I became an industry statistic last week, although not intentionally. While returning from the annual ASHA meeting in Phoenix last Wednesday, I developed a slight cough just before takeoff, which turned into a full-blown cough by landing. The next day I went to my PCP to get some drugs, and tested negative for flu, COVID and RSV.
By late Friday afternoon, I was miserable. My daughter happened to be home, and seeing me struggle up the stairs, then fall at the top, unable to get up or even roll over, and then drag me into my bedroom, she made a call to a health care provider. The provider videochatted with me for less than a minute and then told my daughter to call 911 immediately. The doctor thought I was having a stroke. I had no idea what was going on.
I was strapped into a medical chair, carried down the stairs by two EMTs and a policewoman (I was more worried about being dropped than about my health), and loaded onto a gurney and rolled into an ambulance. That was my first ambulance ride. Off to the ER, which was the first time for me as a patient as opposed to bringing someone else in.
My temperature was over 102.5, which is quite high for an otherwise healthy 70-year-old, and they started an IV and gave me three Tylenols. The EKG, x-ray and CAT scans all came back somewhat normal, so no stroke. But the blood work indicated I had a very elevated case of the flu. Within a few hours, I was feeling much better and my temperature was way down. Although they asked if I wanted to stay overnight, I had a very quick NO. I didn’t want worse things to happen to me there.
So, after writing about the flu season and seniors housing for 30 years, I kind of became a statistic. So far this season, there have been 20 million cases, 250,000 hospitalizations and 11,000 deaths. While I was an ER visit stat, I was never actually hospitalized, and fortunately did not become number 11,001.
Truth be told, when I went to get my annual flu shot a few months ago, my pharmacy had run out. Shame on me, I forgot to go back, and then I figured it was too late. It almost was too late, but in another sense.
I couldn’t do the customary video today because I am still contagious and don’t want to infect my colleagues doing the filming. But lesson learned for next year. For me it was a real eye-opener for what the senior care providers have to deal with this time of year, every year. Trust me, it is no laughing matter. And trust me, you don’t want to be one of these statistics.
