This Time for Sure-My First Bypass Operation

January 31, 1980. I'm back in the hospital and actually starting to get used to the hospital routine. My wife, though anxious, had taken on an air of stoicism, as had I. We had talked a lot about what to do if I died during the operation during the month's delay. It was good therapy for both of us.

My parents had come down from the northern part of the state again. My dad still was in shock that one of his sons could be so sick with a heart condition. As with most people, young people with heart conditions didn't seem as prevalent.

Of course, there wasn't as much media or technology to educate people. There were just as many young people dying of heart attacks (not necessarily for the same reason as mine). It just wasn't communicated as widely as it is today.

They woke me early on February 1 to start to prep me. I kissed my wife and around 7:00 a.m. they wheeled me down to the operating room. I was already under mild sedation. What I remember distinctly was how cold it was in the immaculately sterilized "OR". The other remember was the great number of people gathered about the room.

My wife and I had already discussed what was going to happen with the anesthetist, my cardiologist and the two surgeons who would operate. I was quickly wired up to all of the equipment that would give the surgeons feedback on how I was doing. I was asked one last time how I was doing, and then the anesthetist put the face mask over me and I drifted into a very pleasant sleep.

I awoke approximately 6-7 hours later. The operation had been 4 hours long, without complications. I was in the intensive care unit ("ICU"). My first feeling was that I was choking from the tracheal tube that was inserted in my mouth. It set off a gag reflex and a nurse helped me work with it so that it would stop it from continuing.

The first person (other than the nurse) I remembered seeing was my father. It must have been his turn to visit, since the ICU only allowed one person at a time to visit for 15 minutes at a time. I was still in a daze but I knew he was there. I couldn't move my head but I could see him out of the corner of my eye. I gave him a thumbs up and he later told me that he knew I was going to be okay when he saw that.

Then with more morphine to ease the pain I went back to sleep. I had made it through. As I fell asleep, I felt exhilarated, and it wasn't due to the effects of the morphine.

I knew I still had my wife and family to enjoy and that it wouldn't be long before I saw my little angel girl daughter again. She still had a daddy. That was the most important thing to me. Throughout the other medical ordeals I have encountered, it was always my family, especially my wife, that made any pain worthwhile.

Next time: Recovery and Renewal.

My First Coronary Bypass Operation-Almost

After a wonderful family Christmas, the New Year came quickly and was much more subdued. Just my young wife and baby daughter were all I wanted for the New Year and decade. I knew what was coming five days later.

As I mentioned in earlier posts, I had grown up very healthy. I'd spent no time in a hospital. I'd never been hurt, nor afflicted by any number of health problems that can afflict young people, e.g., mononucleosis, appendicitis, etc.

I'd had the mumps and measles, but was inoculated so never had any hospitalization. No, this was going to be my first extended stay in a hospital and it was for "all the marbles" as they say. Life and death, if that is not too hyperbolic.

I remember going to the admitting office with my wife on January 4 to check in. One malady I did have plenty of as a young person was my fair share of colds and flu. I had a cold the day I was admitted. It didn't seem to matter, and I was admitted to a room to wait for a visit from the cardiac surgeon and my cardiologist.

When they entered, I was in the midst of blowing my noise. I was all stuffed up, but mentally ready to go. They weren't. They told me they could not perform the operation while I had a cold. The danger of infection from the cold would put me at too great a risk when they opened me up.

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They told me to return home and they would re-schedule the operation after the cold was gone. My wife almost fell out of her chair. She started weeping. Her brave front couldn't hold against that the overwhelming tide of a delay. She knew it meant a whole new painful readjustment to prepare for another trip to the hospital at a later time for both of us.

The operation was eventually re-scheduled for Feb.1, 1980. Tough start for a new decade.

Next post: This time for sure.

Pre-Op

I made it home the next day, scheduled for a coronary bypass operation on January 5 of the new year. I'm glad I did go home rather than stay in the hospital.

My parents, brothers, and their wives, came to our place for Christmas. Needless to say they were concerned. My parents were also in shock that I needed such radical surgery at such a young age.

If I went up the stairs in our two-story apartment, I would stick a nitroglycerin tab under my tongue, take a deep breath, and make my way up. I wouldn't have any chest pain, but I would still be very tired. Picking up my little daughter was now out of the question.

Despite all the concern and apprehension, we had a wonderful family Christmas. My daughter was the star of the show. Just a toddler, she was the first grandchild, and so ruled the roost and was the center of attention.

We still have pictures of her from that Christmas. Her cheeks are more red than a Valentine's Day heart in every picture. Not from normal healthiness, but because her grandpa and her two uncles couldn't stop kissing those sweet, fat little cheeks.

The whole joyful experience left me more determined than ever to do what I needed to do, and to steel myself for the operation to come.

A Quick Thank You

I want to thank the generous readers of this blog for their financial support of CODA, the charity to help other transplant recipients.

With your help, if we can sustain our fundraising, we can make this a charity that may someday reach well beyond Dallas-Fort Worth into your community.

Our website is www.codacharity.org. Visit us and please continue making your tax-deductible contributions through our secure PayPal partner by hitting the "Make a Donation" button on any page of the website.

The Results of My Catheterization

I apologize for the long delay in following up on my last blog of 8/21. Some family issues more important than me came up during that time and I have dedicated my time to them during the period in which I haven't blogged. I'm not ready to blog about them because I haven't been able yet to absorb those recent experiences.

I left off the last the last post about the results of my first heart catheterization. I was in my room, out of critical care, waiting for the results. My first cardiologist brought me the results that afternoon. Due to my hyperlipidimia (the inability of my body to rid itself of artery-clogging fats) I had over 90% blockage in my four main arteries.

He told me that I was a "sudden death" candidate and that they wanted to perform a coronary bypass operation as soon as possible, i.e., the next day.

Denial was still playing with my immaturity in understanding the seriousness of my medical situation. I told the doctor that I had business to complete and wanted to spend Christmas Day with my wife and daughter. There was no way I would agree to an immediate operation.

Although he was very concerned and strongly recommended against me going home, I knew he couldn't stop me. My wife wanted me to stay but I insisted I would not. The operation was scheduled for January 5. They reluctantly allowed me to leave the next day. They gave me a bottle of nitroglycerin tabs to relieve my angina symptoms.

This nitroglycerin is not the type of liquid that can burn or explode. The tabs bring great relief from an angina attack (i.e., heart pain). They do it by temporarily widening the veins and arteries so that blood can flow at a stronger rate.

I knew nothing about a coronary bypass operation. I asked the doctor to explain. He said they would, under full anesthetic, as part of the overall bypass procedure, remove a vein from my leg. The vein would be cut into pieces and stitched to the heart to replace the arteries that were blocked. This would allow blocked blood flow in the clogged arteries to bypass them and circulate through the the veins. The old arteries would stay. There was no way or reason to remove them.

When I asked what my "down time" would be, the doctor answered about 7-10 days to regain strength and leave the hospital, but at least one month for the sternum to heal. They would have to literally saw through the sternum to get to my heart. I would also fatigue easily for about 60-90 days after such dramatically invasive surgery. I kept a stiff upper lift while the doctor and my wife were there.

Once they left and it became dark outside, I couldn't think of anything but my sweet young wife and my baby girl. I felt sorrow for my wife because she had to go through an experience no young person should have to go through. She hadn't bargained for this kind of crisis. My baby girl without a father she would ever remember, and an orphan, was a wrenching thought.

There was only one way to express the emotion I felt that night. I cried like hell.

The Catheterization of My Heart

The next morning at about 8:30 technicians came in and ran more tests in anticipation of the main event; the catherization of my heart.

This is the most invasive and conclusive of tests to determine whether you've had a heart attack, and the extent of any artery blockage in the heart that could cause future heart attacks.

I was wheeled into a cold operating room clad only in the standard issue hospital gown, with a sheet thrown over me. One of the nurses shaved the groin area of my right leg. A different cardiologist appeared and introduced himself. He was an invasive cardiologist, the kind that do this type of surgery.

He explained what he was going to do and how I might feel. He cautioned me once more that the catheterization itself could cause a heart attack. You have to be awake for the cath in case the doctor needs feedback from you. I was then locally anesthetized in the groin area that was shaven. I could feel that area go numb after a few minutes.

The groin area into which the surgeon would enter was sanitized. After asking me one more time if I was OK and ready to go, the cardiologist slowly began to insert what looked like a metal wire into the groin. He could watch it on a TV screen as it entered because at the very tip of the wire a camera was attached. It was so miniscule that James Bond wouldn't find it. I could not see the TV screen since I had to lay on my back.

Though the outside area of the groin was numb I could feel the wire snaking up inside me, as the physician threaded the wire through my veins, all the way from the top of my thigh into the heart. While he moved it through and about the arteries of the heart, instead of looking at me he was intently viewing the TV screen.The camera could, and was, taking pictures of the arteries whenever the cardiologist elected to do so.

I could feel the wire moving through the heart but felt no pain. After about 20 minutes to one-half hour, he slowly threaded wire out through the groin where he had entered.

When I asked him what he had seen he told me he would study the results and that my other cardiologist would talk to me about them. I was taken to a recovery room and later transferred back to my regular room in the cardiac care ward. I was no longer in intensive care.

Please visit our website at www.codacharity.org and make a donation to our charity. It allows us to help other young people with these kinds of problems. Thanks.

Next time: The results of the catheterization

The Bad News and a Sleepless Night at the Hospital

Picking up from my last posting about my sudden trip to the hospital, I had packed a small bag of toiletries and taken a book with me to the hospital.

As I said, I was given another EKG in the ER at the hospital. We were living in Indianapolis at the time and the hospital was St. Vincent. I was moved to intensive care and they performed a sonogram on the heart. It is the same kind of imaging device that they use for pregnant women nowadays so they can see their babies.

You could actually hear my heartbeat and see the image of the beating heart as the technician moved the device around my jellied chest. I asked the technician what it looked like and she said she couldn't tell. I would need to talk to the doctor about the results.

I thought I would be talking to my family doctor, but I was introduced to my first cardiologist later that afternoon. My heart health was well beyond care by a GP. I was now in the hands of a doctor who specialized in heart care.

The cardiologist was a fine man and had an air of friendly authority. What he told me, though, was terrifying. He said all of the results so far indicated that I had major blockages of my heart's arteries. They would need to do one more test to confirm the extent of the blockages and a future course of action.

A catherization test is major surgery in itself. I'll describe it in the next post. The doctor told me that it is invasive surgery and could cause a heart attack itself. However, it was the only way to know the true extent of my problem. I consented to it and I was scheduled for a catherization the very next day.

Sleep was out of the question that night. I was able to see my wife for half an hour. The doctor had met with her also and explained the situation. My little two year old girl was not able to come into the Intensive Care Unit. We wouldn't want her to see her Daddy this way anyway.

That night was long and sleepless. Reading a book was out of the question. All I could do is worry about what was to come, and especially about my wife and baby girl.

It was probably the worst night of my life, except for the next night.

More Breaking News!!!

Our second granchild is going to be a boy! Our daughter and son-in-law in North Carolina are having a boy. Their due date is January 2.

As I mentioned in a previous post our son and daughter-in-law are due to have a little girl (bambina) November 30. He is scheduled back from Iraq in October and they will have her at his base in California. We are so lucky.

And I'm the luckiest of all because I wouldn't be here to see them if I hadn't received my heart transplant from my generous donor and his family.

Only through organ donation is it possible.

Visit our website at www.cocacharity.org and contribute to our help to others.

Organ Donation Myth # 2

I have seen at least one semi-hysterical posting on organ donation that involves how organs are recovered when a person is an organ donor. It said that the body would be eviscerated ("torn to pieces" according to the dictionary).

Nothing could be further from the truth. As with any operation, such as an appendectomy, an incision is made to recover the organs. The incision is then closed, stitched up, like any other incision.

The actual operation to recover the organs is so non-invasive that no matter what organs are recovered a person can have an open casket wake or viewing if the family wishes.

I have the very scars that a deceased donor would have. You would never know it unless I took off my shirt.

You are welcome to visit our website at www.codacharity.org

The Doctor Appointment

As I've said in my previous posts, I was 28 when I had my first heart attack, 30 when I had my second. My ability to walk in cold, winter weather by now was severely restricted.

I went to my doctor appointment as scheduled around mid-December. I was pale, had lost more weight and was finally convinced that something was wrong. I didn't know how seriously wrong until the doctor saw me.

He listened to my heart with his stethoscope and immediately ordered an EKG. An EKG is the most unsophisticated medical measurement of the health of your heart. If it indicates a heart abnormality you are very bad off.

My EKG was so bad that the doctor wanted to put me in the hospital that day, directly from his office. He expressed shock at how badly my heart was functioning at my age. He told me I was a prime "sudden death" candidate.

He allowed me to go home to get some personal items and then I went directly to the ER at a local hospital. They did a follow-up EKG at the hospital and immediately moved me into the intensive care unit. They were afraid I could have another heart attack at any time.

Quite a wake up call for a young man who hadn't been treated in a hospital since birth.

The Christmas Party Heart Attack

A few days before my doctor's appointment, I attended my wife's Christmas office party. It was held at a posh private club downtown.

After a drink, together with a few introductions to her co-workers, I started sweating profusely. I went to the restroom to try to cool down by splashing water in my face. It didn't work.

I started feeling nauseous and the ringing of my elbow began again, just as it had two years before on Thanksgiving Day. I felt so nauseous that I told my wife I had to go home. We'd only been there 30 minutes or so.

She became concerned and wanted to drive me home. I told her that I didn't want her to leave the party and made sure she had arranged to get home after the party with someone else.

I walked to the parking garage and got in my car. I promptly fell asleep (or fainted) as soon as I got in the car and before I even started the engine. I was unconscious for at least two hours. The elbow pain which is so insistent that it drives you crazy ws gone.

As I look back on it now, and as cardiologists have confirmed since, I was having my second heart attack, this time at the age of 30. I have no idea how I survived. I just knew when I woke up that something radical had happened. One drink doesn't knock you out for two hours.

I got home only an hour before my wife. I was in bed and didn't let her know what happened since I felt there was nothing she could do for me. Once again, we probably should have gone to the ER. I decided to just wait until the doctor appointment.

Next: The Price of Neglect and Denial.

When Denial Became Impossible

I made it through the rest of that year without further incident. In October of the folowing year, I walked all over the small city I was living in at the time, campaigning for political office. It was a wonderful family experience, as brothers and their wives came to help knock on doors and hand out campaign pamphlets.

I lost weight with all the exercise and felt great. I still had never followed up with the doctor and as each day passed I felt less compelled to do so.

After the election, which I lost handily, we paid a visit to my wife's aunt and uncle on their farm in Ohio. We took our little angel girl with us and she got to see her first cow up close.

Everything seemed great, although with colder weather settling in for the winter I began to have shortness of breath. I was giving my little girl a piggy-back ride when I suddenly felt stinging pains in my chest.

The pains were not like the chest pain I had had two years earlier. These were stinging chest pains that felt like lightning bolts shooting throughout the whole chest rather than the sub-sternum pain concentrated in one spot that I had felt that fateful Thanksgiving. I found out later that these were angina pains. They are a sympton of poor circulation in the heart.

After we got home, things only got worse. I couldn't move quickly up the stairs of our apartment. I couldn't even pick my little girl up, let alone give her a piggy-back ride. The number of times I experienced breathlessness and angina pains increased dramatically.

There was no more room for denial. I finally made an appointment to see my family doctor.

Next time: Another traumatic holiday experience.
Please visit our website at www.codacharity.org and make a tax-deductible contribution.

The Call to the Doctor and Denial

As I said in the last post, I had all the signs of a heart attack: ringing elbow, tightness of chest, shortness of breath. I called the family doctor and described what had happened and he told me in an amazed tone that it sounded like a heart attack to him. I should come in and see him the next day.

I slept alright that night and at 28 thought there was no way it could be a heart attack. The next morning I got up, felt fine, and despite my wife's misgivings I went to work rather than the to the doctor's office.

Little did I know I had dodged a big bullet and that it would catch up with me later.

My First Heart Attack

I had my first heart attack at the age of 28. I remember it well. My young wife, my baby daughter and I were returning home from my parents on a Sunday night.

We had spent Thanksgiving and the weekend with them. It was pitch dark on the road when my Chrysler Valiant went dead. I was furious and concerned about the health and welfare of my wife and baby. This was in the 1970's so no cell phone.

I had to leave them in the car and walk about 2 miles to a gas station for help.

By the time the car was towed and our family back in our apartment, I could feel a persistent, uncomfortable ringing in my left elbow. It was as though I'd hit my "funny bone" and it wouldn't stop. There was a tightness in my chest and nausea also.

Next: My phone call with the doctor.

Organ Donation Myth #1

I'm still coming down from the elation of the news of my granddaughter, due in November. However, I wanted to address one of the most widespread myths about organ donation. When I speak the issue never fails to come up.

Myth: If the doctors and hospital know I'm an organ donor they won't do everything they can to save my life. That is completely wrong.

First, the doctors who declare a patient brain dead ( it takes two) are the treating physicians. The doctor and nurses wh0 recover the valuable, life-saving organs upon a patient's death are from an Organ Procurement Organization (OPO), set up by the federal government. They are unrelated to the hospital or the physicians who declare the patient dead.

Second, with all the people who treat a dying patient, there would have to be a massive conspiracy to hide a false declaration of death by the hospital. Someone would blow the whistle.

Third, a good prosecutor wouldn't hesitate to charge the doctors with first degree murder.

Doctors do everything they can to save their patients. Most take it very hard when they lose one. Don't let such a silly myth keep you from saving the lives of others by being an organ donor.

Visit our website at www.codacharity.org and please make a tax-deductible charitable contribution.