Waiter, There's a Head in My Soup!

Waiter, there’s a head in my soup!

Do you faint in your soup bowl after donating blood? I usually do, in fact, I’ve been asked by one organization to never show up again, for I not only fainted on the cot while giving blood, but passed out later into the chicken soup. Physicians tend to call this phenom a vaso vagal syndrome or an even more syncopated term, a vaso vagal syncope.

A few days ago I had a real major syncope as I was minding my own business lying peacefully in a state of post spinal and general anesthesia as 70% of my pesky prostate had just been removed, when out of nowhere, really, nowhere, my heart beat and blood pressure starting dropping precipitously into never never land, and the nurses had to call in a quick response team. Of course I was all clammy, with my eyes rolling around in the back of my head, but other than that I was pretty peaceful. Everyone around me was not. Lots and lots of white coats. I was pulled back to this earth by an injection of atropine, and with that I resumed a “normal” heartbeat of about 44 beats. “What happened?” I asked. Dumb question. It’s a question I’ve been wondering about lately, for I’ve been fainting near pools of blood most of my life.

In high school I tried organizing a blood drive for my dad’s church or perhaps for a school event. Everything was going fine, at least in my distant memory of the early 1960’s, but I do remember landing in the soup bowl and being fished out by very kind blood donors. Years later, standing in line for a blood donation at college, I could hear the simple questions being asked of every student donor, and one question caught my ear, “have you ever fainted?” Of course I had had only one incident, but by the time I was seated for the “interview,” and the question asked, I bravely but oddly said no, then landed on the floor. I was not asked to return. My short life as a donor had a terrible track record. I pretty much gave up the idea, until a synagogue was sponsoring a blood drive, and surely an incident (really two) as a youth could not linger all the way into mid adult life, so I bravely volunteered, and wasn’t asked if I ever fainted. While on the bed giving blood, I left earth again. After being called back, what could be more refreshing than some hot chicken soup? Waiter, there’s a head in my soup!

Years ago, while exploring the writing life in Bowling Green, Ohio, I had a tooth extracted. The shock of losing an important body part was quite stressful, so I closed the door of our bedroom and just tried to accept the bloody hole in my mouth. I was quite good in the dentist’s office, with all of the right sedatives to dull the pain. My wonderful wife suggested as a pick me up, let’s go out for dinner. These were the pre-tofu days, when we were still licking our lips over baby back ribs. It was a wonderful evening, and the entire restaurant was doing great business on a Friday night. My wife decided to freshen up in the ladies’ room, and when she returned, our entire table had been cleaned of all unfinished dishes and drinks, as I had, Oh No, landed face down in the baby backs. Obviously, I was the town drunk, so management cleaned up the table, and me, and had propped me up against a bench near the exit door. The waitress was all smiles, and said our table had been “taken care of.” My wife didn’t quite know what had happened, but realized I had once again, aimed for the chicken soup, this time, a slower reaction to the surgical procedure of the afternoon.

So it’s like this, pretty much all my life, yet whenever it happens, I hardly know what’s going on, but others are certainly responding around the maelstrom. I’ve had other moments. I still recall getting an inoculation in a doctor’s office in Milwaukee years, even decades ago, and after the injection, the doctor left and said I could wait a few moments if I wanted to. He left, and later nurses found me on the floor, looking for soup I guess. They propped me up, and then left the room knowing I was okay; a few minutes later, they found me slumped all the way over in my chair. This happened years before the synagogue blood bank night. I admit I do get a little light headed when checking out the sales on the lowest shelf, and sometimes coming out of long yoga positions with my head way below my heart, if I come up to fast, well, I just look for a close wall.

But last Wednesday night I’ll admit was a doozy. But probably not any more of a scare for the hospital than when I went in, years ago, for a simple colonoscopy. After what I thought was a perfectly safe “black out” sleep, I was awakened by the attending physician who said, “We thought we lost you!” I calmly remarked “where did I go?” The procedure hadn’t even started, as I was given a good dose of Demerol. Now I wear a necklace with the good words, “no Demerol.” I had crashed so to speak, but in medical terms, I “experienced” an a systole. Flat liner. I’m not sure how long I was flat lined, but I still have some consciousness, so it couldn’t have been too long, right? Reaction to Demerol, right? But the attending doc might want to consider the old vaso vagal syndrome. The next time I went in for the same test five years later, the same doc said we’re going to do something different today. I actually got a little medicine that increased my heart rate, so I wouldn’t “drop” again into no no land. Things went swimmingly that time.

So, after my prostate was adjusted accordingly with a 70% reduction, I assumed we were all on green lights, but without anyone advising me otherwise, I did go all clammy, I did start flapping my arms, I did roll a few eyes, and then another black out, without soup. If this syndrome of mine should continue, I have been offered a tip-top table to experiment on, where the cardiologist places me on a surfing board completely horizontal, then vertical, then horizontal. Cool, kind of like the Gravitron ride at the circus where the drum is spinning so fast, the floor drops out from everyone’s feet. Then the skin sort of does the Mach 1 thing of flapping in the wind. Very cool. I might have to try it if this syndrome persists, but usually this occurs when I notice blood pools coagulating.

P.S. The pee is flowing like never before, at least in recent memory. The BPH or benign prostatic hyperplasia is pretty much gone. The surgical procedure, TURP or Transurethral (yep, that’s up the penis) Resection (yes, a creative word for removing organ matter) of the Prostate went very well. I didn’t stay awake to consult on this one. Before, the “stream” was like a garden hose after the water was turned off. Now, the stream is something like a red fire hose, and it feels like it, too. Strange how one can laugh while doing something so human.

Okay, enough of this. Next time will be visiting on something much more civilized.