Even though Joseph’s first session of chemo went well with minimal side effects other than some brain fog, he was very anxious in anticipation of the second round. “I just don’t feel good about this.”
Just after midnight on the day of chemotherapy, I woke to a crash followed by silence. I reached over to Joseph’s side of the bed—he wasn’t there. I got up to figure out what fell and where Joseph was, and finally found him lying on the kitchen floor next to a glass and puddle of milk. He responded when I said his name and reached up for my hands. I pulled him up to stand and hugged him. He crumpled in my arms and I had to lower him back to the floor.
“Joe! Joe!” His pulse was strong and regular, but it took a moment for him to respond to me. He reached his hands out to me again and I pulled him up to stand again—silly me—only to have him go limp in my arms. I lowered him back down to the floor. The next time I pulled him up I had a chair ready for him to sit.
“I needed to get something on my stomach. I was having reflux,” he said.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just get me some milk to drink.”
I did. “Let me get your office chair so I can push you back to the bedroom.”
“No. Just hold my hand and walk with me.”
Against my better judgment, I tried, but just outside the kitchen I could tell Joseph wouldn’t be able to keep walking. His legs were giving way underneath him. I was able to grab his office chair from nearby—his blue, Summit Steelcase chair—and get it under him.
“I should take you to the hospital.”
“I just want to go back to bed and lie next to you,” Joseph said, so I pushed him back to our bed in the office chair and he crawled into bed.
For any of you out there who have ever asked me if you should go to the ER, my answer for you on a night like this one would have been simple: Do not pass go, do not collect your things, dial 911, and go! Joseph didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to go. We were supposed to be at Moffitt first thing in the morning and wanted to address what was happening there. We did not want to explain his treatment regimen to a strange ER doc. We had a lot of reasons, and I can argue about them only because we were lucky this time.
I crawled into bed next to Joseph, put my head on his chest, and lay awake listening to him breathe until it was time to get up. He was better in the morning. At Moffitt, we found out his sodium was 124. We will never know what it was during the night or exactly why he kept collapsing. Based on the work up so far, Joseph appears to have SIADH, a hormonal electrolyte imbalance not normally associated with his type of cancer. We are looking at other possible causes. The treatment is increased salt intake with fluid restriction: potato chips with nothing to drink anyone?
Joseph’s care team reminded us there is a 24/7 hotline to call to reach them and that the urgent care at Moffitt is also open 24/7 (an ER, really, but not designated as such because it is only for patients at Moffitt). His chemo was postponed a week. Meanwhile, Joseph and I need to talk about what we will do when or if we have another night like this one.