Round 2 - Here we go again!

Some people will do anything for a story! 

Since I enjoy writing so much and I was experiencing a bit of a dry spell of ideas, after careful deliberation (NOT) I decided to have a heart attack. 

That is, my body decided to, I was just along for the ride. 

After surgery for lung cancer only a couple of months previous, I thought I had sort of paid my dues and I could treat myself with a little bit more ice-cream, dark chocolate and potato chips, just until I was recovered of course! 

Little did I know, as they say, that the surgery had taken a major toll on my body and some of my arteries were already dangerously close to being closed off due to high cholesterol and that it wouldn't take much to bring on an attack. 

It's a little ironic that I had recently begun riding my bike a lot and my fitness level was actually "quite good". This is a direct quote from the doctor who performed a stress test on my heart only a few months ago. There were "no concerns" according to him and the minor twinges I had been experiencing were most likely caused by the muscles around my heart. Well I'm calling bull-poop on that! 

As we all know, hindsight has exceptional vision and sometimes through the topsy turvey randomness of chance, crap happens. It may turn out to be fortuitous or sometimes it goes against you, who can say why?

Now, on to the story. 

Rose and I had driven out on Friday afternoon to spend the weekend at the cabin and I was excited to make major renovations to the outhouse. Believe it or not, some city folk are squeamish about using a good old fashioned pit toilet.

Their over active imagination can't help but conjure up images of crazed weasels latching onto any exposed or dangling bits and causing them big time grief. 

Some others are afraid of spiders or have sensitive noses and can't take the smell that they imagine must be present in a biffy house. As it happens, our back house is about as sweet smelling as they come. 

We use lye crystals, ash from campfires, charcoal from a friends BBQ and occasionally good old fashioned dirt to keep the odor down. Rose also has a little automatic spritzy thing to puff out some sweet smelling stuff and that also helps. Be that as it may, perception is reality as they say, and in an effort to make people more comfortable during their visit I was determined to install a flush RV toilet. 

I researched it, got Roses approval and purchased one, along with various installation accessories and a sheet of plywood to put in a new floor. 

Now, one of the less pleasant jobs when dealing with a pit toilet like ours is cleaning out the pit. I can hear you now saying "eeiyuuuue" as you imagine what that means! 

For myself, having spent many summers out at "the farm" belonging to my Auntie Evelyn and Uncle Alfred as a kid and having been put to work shoveling out the barn on many occasions, I actually don't mind the job. I don't look forward to it of course, that would just be weird! 

But I don't mind the job….. much. 

Tipping up the outhouse

The hardest part is tipping the outhouse over so you can get at the "sump", after that it's just a little shoveling and shazaam, a clean, sweet smelling biffy. (For a while) So on the day of “the event” I got to work and it's a hot, strenuous job. I had to make a few trips up and down the hill with the product of my labour (so to speak) and I'm pretty breathless and tired and at Roses urging I did stop a few times for a rest. And then I'm done and it's time to push the outhouse back in place but I'm very tired so I get cleaned up and stop for lunch. 

After lunch I decided to take a longer break and rest up on the bed before going back to work. But after a few minutes I began to feel strange; it started out as a similar feeling to very bad indigestion before spreading into my chest, arms and jaw as a very painful aching sensation and then it gradually eased off and went away. 

I was still thinking “whew, whatever that was, I’m glad it’s gone” when it started to come back again, more intense then the first time. At that point I gobbled down 5 baby aspirin, chewing 2 and swallowing 3 and when Rose asked me if I was ok, I told her “no, I have to go to the hospital.” 

We quickly grabbed a few things and closed up the cabin and headed to the hospital in Camrose, 30 long minutes away.

Rose is not a speeder or a passer on the highway and she definitely doesn’t drive through red lights while laying on the horn but she did all of those things and more. I’ll never forget clutching my chest, yelling “step on it, just go, pass this guy, don’t stop, go through the light, it’s ok, you’re doing great and similar things while poor Rose was just trying to find the hospital while trying to drive with tears in her eyes, crying from fear and stress.

I do not recommend it! 

Of course because of construction somehow hiding the hospital sign we actually drove past the turnoff and had to backtrack once I realized that we had missed it. At this point I was clutching my chest with one hand and trying to find the hospital on Google maps but wouldn’t you know it? The GPS couldn’t connect! It only took a couple of minutes to find the hospital but every second of delay seemed like a big deal to both of us at this point. 

We pulled up to the Emergency department bay doors and then drove right inside, expecting to find a highly excited medical team rushing to meet us, yelling things like “100cc of thoratzahepathizne stat!” 

Strangely, it was deserted and Rose helped me along as I staggered into the building, still clutching my chest, in terrible pain as Rose yelled out, “HELP, my husband is having a heart attack!” 

I ended up leaning against a wall as someone pushed a wheel chair under me and told me to sit down before wheeling me over to an exam room and beginning to examine and treat me. I remember an EKG and 3 sprays of Nitro under my tongue having little effect on the pain and then some morphine that brought some relief before eventually seeing a doctor and getting a handful of “anti-coagulants” I think they were called. 

When the doctor finally appeared; after a long string of “don’t worry, he’s coming soon, you’re next, he’ll be right with you” etc. etc. It turned out to be the same doctor who had seen me at the Sturgeon hospital emergency room back in February, what are the odds? I’ve been to the emergency room exactly twice in the last ten years and both times the same doctor, in hospitals 100 km apart, weird! 

Dr. Stan did his thing and quickly determined that I would need to be transferred into Edmonton and before you know it, Victor and Logan had bundled me onto a gurney, hooked me up to a very sophisticated monitor and after some hasty goodbyes to Rose, I was on my way to the CK Hui Heart Center at the Royal Alex. 

In the ambulance while being transferred into Edmonton, I asked Logan, the EMS attendant if we had done the right thing by driving in, he very gently informed me, “probably not, we could have met you on the highway and given you some clot buster drugs”. As I looked around at the well-equipped ambulance, I couldn’t help but agree and I determined right there that if there ever was a next time that is what we would do.

At the heart center I was shocked at what an incredible upgrade it was from the Shutter Island kind of ward that I was incarcerated in after my lung surgery! Someone said that the high profile, “sexy” sort of medicine like cardiac surgery gets all of the money and the best equipment and I can’t argue. 

I felt like I was on an American TV show and they had me in the presidential suite, it was very deluxe and I had a room all to myself until after my “procedure”. Then it was back to reality but still much newer and more tolerable than the wards in the old part of the hospital. 

After arriving at the Royal Alex, my heart seemed to relax and the blood kept flowing, meaning that I had no chest pains and since it was a Friday night and the “Cath team” only comes in on the weekend for emergencies, it took a few days before my case was deemed sufficiently serious to get me in for my angiogram/angioplasty. 

In the mean time they took very good care of me and for the first few days I was constantly monitored for blood pressure, temperature, oxygen, and I don’t know how many EKG’s they did, but it was a lot! I felt very lucky to have made it so far and Rose and I both felt that I was in the right place. 

Since they work strictly on a priority of needs basis, there is no scheduled time or date for procedures in the “Cath Lab” and they tell you to be ready at all times during the day. So make sure your bladder is always empty, don’t eat too much and just wait patiently until someone says, “they’re on their way.” That’s exactly how it played out, all of a sudden after 4 days of waiting; I was told “they’re coming for you!” 

Rose and I in the Healing Garden before the Angioplasty

Twenty minutes later I was being wheeled into place and shifted onto this very narrow little table surrounded by computer monitors and scanners of one sort or another. Then it was swabbing any possible access points to my arteries with industrial cleaner that left my skin dyed red and then injections of blood thinners and whatever other drugs they felt necessary or appropriate. 

Someone was constantly talking to me asking if I was doing ok or explaining what they were doing and asking if that was ok with me and I’m telling them, “sure, do whatever you have to.”

The fellow actually performing the angiogram seemed to be learning the craft under the watchful eye of the cardiologist that I was familiar with and who had visited and examined me several times over the past few days. I was feeling a little bit apprehensive about having this other guy actually doing the procedure, but at that point there isn’t a lot you can do about it and everybody’s got to learn somehow I guess. 

There was a lot of cross talk during the procedure and I don’t remember much of it but what I do remember was the feeling of having the catheter sliding up the artery in my arm and then into my heart. 

Beforehand, the talk from the nurses was all, “they’ll give you some pain meds and something for anxiety and you won’t feel a thing!” But let me tell you, I felt plenty! 

I could feel the wires sliding through the catheter, I could feel something going on in my heart, and when they were doing the angioplasty, it felt like another heart attack! Right in the middle of it all I had to say something. I was afraid of distracting them but I eventually piped up, “hey guys, I feel like I’m having a minor heart attack right now!” That’s when they calmly explained, “oh yeah, we have to cut off the flow of blood to your heart for a little while when we are doing the angioplasty, don’t worry it’s normal.” 

While it may be normal, it sure the heck is unpleasant! Eventually they were done the internal stuff and they practically yanked the catheter out of my arm and after 45 minutes of unpleasantness, more and worse unpleasantness was getting ready to dump itself on me! You see, with me it is never simple. Other people, sure,  once the procedure is complete the patient quickly recovers and they go home. 

For me, it’s 10 lovely days in the hospital waiting for the air leak in my lung to stop and the subcutaneous emphysema to heal up. Then it's, "whoa, look at the big leak in the pressure cuff, blood is squirting everywhere!" And on this lovely occasion, for whatever reason, as soon as I got into the recovery room, my arm began to hurt and to swell up like a balloon, yay! 

I guess I’m a complicated guy! 

I was feeling pretty sorry for myself at this point. Rose had to leave to pick up Junie from daycare and even though she stayed as long as she could, as soon as she left I felt very alone with my troubles.

Feeling sorry for myself - hey, it's what I'm good at!

 

I had to pee like crazy, I was having asthma trouble, my dinner just sat there getting cold because I was in no shape to eat, my heart still felt like an elephant was sitting on it and to top it all off my poor arm was swollen and painful. When I mentioned my arm to the nurse, a much harried guy who was apparently dropped into a busy recovery room when the nurse on duty just “went home” because of some kind of a family emergency, he quickly grabbed a pressure cuff and began pumping it up to try and get the swelling down. 

My arm in the pressure cuff

At this point I texted poor Rose and shamelessly hinted that I needed her to come back and to my relief she took the hint and quickly offered to return. Within a half hour I had my sweet wife/advocate looking after me and with Rose along with my new, nightshift nurse Kelly taking over, I was soon feeling much better. 

Rose jumped right in there and offered to do anything that Kelly needed her for and since I was strapped to a bunch of things and couldn’t leave to go to the bathroom, brave Rose ended up with urinal duty. 

That left Kelly free to concentrate on the medical and she quickly realized that my arm was perhaps beyond the usual, occasional bruising complication and she called for the doctor on duty to come and have a look. He did a bedside ultrasound and didn’t see anything that was overly concerning and after squeezing and prodding my arm for a while, proclaimed that the nurses were doing a good job following the protocol and it should be fine. 

I find it curious how the medical staff tries to make it sound routine, “oh sure we see this a lot, it’s a common post procedure complication, nothing to worry about at all.” 

But they couldn’t control their initial reaction when they saw my arm. Then it was “YIKES” as they cringe back, or “WHOA” as they make an involuntary “Yukky” face. 

Nothing like that to inspire calm and confidence in the patient!

Bruise-what bruise?

My new buddy, nurse Kelly who had a kind of Meg Ryan vibe going, with the curly blonde ringlets that Meg was sporting in the 80’s compared my arm to Popeye’s, with the huge forearm (and normal sized manly bicep) and we both got a good laugh at that. It was a very long night with alternating cold packs and pressure cuffs all night long and it felt good to laugh. 

My nurse looking at my arm - kidding

Me - if both arms had the same swelling

The next morning they kicked me over to the ward into a semi-private room and I was told if I was still worried about the arm, they would schedule a formal ultrasound and keep an eye on it for a day or two. Since I had no desire to end up sitting forever in an ER waiting for someone to take a look at my arm, I opted to stay until they (and I) were sure that it would be ok. 

My new room-mate was an old guy waiting for a triple bypass and when Rose saw him languishing there without a phone or visitors, she kindly offered to bring him a coffee and gave him a slice of Barb’s bran loaf and then she wisely went home.

What she didn’t know was that he had been suffering from constipation for the past few days and to say that her accidental ministrations were successful would be the understatement of the year! 

For the next two days I was subjected to the repeated blasts and the long lingering effects of her neighborly gesture. I was just sorry that Rose never seemed to be around with me at the right time to share in the joy. 

The angioplasty procedure was on Tuesday and it was Friday afternoon before they finally let me go home but I’m glad I stayed for the extra 2 days. Today it’s a week later and my arm is still very painful and purple right up past the elbow and even with the ultrasound and extra care, I’m still tempted by the lure to have it looked at again. 

10 days after the Angioplasty

That is the story of my latest medical emergency and yes, it’s been quite the year so far!

Some of you may be wondering if there is someone up there casting lightning bolts and trying to zap me, or perhaps just trying to scare me and the truth is, I just don’t know.

I don’t believe for a minute that God is actively trying to vaporize me, but there is someone else who just might be out to get me and sometimes God does let some of those pot-shots through for His own very good reasons. Perhaps He wants to get my attention and if that’s the case, I’m listening carefully and I’m ready to hear whatever He has to say. 

Rose has her own take on things of course. Right from the beginning when we found out about the cancer and how it was discovered and treated so early, she believed faithfully that God had set that outcome in motion by ensuring it was caught before it had a chance to spread. 

Later, after the heart attack, the cardiac doctor spoke to us to make sure there was no surgery scheduled for the cancer. He told us that I was committed to taking some pretty strong blood thinners for a year, making it extremely difficult if further cancer surgery was called for. When we heard that, we realized that things had happened in the right order, cancer surgery first, heart attack second! Who knew? I certainly didn’t plan it that way. 

God didn’t send the disease, it happened for a number of reasons: genetics, lifestyle, environmental, etc. But when the time came and the illness that had been there on the horizon for years finally happened, the big things worked out as well as they possibly could and we’re both grateful for that!

If this is the first you are hearing about my latest misadventure, I apologize. Neither Rose or I felt much like talking or texting or blogging about it before now. It came out of the blue and we're both still feeling a little PTSD from the whole thing. With no chance to prepare or get used to the idea beforehand it seems even tougher to deal with than knowing about the cancer and reading and planning for the surgery. 

I very much appreciate your prayers, well wishes, and other gestures of love and support so thanks and God bless!

Update - September 21

Well things have been going great and I'm busy taking my meds like a good boy. Now I'm feeling my age with a handful of morning meds and another handful at night and checking my blood pressure, pulse and oxygen levels daily.

Rose is always willing to go the extra mile, literally, as she did all of the driving for the first month and that was hard on both of us! I am a much better driver than I am a passenger.

Adjusting our diet to stringently avoid saturated and trans fat is probably the biggest adjustment, I love my burgers! Now hamburgers are out of the question and as much as I love chicken, it's just not the same.

Rose did the lawns out at the cabin and after staggering along behind the mower for an hour or two she went into full rebellion mode and insisted that we buy a new lawn tractor. 

And that's how we came to purchase "Chompy" the Ferrari red Craftsman lawn tractor and I love him, he does a great job on the lawns and trails at the cabin. 

Me happily enjoying a ride on "Chompy"

Since I'm doing so well and right now covid is not such a concern, we are back at church and enjoying it very much and the photo club is back and seems to have lots of activities planned and life is good all around!

We are planning to enjoy each day and be glad for all of the good things in our lives and I hope you will do the same.

Blessings all!