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What It Feels Like...

(page 17 of 17)

… To Have a Bloody Good Time in the Caribbean

John Calhoun
In Springfield, he’s a vice-president of Merrill Lynch’s Springfield office, but on the water he’s more of a sailor. During one trip in the British Virgin Islands, a rupture in his esophagus while on board the boat made his trip—and his chances of surviving—look grim.
BY JOHN CALHOUN, AS TOLD TO BEN PFEIFFER
  

I have a 51-foot sailboat, a nice sized boat. It’s got air-conditioning and generators and so on. I bought it two or three years ago. The boat was built in France. About a year ago I was sailing in the Virgin Islands on the British side—now that’s important because you’re in a different country.

I have traveled all over the world: Europe a half a dozen times, Africa twice, the Orient. I never really had any trouble. The trip was May 2006, after I had been to Croatia. Me and a friend, Deborah, took the boat out. When you’re on a boat, you go to bed with the sun and you get up with the sun. Time loses significance. So I woke up one morning, and I was having my coffee. I had a little twinge—I didn’t feel good. I thought it was seasickness. Then I thought I had stomach pain. Then I got violently sick. I ran for the steps up out of the galley, and when I did I threw up pure blood. Bright red. I threw up blood all the way to the back of the boat.

Later physicians told me I lost half my blood or better. I said to Deborah, “I’m in trouble. We got to get in.” I pulled the anchor and we started toward the base. It took two hours. I called my sister, and I told her, “I’m in trouble. I have lost a lot of blood.”

I couldn’t think when we docked. I was in shock. I had no ability to think at all. I couldn’t think, “How do I dock? How do I stop the boat?” We had an ambulance waiting. I took one step and said, “I can’t walk.”

The significance of this whole thing is: It’s a foreign country. You’re not in US waters. They took me to a doctor—that’s the process, you have to go to a doctor before you go to a hospital—and the inside of the office was painted very sloppy blue. The doctor gave me a saline solution and sent me to the hospital. This would look like a Colonial house to you or me. I would guess it had 10 rooms in it, and on the porch of the emergency room there was a rooster. This is how remote a lot of the Caribbean is.

The doctor was going to do a procedure to look down my throat without anesthetic, and I told him, “No, you’re not going to do that.”

“Are you refusing treatment?” he said.

I said, “Yes, I want to go to the U.S.”

He said, “If you’re not going to let us treat you, then get out of here.”

I went and lay on the front porch with the rooster. There were natives around. Deborah had been on the phone constantly trying to get something together.

The short and sweet of it is—and I learned this—if you’re in a foreign country, and you have a medical emergency, the doctors have to write you a release before you can leave. It says they’ve done all they can. Without this, it is considered dumping. I didn’t know that. Three hours later, all the airplanes had left. I knew I was in big trouble.

Deborah got an ambulance to take me back to the marina and found a room where I could lie down in the bed. My kids called me, and I could hardly talk to them.

One of the things that saved my life is that Deborah is a business executive, and she knew how to get things done. She knew who to call. Constant communication was going on. And she wouldn’t let me eat. She only let me suck on ice cubes. That saved my life. I was pumping blood right out of my heart and lungs before.

At five o’ clock the next morning, we went to the airport, and finally Deborah managed to get us on a Cessna commuter. This is 24 hours later. My understanding is most of the people who have this condition bleed out right there. They die. I didn’t die. And the wound didn’t reopen when I flew, which is amazing. I was very lucky. If I had known then what I know now, I would have stopped there. I wouldn’t have got into the pressurized cabin. It was a godsend that it didn’t break again. There was a medical team set up in Miami. Deborah had it set up.

The condition was caused by the rupture of an esophageal varices. Also, thanks to modern technology, I was free of the condition after several procedures performed by a gastroenterologist. I’m thankful to be alive and value life more than most people can imagine. I’ve had a second chance that most in the same position would never have experienced. I cherish every day now.

Why it didn’t bleed again in the cabin on the airplane? I don’t know. They did work on my throat and I got some transfusions. And I lived. I’m very thankful. Everything they say about a near-death experience is true. Life is very precious, and it’s short at the best. It does change your life. The way I view life now is totally different than it was years ago. I have a chance to live a normal, healthy life. I’m not going to waste it.