clutching her chest, "and my heart feels funny." I could smell the hint of alcohol when she talked, her sophistication taking a few steps back.

"Do you have any palpitations with your difficulty breathing?" I asked. She nodded yes. "Any previous heart or breathing problems?" This time, a no nod. "Any recent cough or cold symptoms?" No. "Any trauma, leg or calf pain?" Another no.

"Doctor," she said, gasping for air between her words, "I have to be honest. I tried cocaine for the first time tonight and this started right after. Does this happen to everyone?"

I should have known. This was a woman who didn't smoke, didn't have any family history of heart disease, and had no past medical history of hypertension, high cholesterol, or diabetes. No serious cardiac risk factors. In other words, healthy. Except, and this is a HUGE except, she chose to use crack cocaine. Disappointing, for sure. I could only hope that she was being honest with me, because if she was a regular user and not a first-timer, her heart could have already had significant damage before presenting tonight.

"Am I going to be alright, Doctor?"

"Maam," I said, pulling out her EKG to review it with her. "I think you should know that your EKG is showing some serious findings. It looks like your heart is straining to the point where you are having a heart attack."

"Me? A heart attack? No!" She looked at me incredulously. "Are you being serious? I'm only thirty-two." I nodded my head up and down. "Yes, I am being serious, unfortunately." There was no sugar-coating this.

The patient looked at her friend sitting in the corner who, up until now, had been very inconspicuous. "Laura, you better call Larry and tell him to get here right away. And don't tell him a thing. Just tell him I'll explain everything when he gets here." Laura stood up and wiped her nose with a tissue before giving the patient a hug. She walked out of the room with her cell-phone. I hoped we wouldn't be seeing her for treatment in a bit, too.

"Is Larry your husband?" I asked when we were alone. "Yes, he is," the patient said, "and I don't want him to know I used cocaine, okay?" I assured her that wouldn't be a problem. Well, not my problem, anyway. She could tell him as much or as little as she chose. I just had a gut feeling, though, that by this end of this day, Larry would be pissed at his wife.

"But I still don't know how this could have happened," she said. I explained to her how cocaine causes vasoconstriction, or simply spasming and tightening down, of the arteries that supply oxygenated blood to the heart muscle. If the heart muscle does not get enough oxygenated blood, then, damage can occur. If the patient is a first-time user, as this woman claimed, it's not unusual to get symptoms within three hours of use. If a patient has abused cocaine indefinitely, silent heart damage may have already occurred. In which case, she could be in very serious danger.

I explained to her what was going to happen next. "We are going to give you some aspirin and some valium, but we need to avoid a few other medications that we would normally use to treat chest pain." Cocaine changed those rules. "Also," I continued, "I want you to know that a cardiologist has been called and is going to be here shortly, to take you to the cath lab."

She just shook her head and trembled. "I know," I said, holding her hand, "it's hard to believe that cocaine can do all this."

She started crying as the nurse began pushing medications into her IV. Her vitals, thankfully, remained stable.

"I have three small kids at home," she said, shaking her head. "What was I possibly thinking?"

I could only imagine what her life would be like after we got her through this crisis. If she survived this crisis, that is. Her family would face some serious consequences for her decision-making.

I explained to her that it was very important we know if she had used cocaine in her past or, as she said, this was truly a first time for her.

"Yes," she assured me, "it was my first time. I mean, look at me. Do I look like someone who used cocaine before?"

I bit my tongue on her question. In reality, yes. She did look like someone who may have used cocaine before. Cocaine has no "look," really. Well, not clothes-wise or status-wise. But it does have a look of desperation when things go wrong, and this patient sure had that "look" now.

We got this patient to the cath lab. Luckily, she had no significant blockages and, more importantly, the medications we had given her in the ER had begun reversing the vasoconstriction before permanent damage occurred. She was going to be alright.

After his wife's successful catheterization, Larry, her husband, came down to the ER carrying a large cookie tray to thank our staff. Yes, he matched his wife's look--a pressed shirt and tie, penny-loafers, and wavy undisturbed hair. With a hint of alcohol on his breath. "I just don't understand how this could happen, though. She's too young and healthy to have had a heart attack."

I just nodded at his words, the silence floating between us like a concrete barrier. I was bound by patient confidentiality from sharing with Larry the truth of his wife's situation and, besides, it wasn't my place to tell him of her cocaine use. Instead, I diverted him and asked about the weather outside.

We shook hands and I told him to share our best wishes with his wife during her recovery. As he walked away from me, I couldn't help but think of their marriage and their three kids. Silently, I prayed that things would turn out okay for this young family.

Another "first" patient, she turned out to be. I thought back to her words. "Doctor, I have to be honest. I tried cocaine for the first time tonight and this started right after." Was it really her first time using? I hoped so, but I've been fooled before.

I can only hope, though, for her sake that this "first" will be her last.

As always, I thank you for reading. The next post will be Wednesday, February 10th. Until then, I hope you have a good start to the week. If you didn't vote yet, please do! This is the final week. I appreciate your support.

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Please Make Her Comfortable

During a recent shift, I was witness to a family's struggle and courage in facing their mother's illness.

Their mother, age 96, had broken her hip a week prior. Because of significant health and social issues, the family and patient concurred with the orthopedic team that it wouldn't be wise to operate.

The patient was sent to a local rehabilitation facility. Prior to the transfer, the patient and her family had discussed at length a living will and to what degree heroics were to be performed in the event of a medical emergency. They opted for no intervention whatsoever--no CPR, no medical testing, no antibiotics, no intubation, no resuscitation efforts. Basically, they wanted only comfort measures for pain and anxiety relief.

A very difficult decision, of course.

Within a week of being transferred to the rehabilitation facility, unfortunately, the patient started to have a cough. Soon after, she began to have a harder time breathing.

The facility, despite their best efforts, eventually sent the patient to our ER when it was discovered that she had very low oxygenation levels. They were not equipped for this.

I walked into this patient's room and after introducing myself to her and meeting her family, consisting of two sons, a daughter, and a daughter-in-law, I began to sort out what I could do to help this patient and her family.

On exam, this patient was obviously struggling and appeared to have pneumonia. She had a fever and very low oxygen levels. When I listened to her lungs with my stethoscope, she had classic findings for infection. She was starting to get very fatigued and was not as mentally alert as her family knew her to be.

Normally, with a patient in this situation, we are very aggressive. She would have been intubated and received three, sometimes four, antibiotics intravenously. She would have gotten a very thorough workup that would have included x-rays, blood work, and possibly a CT scan of her chest to make sure she didn't have a blood clot in her lungs, a possible consequence of her hip fracture.

However, upon review of the patient's paperwork sent from the rehab facility and the family's personal request at her bedside, we did none of this. We respected their wishes and this patient's living will.

I did order this patient some low doses of morphine and valium which made her more comfortable. The family was quite appreciative. Although the patient was critically ill, she was not yet near her end. After another discussion with the family, we came to a mutual decision to admit their mother to the hospital and continue her comfort care. The family was uncomfortable taking the patient home with her hip fracture. I called their family doctor and he graciously came in and handled the admission.

During the admission, I was stopped by the daughter in the hallway. She was very tearful, as any of us would be, and second-guessing their family decision of no heroics.

"Mom lead an amazing life. I know it's time...but this is so hard to watch. I feel like we should be doing something more."

I put my arm around her. "God Bless your family," I said.

"Well," she sighed, "this is how Mom wanted it, so I guess we have to respect her decision."

I nodded at her words. I have several times witnessed these decisions reversed, but it seemed that this family was not going to follow that route.

The daughter, though, still needed to reconcile the decision with her anguish.

"What would you do?" she asked me suddenly.

Her question caught me off-guard. It was a question that I couldn't possibly answer for her. Her family's decision was made after weighing many specific circumstances, circumstances that I knew nothing about. So no, I couldn't give her a direct answer.

I explained this to her. "But," I continued, "does the rest of your family still support this decision?"

"Yes," she said, "and I think I do, too."

I decided to open up to her. I shared with her how several years ago, my beautiful mother, after courageously fighting and beating back leukemia for several years, decided that it was time to stop. It had been an extremely difficult decision, fully supported by my father, my six siblings, and myself. Because Mom knew. And despite all the setbacks, her faith had never wavered and her spirit had remained unconquerable. She had fought the fight and had benefited from that fight. But, unfortunately, her disease had come back with a vengeance. After several failed attempts to reenter remission, she chose to stop all further treatments and go home to spend her remaining days enveloped in our love.

"So, yes," I said, "it was very hard to watch. But it was the right thing for Mom and our family."

Now, the daughter nodded at my words. After a moment or two, she spoke. "Mom did have an amazing life, but yes, it is time."

I squeezed her hand in support and she leaned in and gave me a hug.

"Thank you," she said as we parted.

No, I thought to myself as I walked away remembering my mother's beautiful spirit, thank you.