Michael Macfeat
Lower Intestine with Meckel's Diverticulum Descending the Staircase
Meckel's Diverticulum is a birth defect that is a bulge or a branch off of the intestine. This condition, combined with a couple of other physical anomalies plus my avoidance of seeking medical attention resulted in a near-death experience.
I began to experience an intermittent and incredibly sharp pain in my lower abdominal area that over a five day period increased to become unyielding and by far the most pain I had ever experienced, even briefly. The pain was so intense that I was unable to stand upright.
Finally I went to the Emergency Room of Jefferson Hospital. After five hours I was admitted but placed on a gurney in the hallway to wait for surgery. It was assumed that my gall bladder was the cause of the pain. I spent several hours in the hallway waiting for a surgeon to become available. During the wait, the police brought in a man who they had shot during a gun-battle that ensued after the two men resisted arrest. They had earlier robbed an acquaintance of mine at gunpoint near my apartment. The man's pants were entirely red from being drenched with his own blood. Meanwhile, I'm watching this scene laying on my side waiting for a room to open up before my surgery. The villains had shot two of the police, who returned fire and killed the first perpetrator in the street. The second man, the one in Jefferson Hospital with me, died from loss of blood.
They began cutting me right under my sternum since they thought my gall bladder was the cause of the pain. Although I had passed a gall stone the size of a marble, it wasn't the location or the cause of the pain. They cut me following the path of destruction that the gall stone created and finally stopped 2" below my navel. The reason for my pain at this instance was that the gall stone had lodged in the Meckel's Diverticulum. To complicate matters, my appendix, due to the oddity of another birth defect, was in the wrong location and directly adjacent to the Meckel. As the Meckel became infected it caused necrosis of the appendix as well.
It was necessary to remove my entire intestines and put them on a tray to perform the surgery.
When I came out of anesthesia after the surgery, I saw four heads floating in a black space. I thought that I was on the verge of getting in a fight at a roughneck bar we used to frequent on South Street. As I regained more consciousness I realized that the heads were not hooligans but the surgical staff, but not before I spent a couple of minutes warning them not to come any closer and threatening them that I would knock them out.
The likelihood of having two separate birth defects contributing to a situation that bordering on death had such astronomical odds that a symposium was called at Jefferson Hospital about the case. Presented with only the preliminary information that they had available before they cut me open, every surgeon in Jefferson Hospital mis-diagnosed the malady including the Head Of Surgery at the hospital.
I was in the hospital for 14 days. I used to get dressed and with my daughter's help, detach the intravenous tubes and reattach them after I put my shirt on. I would then wheel the I. V. tower down to the street for cigarettes breaks. Of course this was entirely against hospital policy but I figured that I was pissed off and inconvenienced enough already without going through withdrawal symptoms.
Particularly during the first few days, my daughter Maura would hit the button on the Morphine drip for me while I slept. Because she knew I was in excruciating pain, she figured that since I hadn't already killed myself with drugs in the 70's that Morphine wasn't going to kill me now. I will never be able to thank Maura enough for the care and love she graced me with during that hospital stay. She also was my advocate with the hospital staff and doctors, which was an invaluable help since I was in too much pain and too whacked out to do it myself.
It was three years before I could sit up from a laying position in bed. I rolled out of bed. I could only sleep in one position, laying on my left side, for two years.
The abdominal scar is 13" long and it altered the topology of my mid-section permanently. My navel is a reconstruction and not even in the same place as my real one. It is a total fabrication.
To this day I have a very difficult time looking at the scar and I avoid it at all costs. Frankenstein would wince at the sight of this wound.
Lower Intestine with Meckel's Diverticulum Descending the Staircase
Meckel's Diverticulum is a birth defect that is a bulge or a branch off of the intestine. This condition, combined with a couple of other physical anomalies plus my avoidance of seeking medical attention resulted in a near-death experience.
I began to experience an intermittent and incredibly sharp pain in my lower abdominal area that over a five day period increased to become unyielding and by far the most pain I had ever experienced, even briefly. The pain was so intense that I was unable to stand upright.
Finally I went to the Emergency Room of Jefferson Hospital. After five hours I was admitted but placed on a gurney in the hallway to wait for surgery. It was assumed that my gall bladder was the cause of the pain. I spent several hours in the hallway waiting for a surgeon to become available. During the wait, the police brought in a man who they had shot during a gun-battle that ensued after the two men resisted arrest. They had earlier robbed an acquaintance of mine at gunpoint near my apartment. The man's pants were entirely red from being drenched with his own blood. Meanwhile, I'm watching this scene laying on my side waiting for a room to open up before my surgery. The villains had shot two of the police, who returned fire and killed the first perpetrator in the street. The second man, the one in Jefferson Hospital with me, died from loss of blood.
They began cutting me right under my sternum since they thought my gall bladder was the cause of the pain. Although I had passed a gall stone the size of a marble, it wasn't the location or the cause of the pain. They cut me following the path of destruction that the gall stone created and finally stopped 2" below my navel. The reason for my pain at this instance was that the gall stone had lodged in the Meckel's Diverticulum. To complicate matters, my appendix, due to the oddity of another birth defect, was in the wrong location and directly adjacent to the Meckel. As the Meckel became infected it caused necrosis of the appendix as well.
It was necessary to remove my entire intestines and put them on a tray to perform the surgery.
When I came out of anesthesia after the surgery, I saw four heads floating in a black space. I thought that I was on the verge of getting in a fight at a roughneck bar we used to frequent on South Street. As I regained more consciousness I realized that the heads were not hooligans but the surgical staff, but not before I spent a couple of minutes warning them not to come any closer and threatening them that I would knock them out.
The likelihood of having two separate birth defects contributing to a situation that bordering on death had such astronomical odds that a symposium was called at Jefferson Hospital about the case. Presented with only the preliminary information that they had available before they cut me open, every surgeon in Jefferson Hospital mis-diagnosed the malady including the Head Of Surgery at the hospital.
I was in the hospital for 14 days. I used to get dressed and with my daughter's help, detach the intravenous tubes and reattach them after I put my shirt on. I would then wheel the I. V. tower down to the street for cigarettes breaks. Of course this was entirely against hospital policy but I figured that I was pissed off and inconvenienced enough already without going through withdrawal symptoms.
Particularly during the first few days, my daughter Maura would hit the button on the Morphine drip for me while I slept. Because she knew I was in excruciating pain, she figured that since I hadn't already killed myself with drugs in the 70's that Morphine wasn't going to kill me now. I will never be able to thank Maura enough for the care and love she graced me with during that hospital stay. She also was my advocate with the hospital staff and doctors, which was an invaluable help since I was in too much pain and too whacked out to do it myself.
It was three years before I could sit up from a laying position in bed. I rolled out of bed. I could only sleep in one position, laying on my left side, for two years.
The abdominal scar is 13" long and it altered the topology of my mid-section permanently. My navel is a reconstruction and not even in the same place as my real one. It is a total fabrication.
To this day I have a very difficult time looking at the scar and I avoid it at all costs. Frankenstein would wince at the sight of this wound.