Teen Stories: How air in my lungs ruined my week

"Another boring day of this class," I thought as I sat in my seat during my dual enrollment class. It had been a while since I had been in this class, and 99% of it was busy work, so I usually spent most of the time sleeping after doing all my assignments. All the students in the class were high school students, hand-picked to be in this program which included taking this terrible class with all expenses paid. My computer stayed open before me, with the assignment somewhat complete. Sleep was overwhelming me (which was quite normal for me), my partner was absent, and my chest had this weird pain like a tiny needle was poking me on my right side. The teacher called out my name and I awoke being called by a classmate. I panicked as I saw my assignment was empty.

The teacher said something along the lines of "I'm gonna see if you're gonna get points off for not being prepared," but I didn't care that much as the class was not that interesting and he was clearly bluffing. I finished up my assignment and waited for class to end. The pain in my chest was flaring up sometimes, so I rubbed my right side thinking it was just heartburn. But when the class finally ended, I got up and walked down the halls, and that's when it began. I was walking to my bus thinking to myself when a classmate called out to me. She ran up to me and we were casually discussing class activities and our classmates when suddenly the pain in my right chest was unimaginable, like something I'd never felt before.

I eventually managed to drag myself to the waiting area for my bus home. My chest was hurting a lot at this point. My classmate asked if she should call campus safety seeing my condition, but I denied still thinking it wasn't that serious. But as I sat down and tried my best to ignore it, the pain was taking over. At this point, I'd already tried rubbing on it and drinking water. But drinking water made it worse, and breathing deeply made it hurt even more. Now I was getting scared and frustrated, so instead of going on the bus, I texted my dad to pick me up urgently. Keep in mind my mom was out of town during this time so it was already really busy at home with my dad needing to work and no one else being at home. I waited for what felt like a long time until finally, I got a phone call saying what I'd hoped to hear: my dad had arrived.

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I walked out of the building and headed to my dad's car, running to get there as quickly as possible. But as soon as I ran the pain was too much. I bit my teeth together – my stress response – and immediately I had to slow down. I walked trying to ignore the increasing pain as I got into the car. My dad asked me what was going on, and I explained in between winces of pain. As he was questioning me about my situation he was in a phone call with my mother, and we decided to go to the urgent care. But as we got onto the main road, my chest pain was worsening and even thousands of miles away, my mom could sense there was something wrong, so she told my dad to take me to the emergency room instead (a decision that would prove good later).

After some time of waiting in the waiting area, I was triaged and brought into the emergency room. As I walked in I saw beds lined along the hallways and watched in shock as I was brought to one of these beds literally in the hallway. Minutes passed without much happening, besides a nurse coming and taking an EKG for me. After several minutes of anxious waiting, I started to think I was making a big deal out of nothing. Maybe it was just heartburn. Maybe I should have gone to the urgent care. As a resident doctor finally arrived, she asked a few questions and decided to prescribe Tylenol and heartburn medicine to see if it helped. Although deep down inside I knew this wasn't heartburn, I decided that following this was probably the best form of treatment I was gonna get at this immediate moment, so I decided to wait and receive the medication.

The medicine did not work. Not that I expected it to, after all, I knew what heartburn was. I sat in the chair in continued pain for what seemed like at least an hour. Finally, an x-ray technician came by to tell me that an x-ray had been ordered for me, so me and my dad followed him to a room. I was told to hold my breath and lean up into the panel so that they could take photos of me. I knew it was gonna hurt because even the slightest movement of my chest and any breathing at all triggered flare-ups of pain. But despite this, I desperately wanted answers, so I had to get through the pain, and I did. I took the test and finished and went back to waiting. In between bouts of pain, I was able to also witness other people getting diagnosed and different activities in the emergency room. I saw concerned parents bringing in children for head injuries, fevers, and one kid with some mysterious infection. I was witnessing everything, without any walls to hold patient privacy in, which I found concerning, but I guess that's the price of a bustling emergency room.

Finally, after what seemed like 1 or 2 hours of waiting, it was around 5 p.m. "I'm not going to get any work done tonight," I thought, expecting to go home soon. As usual, things at the hospital moved very slowly, even patients with minor issues hadn't left yet. Finally, a doctor arrived (not a resident but a full doctor), and she spent less than a minute talking to us. In the conversation, she said that my lung collapsed and she was contacting the pediatric surgery team to come up with a plan. Me and my dad were both confused – how could this happen without me doing anything? When prompted the doctor explained the situation: lung collapses can happen randomly to teenagers, especially "tall skinny boys". Although my dad knew I was skinny he did find it funny that his 5'4" son was described as "tall".

Later that night...

I was now moved to an actual emergency room – they were reserved for people who needed oxygen and more serious cases. I had no issue breathing, but the doctors wanted to see if putting me on oxygen for a night would resolve the issue. The alternative was a non-invasive procedure which would require a tube in my chest. I had a meeting with the specialist – a pediatric surgery doctor – who explained that the condition wasn't too big of an issue but that I should expect to be out of school for the rest of the week.

After the conversation, my dad quickly rushed home to get work done and grab my stuff. Meanwhile, I was being rolled down to my room. "Do you guys always have beds in the hallway?" I asked. The nurse that was rolling me down explained that a some of the time there were hallway patients, but that the situation in the adult emergency room was much worse. Despite my condition, thoughts roamed my head such as "How could patients be forced to be treated in the hallway? Does it not violate HIPPA?". But now was not the time for searching for answers to these questions – it was time to catch some sleep.

It was now early morning. My sleep schedule was completely messed up – the person next to me had broken a lot of bones in an accident and the moans of pain took away most my sleep – but I had an X-ray to do, which I knew would show no change; the pain was still there. A radiologist arrived a few moments later with a mobile X-ray machine. I sat in my bed and got my pictures taken.

Just as predicted, the pictures showed there was still air in my chest cavity, so the intravenous radiology team was called. What is intravenous radiology? Well it's main goal is to have non-invasive surgery using small needles and radiology tools to access important areas. The plan was simple: under a CT machine and sedated, I would have a small tube attached to the area where the trapped air/fluid was in my chest cavity.

Spontaneous pneumothorax, that's what I found out I had after searching online. The research was unclear as to why exactly air builds up randomly in the first place, but smoking was described as a factor increasing the chances. Now I didn't smoke, although I was asked if I did the night before (when I was being prepared for admission). I watched as I got rolled into a room where the procedure was going to be done. An anesthesiologist injected me with a sedative while a nurse put these little EKG monitoring stickers on me. Before I fell asleep I saw a doctor look at one of the stickers and realize it was exactly where the procedure was supposed to be done, which I found humorous. Then, of course, I fell asleep and woke up with the procedure being done and me being rolled onto a bed and returned to my room.

The pain as I rolled into my room was worse than ever, and now with the chest tube inside of my chest, my body was filling the area with even more pain. However on the brighter side of things, I was assigned a new roommate who was dealing with the same condition. I was told to rate my pain from 1-10 with which I told my nurse it was a 7, and she gave me medication in an attempt to soothe the pain. I also got told that going to the bathroom had become more complicated – I had to pee inside of a cup while lying down (I had to use the cup the night before as well but in the actual bathroom) and a number 2 required assistance from a nurse – so I tried to avoid going as much as possible for that day. When I did have to go, my roommate explained how to make the process easier. The relief of having someone else who experienced the same thing next to me was great.

Fast forward to nighttime

As nighttime approached, I scrolled through my phone texting my friends and classmates while also scrolling online. Time was passing slowly, and by the night, the hospital seemed more boring than even the worst classes at school. I was already wondering when I would be released. My dad had brought his computer so I could watch Netflix but unfortunately, it was out of charge so I had been on my phone for pretty much the whole day. Another downside was that I was sweating a lot but there was no chance of being able to shower. I was bored, I felt disgusting, and there was pain everywhere. Throughout the day my mom and brother called and talked to me as well as some other family members.

The next day...

As daylight approached, I took another X-ray so they could monitor my progress. Wednesday was quite uneventful: one meeting with the doctor yielding no answers of when I would be discharged and many many nurses checks. By now every section of my body felt disgusting, I was exhausted from lying around all day. Other than that, my third day didn't have much else going on.

At nighttime I watched Hometown Cha- Cha-Cha which was a great "slice-of-life" drama. It featured good drama, a great backstory, and plenty of fun moments. The drama was good enough to get me through the tough time at the hospital and it passed a lot of time, providing a great distraction.

Thursday rolled around at last. It felt like this week was the longest week ever. Life was always so fast for me, I went to school, did class, and went home. By the time I got home more than half the day was already over. But in the hospital, every minute feels like an hour. There was nothing to do and the boredom was making me itch to finally be able to get out again.

The day's first highlight came when the nurse finally told me that I could now walk. I was instructed to carry around the chest pump as I was still draining. My roommate was a bit ahead in the process but we could both sense the end of the journey and the excitement was clear in the room.

I decided to take a walk as one of the nurses advised to me. I explored the hospital, making my way to a sort of sitting area where kids could play and talk. As I walked back to my room, I could finally make out the layout of the floor and how everything looked. I returned to my room to watch more K-drama to pass my time.

The next highlight came when my cousins and friends visited. My friends from my dual enrollment class made fun of me because I wrote a text that my lung collapsed in such a casual manner and we took pictures. All in all a very good experience. My dad also brought some food me and my cousins feasted for lunch.

The next highlight was getting my pump removed. A nurse and a physician's assistant came over. One administered local anesthesia while another explained to me the process – the "pigtail tube" would be removed while I was awake, and I was free to watch or look away. When the time came I opted to hum as I felt a strong pinch as the item was removed followed by intense pain for 2 seconds and then nothing. I watched as the nurse cleaned up my surgery site and bandaged it. I was disappointed to hear I couldn't shower till the following Monday but excited that I was now discharge-ready.

The final highlight came at night. My roommate had already been discharged and I knew I was next. I waited with Netflix and my phone as the hospital slowly processed my discharge. It was around 4 or 5 when I was told discharge is likely, but 9 pm when I got discharged. We packed up our things, and my dad got the car. We drove home and boy did I have a story to tell my classmates.

Conclusion

I'm no storyteller and his one's probably very dry compared to the books you've read. Creative writing is not my thing, but I hope you guys enjoyed this story about my experience. If you have questions or comments about my experience or find an issue with this article feel free to email me at [email protected] or DM us on Instagram below!

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