The Story So Far

Today, from his bed in Durham, Jim asked me to relay the story so far...

It’s my great pleasure to tell owners of Jim Southerland’s artwork that his drawings, paintings, and ceramic pieces are worth no more today than they were on November 19.  November 19 is the Wednesday Jim hobbled, short of breath, into Asheville’s Memorial Mission Hospital.  There, a cardiac enzyme study revealed Jim had suffered a couple of heart attacks.  The first was (surprise) sometime back in the summer.  The second was the weekend of November 16.

Jim’s heart was not happy with his body.  Indeed, much of the muscle simply couldn’t be convinced to work.  A blood pump was installed which temporarily addressed one problem (circulation) but exacerbated another: his kidneys were grumpy.  This level of grumpiness — high even for Jim — had local doctors worried enough to call in the heavy artillery.  Up the mountain came a shiny operating-room-on-wheels.  A team of eight medical professionals rode with Jim to Duke.

It might say "Duke Life Flight" on the outside, but I'm pretty sure this is really a Transformer.

At Durham’s Medicine Pavilion on the 23rd, his heart was upgraded to a couple of mechanical pumps attached to something the size of a small refrigerator.  Doctors put him on dialysis, hoping to reduce his creatinine level from 6 milligrams per deciliter to a normal level of 1 mg/dL.

A machine was circulating his blood.  A machine was breathing on his behalf.  A machine was performing the functions of his kidneys.  Nurses periodically lifted Jim from a deep, drug-induced sleep for basic neurological functions.  Disoriented, he was nevertheless able to signal and respond before receding back into the narcotics.

On Tuesday the 25th, Jim was breathing on his own.  Alongside the new pumps, a tiny sliver of his heart was still functioning, but without predictable rhythm.

The next day he was aware, but mentally cloudy.  He complained of seeing golden aphids, gnats, and mosquitos.  He was certain that someone had restrained his extremities, when in fact they were merely so swollen with edema (and he so weak from surgical procedures) that he couldn’t lift them.

He was as irritated as any of us would be in similar circumstances.  Fortunately, his nurse for the day, a Navy veteran, had recently completed a tour of duty in Afghanistan; she’d already heard most the words Jim was slurring in frustration.

When I left the day after Thanksgiving, doctors were discussing next steps.  Can he be upgraded to a smaller, internal pump?  Is he eligible for transplants (of both kidneys and heart)?  Those are still matters of concern, but they don’t have to be immediately addressed.  Jim can now stand and walk across his room (though with an attending army to keep straight a spaghetti of hoses and pumps).  His family is pretty much incredible.  They're as tight and supportive today as they've ever been, buoyed by visits and calls from many Black Mountain neighbors.

Duke Medicine Pavilion.  If you squint, you can see Jim's room on the 7th floor.

As much as I’d like to avoid clichés, circumstances such as these created those clichés in the first place.  Jim is anxious to benefit from your prayers.  During a Skype chat this morning, he told me he is also anxious to hear from alums, colleagues, students, friends, and neighbors who might care to contact him.

If you’re inclined to drop him a note, you might use his e-mail address, mail@jimsoutherland.com, or send a card using Duke's in-house patient e-mail service [here].  You could also go “old school” and use a stamp (.49 if you haven’t been paying attention).

Jim Southerland

10 Duke Medicine Circle

7 West, Room 10

Durham, NC  27710