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.