Our 4th of July fireworks ~

[Warning: this is a blow by blow account of a medical incident; it may be more information than you want to know.]

It was not the sort of red, white & blue holiday we anticipated… the traditional fireworks with our American friends on base. No, instead Phil landed in two hospitals – one American and one Japanese. I played the part of photo journalist.

July 3 – Following a missionary correlation meeting at 8:00 AM and a baptism at the beach at 10:30, Phil confided that he’d been having “minor chest discomfort” for a couple of days. And he had been self medicating with aspirin. Now, he said, it was time to pay a visit to the ER for an evaluation. Before we left for the hospital, we prayed together and we both felt assured that everything would be okay. At the hospital, the doctor scolded him for not reporting in sooner and for taking multiple doses of aspirin!

1:15 PM we arrived at the hospital. It’s true, when you say “chest pains” in an ER, everyone swings into action. Monitors, EKG, blood draw. It’s a symphony of motion. Tentative diagnosis: some sort of cardiac event has taken place. At 4:00 PM he was admitted to Camp Lester Naval Hospital. Lester is a full service hospital with outstanding resources and care. He was monitored, further evaluated and made comfortable with drugs. His pain was never above 5 on a scale of 1 to 10, and averaged about 1 or 2. In this case, however, they want a zero. He received a priesthood blessing, which of course encouraged and sustained us both.

July 4 – The doctor is “not happy” with the cardiac markers in his blood tests. He wants Phil evaluated by a cardiologist. The bad news is there is no cardiologist at Lester Hospital. After all, the vast majority of the military population here is young, healthy and fit. What would they need with a cardiologist? The good news is the Naval hospital has an association with a Japanese hospital which has a quality cardiac care unit.

At 10:30 we were sped by ambulance down route 58, accompanied by a staff of doctor, nurse, technician, fully qualified EMT driver … and wife. [Let’s be honest: it was Sunday morning, there was little traffic on the road. Maybe they used the lights and siren because it was fun to kick up a little speed on Okinawa where the posted limit is 50 kilometers per hour, which is only 31 mile/hour.] I think the nurse and technician had not seen the inside of a Japanese hospital, so it was a bit of a field trip for them to come along. Nevertheless, we were grateful for their support.

By 11:45 AM the initial procedures were underway. One of many blessings we count during the weekend ordeal is that their Japanese cardiologist came to Okinawa just last fall after 11 years in New York where he earned his credentials. He is U.S. board certified and speaks very good English. With catheter and tiny camera (inserted at the wrist, not the groin), he determined there was blockage of a small artery on the left side of the heart. Before the actual procedure took place, he explained to me the problem and how he planned to treat it.

Meanwhile, I hung out in a typically bare Japanese waiting room. The seats - both height from the floor and depth of the cushion - are built for Lilliputians, those tiny captors of Gulliver’s Travels.

By 1:00 PM, Phil was out of surgery. The small artery had been cleared by a tiny wire and was now flowing freely. He had had a “small heart attack”, meaning it had caused only minor damage to the heart muscle.

At 2:45 he was settled in a private room with a bathroom. By Japanese standards, it's about average. By American standards, it showed a lot of wear.

The Japanese are by culture a gracious, polite, patient people. Though the staff spoke little or no English, they made us comfortable. This nurse knelt on the floor while tending to his IV.

Nevertheless, differences are evident. Hospitals in Japan do not provide the same amenities one expects in America. For example, there was no soap or paper towels at the sink. Scant meals of rice, fish or fish soup with chunks of potato were served but they do not normally provide eating utensils. No spoon or chopsticks! No clock in the room. No bath towel. No Kleenex. Not even a pitcher or glass of water for the patient! The pillow was a small sack of what felt like dried corn. These are things the family is expected to provide. Families generally supplement the meals also. Interesting. A dear friend was kind enough to drive me back to our apartment where I could collect a few things Phil needed and return me to the hospital. She missed the 4^th of July fireworks with her family to serve me in this way. I spent the night on a small couch in his room.

July 5 – Pending good results from the 8:00 AM blood test, we were hopeful he might be released from the hospital. The wait turned into hours; more consultation and tests. Finally the doc said no, he was not yet comfortable sending Phil home. We discussed the options and decided he would return to the Navy hospital. 4:00 PM – Another ambulance ride up route 58.

July 6 – After one more night in the hospital, complete with monitors and regular vitals checks, he was discharged this morning. The doctor made some changes to his regular meds. He is ready now to get back into our routine. We are so grateful for the availability of quality medical care, and for friends who helped us in numerous ways. Most of all, of course, we are grateful to God for blessings large and small, today and everyday.

End of Story