Born With Perforated Lungs

I am back in the hospital.  In Augst 2008, I was admitted to the hospital to have surgery on my collapsed lung: a pneumothorax.  The doctors basically went in through small incisions on my left side to staple up weak spots on my left lung (which are called blebs) and to scratch up the inside of me enough that scar tissue would adhere the outside of my left lung to the inside of the opposite thoracic wall.  Now, my left lung will never collapse again.  My left side is like a tubeless tire; there is nowhere for the air to escape to.

My right lung, however, was in no such repair.  When I had my last surgery, I was told that the condition that befell my left lung was probably going to be present in my right lung.  I only had to wait.

As expected, my right lung eventually did collapse.  Let me tell the story:

On Sunday, July 12, I was to leave on a mission trip with Metropolitan Baptist Church to go to Louisiana to paint, side, and roof some houses that churches had built for people down there.  I spent most of the preceding Saturday messing around and playing video games, but at around 7:00 p.m., I got my act together and started packing.  I neatly organized everything on my living-room floor before neatly placing each item into my duffle bag.  At 1:00 a.m., I was all packed and ready to leave.  I wished Cooper, my younger brother, good night and headed for my bed to get some rest.

As I turned the corner to enter the bedroom, I had a sharp pain that enveloped the entire right side of my chest.  My first thought suggested that my lung had collapses, as prophesied by my doctors.  I waited a moment to see if the pain would somehow go away, and it stabilized but never subsided.  I lied down, despite my pain, to see if I could get some rest.  I thought that I could, perhaps, sleep it off.  My hypothesis was very incorrect.  Instead of feeling better, I noticed that with every inhalation I could feel air rippling over the top of my lungs.

I got up, and now considering a late-night hospital visit, began walking around the house.  I had one test to find that my lungs had indeed collapsed.  Surrounding the human lungs is liquid.  Like a full water bottle, people never notice if this liquid moves around or not.  When there is suddenly air in the mixture, that liquid has room to move (and splash) around.  My test: jog up and down a flight of stairs and feel for splashing liquid.

I jogged up the stairs, and I did actually have a pnuemothorax — again.

I awoke my dad from his sleep and went to Wesley Medical Center’s Emergency Room.  On a quiet Sunday night, I was quickly tended to and given a chest x-ray.  Doctors with their stethoscopes told me that they could clearly hear air moving on the left side, but the right was quiet.  The x-rays only confirmed it: there was air outside of my right lung.

The night was spent in observation in the ER.  I had a nice room to myself, and the doctors were cool.  I later had a CT Scan.  The dye they put in my blood gave me the strangest sensation I’ve ever experienced.  Those who’ve had this scan know what I’m talking about.

Today is my fourth day in the hospital.  I’ve enjoyed my private room, and I’ve got my new laptop to entertain me.

Surgery is to take place today at around 12:00 p.m..  For the next few days, I will be at the hospital drugged up and feeling terrible.  I will have a tube in my side draining air and fluids as well.  In six weeks, I should be up to speed again, though.

Photo taken on Photo Booth on my Macbook Pro

~ by demo318 on July 15, 2009.