MEDIA CONTEST: Buddy Wingman concept saves CSS NCO’s life Published Dec. 28, 2006 Contribution by a stringer (writer) Entry 8 ACC MEDIA CONTEST -- I would like to speak about an event that happened in my life that is still unfolding, and so far has turned out okay but easily could have gone in a much different path. While playing basketball during PT recently, I heard a "pop" near my ankle and I immediately dropped to the floor. I thought I had just twisted my ankle so we iced it up, and went to the emergency room. I found out I ruptured my Achilles Tendon, and it would require surgery to fix. The two-hour procedure went fine and I was given convalescent leave to recuperate. I didn't have any pain after five days and was bored at home, so I returned to work after only half of the given rest time. I felt fine until the three week mark, when I passed out. I don't actually remember passing out ... I only remember walking into my garage and then waking up laying on the ground between my car and the lawnmower. Not knowing what happened, but not wanting to bother anyone, I crawled into my house where I laid on the floor until I felt I had enough strength to move. My breathing was extremely rapid and my heart was beating like a mouse. Although I had only moved a few feet, it felt like I had run a marathon. But no matter how deeply I breathed or tried to relax, I couldn't get enough air into my body. After about an hour of lying on the floor, I managed to make it to my bed - where I stayed for two days until my alarm clock woke me up for work. The walk (on crutches) from the parking lot normally takes five minutes, but on this day, it felt like 30. As I interacted with people, I got a lot of "are you okays." They could tell I was having trouble breathing. I told them I was tired and hadn't been eating. Another day went by and I continued to struggle. A co-worker came home with me after work and made me eat dinner. That seemed to help. My personal diagnosis was it had been a lack of food and my solution (eating) worked - so I thought I was going to be okay. When I woke up the next morning though, I was weak again, weaker than before. I made the call to work to tell them I couldn't come in and then tried to sleep. I couldn't rest however, as my heart was beating so fast and each breath was shallow and didn't seem to be moving any air at all into my lungs. I heard a knock at my door, but I was too weak to answer. Then heard my phone ringing, but again I was too weak to answer. The next thing I remembered was two of my co-workers beside me at my bed helping me up, getting me dressed saying they were taking me to the emergency room. I couldn't argue, so they carried me to the vehicle and off we went. The emergency team immediately ran tests to find out what was wrong. They found out I was circulating less than 20 percent of the air I need to survive. Within an hour, the doctors determined that blood clots had traveled from the area near my repaired Achilles Tendon, up to the veins in my leg, then into my heart and lungs. The clots were a possible side effect from surgery but for some reason my body was producing a lot of them and they were closing off nearly every place they went. I was told the situation was 'grave' and was moved to the intensive care unit for constant monitoring until I could be transported to another facility. I was moved to Pensacola for an additional surgery to slow down the growth of clots and block those trying to get to my heart. It took three days of constant care and attention to get my condition downgraded from extremely critical to manageable. Now, after all that, I'm close to my old self again. Internally though, I still have many clots that could break free at any time. I have to take blood thinning medications to keep clots from forming and to reduce the others so they don't cause any more damage. Reflecting back, there were many things that could've been done differently. But one thing is certain ... my shop acted as my buddy wingman/woman. They knew how I acted and behaved normally and were able to notice a change. They didn't nag which could have made me defensive, and they didn't take my "not eating" explanation either. They took action when it looked as though I would not do so myself. They made sure I got to the emergency room before I died, but all of them took time to support me in any way they could. They took timeout to not only take care of my military duties, but also made sure my personal life was cared for too, so I could concentrate on getting well. There is nothing I can give or do for those guys, as they have given me so much. I can only thank them for watching out for me and for being my strength and courage when mine was failing.