I am not a person who easily asks for help.  I have always worked through tough times on my own, not wanting to burden anyone with my problems.  But, I need to ask you for help now.  There is a medical program at the Cleveland Clinic that has a treatment I need.  Their Chronic Pain Management program lasts for 3-4 weeks where I would need to stay in Cleveland.  I can't afford the cost of temporary housing while I am there.  The reasons I need this treatment are a little complicated, so please bear with me while I tell you my story.

I had successful bariatric surgery in 2008.  I lost over 140 pounds and it renewed my quality of life.  I had energy to do things I would never have attempted before the surgery.  I successfully maintained my weight for over 8 1/2 years.  But, then I started having pain.

In June of 2016, my shoulder became achy, sore, and stiff.  I went to a couple of specialists who determined it was an inflammatory autoimmune condition and I was prescribed Prednisone.  Now, anyone who is familiar with this steroid can tell you, you will gain weight, a lot of weight.  I was on Prednisone for 18 months, and during the last 11 months, I gained over a hundred pounds.

Gaining all of that weight back was definitely discouraging and frustrating, but that isn't even the problem I need your help with.  This sudden, dramatic weight gain caused a previously small hiatal hernia to become much larger.  So much larger that it caused an area just under my rib cage to bulge out and become very tender to even touch it.

I went back to my original bariatric surgeon to have my hernia looked at.  After having a barium swallow X-ray and an EGD scope exam, he told me that I needed to have surgery . . .  soon.  He would, also, evaluate my gastric pouch, from the original bariatric surgery, and perform any revisions were necessary.

I went in for surgery on May 8th, 2018 . . . . and so began my month of medical hell.

In the beginning of the surgery, there was a tube inserted down my throat that was supposed to end up in my gastric pouch.  Instead, it punctured my esophagus, and entered my chest cavity.  Once the surgeon realized that my esophagus was punctured, he stopped the surgery.  I was brought out of anesthesia and emergency transported to a larger hospital.

I was met at the ER entrance by a surgeon who sternly told me that if he didn't perform surgery,    I . . . would . . . Die.   I was whisked into an operating room, sedated, and a he performed a thoracotomy. 
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A thoracotomy is where an incision is made across the left side of your ribs, just under your breast tissue.  Then your rib cage is spread apart so the surgeon can access your chest cavity.  This surgery is known as one of the most painful surgeries a person can go through.  The surgeon repaired my punctured esophagus and inserted several drainage tubes to remove any gastric fluids that could have leaked into the chest area.  If any of those fluids settled in the sac surrounding my heart, I could die from the infection it would cause.

I came out of anesthesia and was put into the cardio/thorasic ward of the hospital.  I had some wonderful, dedicated, and hard-working nurses and nursing assistants who helped with my care.  They kept the pain from the surgery in check with medication and took care of my needs.  When the surgeon came around, I asked about the surgery, but also asked what happened to the hiatal hernia repair.  My husband had been told by my bariatric surgeon that he was assisting with the emergency thoracotomy, to complete the hernia repair and bariatric revision.  But, the thorasic surgeon informed me that he does not have other surgeons assist on his surgeries, and that the hernia was not repaired.  I would have to come back in 3-4 months to have another surgery to repair the hernia and have the bariatric revision.  This was very concerning to me and I expressed my concerns to the surgical staff.

I worked hard to recover in the hospital, getting up and walking as much as I could, even though I was battling through the post-surgical pain.  I was discharged 8 days after the surgery and went home.

Within 36 hours, the pressure in my hernia began increasing, causing it to become even larger.  It began pulling my internal organs from my abdomen into my chest cavity and started to collapse my lungs.  When I couldn't swallow my pain pills and began to have trouble breathing, my husband raced me back to the hospital ER, where we met the same thorasic surgeon.

He performed a SECOND thoracotomy, going through the same incisions and drainage tube holes from the first surgery.  He, again, spread apart the ribs that were just starting to heal.  I was under anesthesia for 5 1/2 hours and was admitted to the ICU, with a breathing tube still down my throat.  I was unconscious for the first 2 days in the ICU and I wish I had stayed that way while I was there.  The next 2 days in the ICU unit were pure hell.  I was in excruciating pain, and endured some of the most horrible, degrading, and humiliating treatment by the night nurses while in this unit.  I finally told someone that I didn't want these night-time ICU nurses to touch me ever again, and I requested to be moved out of the ICU.

I was put back in the same cardio/thorasic unit I was in before. I was glad to see some familiar faces in the nursing staff.  This time, my recovery was painfully slow.  I felt incredibly weak, and I didn't have the energy to do much of anything.  I continued to have problems managing my pain.

There's also something you need to know.  I have Fibromyalgia.  I have had Fibro for over 20 years.  But, I had learned to block out most of the fibro pain, refusing to let it interfere with most of the activities in my life.  Of course, I had my limits.  But, I knew how to avoid them and live a full life.  I have had two children, went through a couple surgeries, even survived breaking my leg.  But the pain from these 3 surgeries, all within a two week period,  was quickly becoming too much to bear.

I was discharged for a second time, against my wishes, as I pleaded with hospital staff that I needed in-patient rehabilitation therapy.  I know my own body and it was yelling "pain, Pain, PAIN!!".  But, home I went, with orders to get out-patient physical therapy.  My mother had to come stay with us for weeks, just to take care of me.

I have spent the last 6 months of my life stumbling through the most basic of life's activities.  The pain is, well, everywhere in my body.  I now have joint pain in my fingers, the base of my thumb joints, the tip of my elbows, my shoulders, my hips (Oh, the pain in my hip joints!), my knees and across my feet.  I have muscle pain across the top of my shoulders, my lower back, and thighs.  All of this pain triggers my fibromyalgia.  I have been in a full blown fibro flare-up since these surgeries.

Then, there's the pain from the incision site.  The searing, burning stinging pain across my rib-cage.  There's the stabbing pain at each of the drainage tube sites.  The top left side of my abdomen has a pain and tenderness that never goes away.  And, there's the ribs . . . a cough, sneeze, blowing my nose, causes the ribs to separate.  I feel like an accordion file, opening and closing.  I have some good days, when I can do some normal activities, but, I end up paying for them for 3-4 days afterwards.

I fear that I may not be able to return to the full quality of life I had before this surgical injury.  I need to get control over this never ceasing pain that has taken over my life.  Right now, I am taking 5 different medications to alleviate the pain, and, none of them are working.  The Chronic Pain Management program at the Cleveland Clinic is an intensive, all day, 5 days a week program that will last 3-4 weeks depending on how well the patient progresses.  The patient learns to re-train their body and mind with how it perceives the pain signals they experience.  I would need to stay in Cleveland during this time, and we just can't afford this extra expense right now.  

We have already spent over five thousand dollars on medical costs this year.  I am going out on disability and bills are getting tough.

Telling this story seems so surreal.  How can all of these medical mistakes happen to one person?  I can only tell you that they happened to me.

This is very hard for me.  I am normally a very private person.  I do not share my life's activities, trials or tribulations on Facebook or any other social media sites.  But, I need to do this for my family.  They have been affected by this trauma, too.  I can't ask them to sacrifice any more.

I know that I have asked so many people for donations for my campaign elections in the past.  That was a cause that I believe in; working to help our state and the people in our communities.  But this "ask" is personal.  I need to set up the appointments for this program as soon as possible.  My job is in jeopardy if I can't manage to get back to work soon.  I am hoping to begin their program just after the beginning of the New Year.  So, time is short.

Ten, twenty, or fifty dollars will help with my expenses during this stay.  I have researched options for long-term housing close to the Cleveland Clinic.  Your donations will help pay for the least expensive choices that are available.  Can you help me?