Kalispell - Fun With DVT

The last week in Montana, we drove to Kalispell. What a beautiful drive it is - right up on the Canadian border, close to Glacier National Park. You have to drive around the enormous Flathead Lake to get there. Jagged peaks reflected in the glacial water - it is indeed what most people think of when they imagine Montana.

When we got there, we checked into a hotel. It was nice to sleep in a bed after a month of sleeping in a tent.

But my leg was really bothering me.

Back in Missoula, we had hiked to the "M". The hike had been strenuous for someone out of shape like me. When I got down, my legs were sore from the exertion for several days. After several days, the soreness went away in my right leg. It got progressively worse on my left leg.

The night we arrived in Kalispell, I went to Wal-Mart to get some quarters for laundry. As I stood in line at the customer service desk, my leg was causing me so much pain, I could hardly stand at all.

The next day, we set up our booth at the Northwest Montana Fair, which was a disorganized mess. To make matters worse, the parking was literally a mile away, and every day I limped a mile to the booth, and every night at midnight, I limped back to the car.

I was pleased to find the same Romani that had been our neighbors in Missoula to be our neighbors again in Kalispell. We made the an airbushed banner for their booth. They promised to pay us by feeding us everyday. This is the way they fed us:

"Here, I brought you some yogurts from the breakfast buffet at the hotel where we are staying. There is also some free popcorn in that building right there. Go, and get some!"

It's a good thing we weren't really depending on them.

One morning, Rose, one of the gypsy psychics brought me a gift - a stone egg with remnants of the tag still attached to it.

"I had a vision last night to give this to you. It will bring you good luck and good health. Keep it with you always. I want you to have this."

The following is the story of what happened the day I got the egg that was supposed to bring me good luck:

The pain got so bad that I couldn't stand it. Over the past few days, I had noticed vericose veins popping out on a leg that had never had them before. This same morning, I noticed swelling in my leg, and I could barely walk. Something was wrong. It was more than just soreness from the hike. Something was really wrong, and I knew it.

I talked to my brother in law. He thought I should tough it out. Soreness was good for you. I was sore, because I was out of shape. Soreness meant that I needed to hike more often.

I called my wives. They wanted me to go the ER. I limped to the EMT tent. They told me to go to the ER. I hesitated. Going to the ER, I would abandon my brother in law to the busy crowds by himself.

The fair got out at midnight. I limped back to the truck, exhausted. My wives called me and asked if I was going to the ER. I told her I would go in the morning. All I wanted was a good night's rest. Martha started to chew me out, saying that I needed to go to the ER. So I conceeded.

The doctor ordered a ultrasound. I had deep vein thrombosis (DVT) - a blood clot - in my left calf, and a smaller one in my thigh. They put me on blood thinners right away and told me to see my doctor as soon as I got back to Arizona.

The problem was - there were two more grueling days of the fair. I worked 13 hour days, and hoped that the 6 hours of sleep I was getting would be enough. At night, I would lay in bed, wondering if I would die in the night. After all, that is how my dad died - pulmonary embolism brought on by DVT.

When we finally packed up and left Kalispell, I was filled with a sense of relief. As I felt the warm sunshine on my face and imbibed the tranquil beauty of Flathead Lake one last time, I was happy to be going home. It had been six weeks since I had seen my family, and I felt that I had been through an ordeal. I felt like I could fight this from home.

We stopped in Salt Lake City to stay the night at my sister's house. I was alarmed to see that my foot and leg had swollen to twice its normal size. It looked like I had a Flintstone foot. But I had to keep going, I had to get home. The drive was uncomfortable. I could barely bend my leg as swollen as it was. My toes were tingling, and I kept a pillow propped under my leg.

The problem with getting treatment - I don't have insurance. I haven't had insurance for years. I called my doctor. I had a leftover bill from my hospital visit from last year. I called and tried to schedule an appointment. The receptionist pointed out I still had a bill. I told her that I was aware of this. I was willing to pay half of my bill the next day. She went and talked to the doctor and this was his answer:

"I talked to the doctor, and he is willing to treat you one last time. Then he wants you to get a new doctor. We are dropping you as a patient."

"Even if I pay my billl?" I demaned.

"The doctor feels that it has gone beyond that," she answered. "Do you want to shcedule an appointment?"

"Why?" I responded bitterly. "I need ongoing care. Why would I see him only once. I'll find a new doctor."

The truth is - I know why the doctor dropped me, and so does he. When I was in the hospital last year, we had a little conversation. Don't ask me why I did it. He asked me how many kids I have. I told him, and then I told him how many wives I have. The doctor is LDS, and I literally saw the hate in his eyes after that. He finished treating me, but even as he discharged me, he looked at me with hatred. This was not a case of my delinquent bill, as the receptionist lef me to believe. It was plain discrimination. I know it. And the doctor knows it.

I had my wife call the kids' pediatrician - an old Mormon, cowboy doctor. He agreed to see me.

After two days of traveling, I pulled into my house. It had been raining, as Arizona was in the middle of its monsoon season. So the ground was muddy. This didn't stop my kids from running out to see me. I limped inside, and let the girls put me in bed with pillows propped under my leg. My leg was huge.

I didn't know what was going to happen, but I was happy. If I was going to die, it would be at home and not in Montana.

Tomorrow, I will fill you in with the rest of my little tale...