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.
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| 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!”
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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!
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| 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.
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| My nurse looking at my arm - kidding |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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| 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!
