Recently, a virus raged through my body and I was barely able to speak between coughing fits so violent they left me vomiting. It was a friend of mine who insisted that she take me to Urgent Care. Upon my request, due to the strong pulmonary team at Valley View, I asked to be taken to Glenwood... big mistake.
My friend stood there stunned as the doctor talked to me while I was gagging into a blue plastic bag, holding one finger up to tell him that I couldn't possibly hear what he was saying. And then they pumped medications into my body. A Nebulizer that made me cough harder. A massive albuterol pill, Sudafed, and they sent me home with cough syrup with codeine. It was too much for a dehydrated body deprived of food and sleep. I spent the night violently throwing up, curled into a ball on the cold tile of the bathroom floor, my body emptying itself of everything it had left in it. That's probably when my sodium levels dropped.
In the morning my husband poured my lifeless body into the car and my sister took me to the ER at Aspen Valley Health. And that’s where the real care began.
My veins, famously difficult, became a quiet battle of their own due to my dehydration. The team worked with patience and persistence, using ultrasound to guide IVs, searching again and again for access. Even then, it wasn’t easy. When I began to feel a little better I begged them to release me. I just needed to sleep in my own bed. But then I had a relapse and went back to ER the next day and was reprimanded for drinking water without electrolytes, I missed that memo.
Dr. Taylor Miles, my hospitalist, a Global Health doctor who spends her spare time doing mission work, was extraordinary. A quiet force in a petite frame, dark curls piled high, the bluest of eyes that saw everything. She moved through each test, each variable, with a calm certainty that grounded us all. Nothing was overlooked. Nothing dismissed.
And the nurses who drew blood and checked on me around the clock … I told them I loved them as often as I could. Because I did.
Summer Flack, a force balancing motherhood, nursing, and ski patrol, was not just attentive, she was present. A companion in the truest sense, and then there was Lara, Morgan, and Rebecca, each with their own attributes and intelligence. And then in strolled in the tall, handsome and dynamic Dr. Edwin Palmer. Taking over for Dr. Taylor, Dr. Palmer answered every question with patience. Then there was Ian, who held space for me after a brutal coughing episode as he strolled me over for my MRI. Lindsey in respiratory, Karmen with life planning, and Trevor, who found a vein in record time in the middle of the night, each became part of the fabric that held me together.
Released again, desperate to feel normal, I may have pushed it too fast with a slow hike up Smuggler and a few gentle swings of a pickleball paddle (I promise! I took it easy). The next day, I dropped again; lungs tight, breath shallow, begging for prednisone just to open the smallest window of air. I had never experienced asthma before but now have an entirely new level of understanding for those who suffer. How disconcerting it is to not be able to catch one's breath.
From there, Aspen Lung Center. Then, because she is who she is, my sister gave up her own appointment in Denver and drove me to National Jewish for a second opinion. Did I have a lung disease? Cancer? They repeated what Aspen Lung had said, they didn't know but the MRI once my lungs were cleared would tell us more.
Two MRIs, three CT scans and three weeks later, my lungs are clear. And no, I don’t have a lung disease after all. There's weird shit going around, and the common cold seems to now send you to the hospital.
Illness humbles you in ways nothing else can. It softens your edges and teaches you how to receive, and it deepens your understanding of what people go through when they get sick; the loneliness and the inability to join in on everything you could do just weeks before. What carried me through was the care from AVH, and the love I received from people I didn't even know cared.
We are so fortunate to have a hospital shaped not only by medical excellence, but by philanthropic residents who generously use their wealth for the greater good, with no stone seemingly left unturned, including the nature photographs on the walls and lit up on the ceilings as you get rolled in for your radiation. Small reminders, when you are at your most fragile, that there is still beauty in this world.
And now for the healing to recover from medications I can barely pronounce including; Flagyl (metronidazole), that made my nerves make it feel as though it was drizzling rain. Doxycycline. Benzonatate and Zofran (the miracle drugs to help relieve me of some of the pain), Fluticasone. Omeprazole. Mucinex. Melatonin. And prednisone—the one I found myself pleading for, just to breathe.
And yes, I feel sorry for myself for missing the last month of ski season. Thankfully I was able to get back up on the mountain before it closed and I was elated, even though it was one of the worst snow seasons since the 70’s. I emerged 10 lbs lighter, my ribs out. and I went from bright lights and hospital beds, to the slopes. I was hesitant to ski lest I send myself back into ER, but I had to go, and with a dear friend beside me I found soft groomers I could manage and I was so grateful to experience the hum of closing day energy, what is it about that helix motion that makes us feel so alive and complete? That was all I needed, to move my body outside with a good friend, and to feel human again with a cup of tea at The Mountain Club.
From the bottom of my heart, I thank you all at Aspen Valley Health. And with equal sincerity, I hope that me and my family never have to go back.
