Hungry, Hungry Hippos

I survived my surgery.

Of course I did! Those of you who’ve been following this blog may recall that I was due to have surgery to remove an anomaly on my parathyroid, a quartet of glands near the throat that control calcium distribution throughout the human body (you can read my last post here). The parathyroidectomy was performed at Vanderbilt on September 16th with minimal pain afterwards (much to my relief). I still have occasional discomfort that feels like a sore throat; a steri-strip bandage remains over the stitching, said to fade in time. And good news: doctors were able to save my thyroid itself, which means no unexpected weight gain, squeaky voice, or hormonal imbalance.

And yet as I write this, I’m on day 15 of a post-op hospital stay. So what happened?

Do you remember commercials that played between Saturday morning cartoons and advertised milk? Drink milk, they said. Milk contains calcium. Calcium creates healthy bones. Forget all of that. The ENT to whom I was referred did a great job explaining things matter-of-factly. According to Dr. White, too much calcium is as bad as a too little. A person with a normal calcium count might have a number between 1 and 65. Someone with an elevated count, concerned about brittle bones and other side effects, might be around 150. I was at 2000.

My malfunctioning parathyroid gland was producing so much excess calcium it was literally breaking down my bones. That broken arm and shoulder after my hiking accident in September 2024? Caused by brittle bones; I have little doubt now that had I had a healthy calcium count I would have been able to simply dust myself after my fall and finish my hike without needing a costly chopper evac. That Brown’s tumor in my left elbow? Not the bone spur from overuse that I thought it was, but a byproduct of hyperparathyroidism. All that knee pain I’ve been experiencing lately? You guessed it. What would have come next had I postponed or declined surgery? An increased limp…greater bow-leggedness…kidney stones…more broken bones…and death.

There’s just one problem: You can’t correct a calcium count that’s been 2000 for what I presume was several years and not expect your bones to overreact. Hypocalcemia occurs when a body’s calcium count is deficient. Hungry bones syndrome – my current malady – occurs when a body’s calcium anomaly is overcorrected so dramatically that one’s bones consume every drop of calcium that is produced, and crave more in dangerous ways. Numbness around the mouth, like really chapped lips. Tingling in the extremities. A general sense of “confusion” – light-headedness and trouble maintaining one’s balance. Eventually, seizures, cardiac arrest…and death.

Six days post-op, I had a friend give me a ride to the emergency room. They ran lots of tests, took lots of blood, and admitted me. They hooked me to an IV and began the long process of replenishing my calcium. Other key electrolytes—magnesium, phosphate, etc.—were also critically low.  Thus began 11 days at University of Tennessee Medical Center, in a lonely room on UT’s brain and spine floor. Phlebotomists would collect blood four times/day while nurses would administer pills, continually changing the mix until finally, my numbers began to stabilize. The next step was to wean me off the calcium IV drip in exchange for calcium pills, and to hope my levels stayed the same. They did…eventually.

It wasn’t all bad. The food, for the most part, was good, the doctors immediately identified the issue, and the nurses and CNAs were wonderful. If you run a hospital or doctor’s office and are reading this: pay your nurses better.

In May, I visited an orthopedic doctor regarding a knotty bump on my left elbow, which I believed to be a bone spur from overuse. (I broke my right arm the previous September in my aforementioned hiking accident and had been overcompensating with my left ever since.) The lesion itself didn’t hurt, but it put pressure on the muscles further down my arm so that simple tasks like filling a pot of water to boil pasta became quite painful. Several X-rays, a bone scan, CT scan, MRI, and biopsy later and I learned that the lesion was a Brown’s tumor, a side effect of hyperparathyroidism. I took comfort knowing that the tumor was supposed to shrink after my eventual parathyroidectomy.

 But I was racing the clock, and losing. Five days before surgery, I woke up and couldn’t move my arm. An X-ray revealed that the tumor’s growth had outpaced earlier projections and that the periosteum, or outer layer of bone, was so thin that it was on the verge of breaking. The ortho staff placed a protective splint around the arm and scheduled a CT scan for six days after my parathyroidectomy—this test to ensure, post-op, that their original recommendation was the correct one: elbow and upper arm reconstruction surgery, complete with bone graft and steel or titanium plate!

Time is funny, though, and so are bones. The elbow officially broke sometime between then and now, and the bone was so brittle I didn’t feel it happen! Post-fracture, the pain is manageable and I have more arm movement now than I did before the break. Go figure. But I may still need surgery; I’ll find out on the 10th.

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I am writing this not from University of Tennessee Medical Center but from Knoxville Rehabilitation Hospital, my home for the next two weeks. UT doctors finally discharged me with the recommendation that I spend time at an acute rehab facility to rebuild my strength. While I’m no fan of hospitals, I agree with the recommendation. Frankly, I’m knackered! I am knackered from hungry bones syndrome. I am knackered from lying in bed for 11 straight days. I am knackered from having blood drawn four times/day, and from being anemic on top of that. Finally, I am knackered from having surgery on my neck. Long term, this procedure may have saved my life, but short term, I feel much worse than before the operation. The life cycle of hungry bones syndrome is different for everyone. I have a job to get back to; I sure hope I’m on the back end of this.

Financially speaking, my troubles have only just begun. I’ve been on leave from work since 9/11. My original return date is Monday, 10/13, but I’ll be extending my medical LOA as I’m still undergoing rehab. I am grateful for excellent medical insurance, but it doesn’t cover everything. Additionally, I’ve been at my job for less than 12 months and am not eligible for full pay under the Family Medical Leave Act. I *do* receive partial pay, but it’s not what I am accustomed to and not enough to cover my normal monthly expenses, never mind extras like a biopsy anesthesia fee, or a parathyroidectomy, or the cost of lodging in Nashville for my father and I on the nights before and after surgery, or any of the countless co-pays, always $35/pop.

I thought about filing for bankruptcy. But that’s not an option, if only because I don’t know what the next six months hold in terms of doctor visits and medical bills; filing bankruptcy today doesn’t cover medical bills that generate tomorrow. I took out a personal loan—at an atrocious interest rate—earlier this year to get me through to when my current job would start. As such, relying on credit cards and additional loans isn’t a viable option, either.

I finally bit the bullet, after a friend’s urging, and opened a GoFundMe. I used the site’s AI to tell an abbreviated version of this story in a more succinct manner, and shared the link through social media, as I am about to do here. The response has left me humbled. Still and all, I’ve fallen short of my GoFundMe goal, and I suspect it won’t be enough now that I have to factor two+ weeks of hospital residency into the financial mix. And as I said in the previous paragraph, who knows what medical surprises the next six months will bring? (If nothing else, I hope it’s a cessation to my hungry bones syndrome, because I am not enjoying myself.)

Thank you, Loyal Reader, for following my story until the end. I hope you’ll help if you can, or share my link with those who can.

https://www.gofundme.com/manage/support-scotts-surgeries-recovery

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Author: gringopotpourri

Gringo - aka Scott - was born outside of Chicago and has lived most of his life in or around big cities. He spent two years of his adult life in Mexico City (talk about big cities!) and fell in love with Mexican food and culture all while weathering the challenges of life in a city with over 20 million people. Life's unpredictable journey has since brought him to Tennessee, where he is close to family and to the natural beauty of the Great Smoky Mountains. Scott also enjoys movies, hiking, top ten lists, and travel in general.

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