Preface...back in 2000, I had a heart attack...while I've had high
blood pressure since even before my teens (runs in my family) I wasn't regular
about taking anything to keep it under control...didn't know better and at that
time I guess I didn't care...but I was at work, knew what was going on, that
vice grip around the armpit to a level I'd never felt before, or thankfully
since...had someone call 911, and I was immediately being shipped to St.
Vincent's Hospital in Greenwich Village (which no longer exists, but that's yet
another matter)...they gave me nitroglycerine and morphine, and I couldn't even
enjoy the latter...went to sleep quite quickly...woke up hours later on my back,
essentially immobilized by the chest tube and as I recall some plastic device
over my groin...they'd successfully implanted a stent, and the cardiology
surgeon who performed the procedure informed me I had slightly thicker blood
than average, and that I was lucky to have gotten there in time, or I could have
blown out my aorta...I was ordered to take two weeks off work (and I had a desk
job back then) with an option to take a third if I didn't quite feel up to it.
Oddly enough, no more than a week before that, I supported some friends on a
charity walk around the perimeter of Central Park (which I believe is four
miles), but felt fine and didn't break a sweat. Anyway, I was discharged a day
earlier than planned based on my general condition. I lost so much weight just
over the weekend that I ate two pounds of pasta a day the first week just to
build back up...at least that worked... Unfortunately, despite my health
improving, it left me quite emotionally vulnerable...ended up thinking I was in
love with what turned out to be the wrong woman, jumped to the point of
engagement and left my life behind to move to a small town in Illinois...it
failed miserably, and I left my life behind again, coming to Connecticut, where
my sister and her family lived (and still do) with little more than a suitcase
of clothing...slept on their living room couch for about a year...
Fast
forward...I'd been seeing doctors on a fairly normal basis, was taking
medications, but only saw a cardiologist once, as I recall...he left the
practice I was a patient at and became a resident at the local...okay, it's
Norwalk...hospital...no one I know wants to have to go to a hospital even as an
outpatient, and it was another thing I let slide, though I was still usually
taking medications...laid off from a job and took a few months to find another,
so as I recall I was temporarily getting prescriptions from the government, but
still let them lapse, hoping for the best.
Now it starts getting
interesting...my internist died of pneumonia, and I decided to opt for a
pulmonologist, knowing at least the systems are connected...I saw him for a few
months, then he asked when the last time I saw a cardiologist was, and I said it
was a long time...he arranged for me to start seeing one that I happen to feel
quite confident and comfortable with...the first visit happened to be February
3rd of last year, which some might know is my birthday. They gave me an EKG and
found something seriously irregular and immediately scheduled me for an
angiogram...so far, so unsurprising. Unfortunately, the result of that procedure
was that I had so much vascular damage...90 percent occlusion in one, and 75
percent in two more...that another implant wasn't really feasible...note here
that for most of my life, I was a cigarette smoker, and that was the only thing
they were able to attribute that damage level to...they then scheduled me for
open heart surgery...naturally I wasn't happy about it, but I was resigned to
it...I did manage to stop smoking a week before the procedure was scheduled...I
thought if I'm gonna put myself through all this, I'd better at least improve my
odds...
This part virtually no one knows...as a routine pre-op procedure, they
had me arrange to take a blood test, at a well-known private laboratory (I won't
mention the name)...wasn't at all concerned, since my bloodwork was usually
fine...but the next day I got a call from the cardiologist way before office
hours began (I was actually getting ready for work when I got the call) telling
me I had a potentially fatal potassium level and I should go to the hospital for
an emergency re-test. That second test, though admittedly a harrowing
experience, was fine, and they believed the original sample was somehow
contaminated or mishandled, but everything could progress as scheduled.
Now
we're at February 24, 2020...I'd gone through the personal preparations (I think
I was mildly allergic to the body scrub I was instructed to use, but only had to
use it a couple of times) and was at St. Vincent's Bridgeport for the surgery
itself...without names again, the actual surgeon is considered among the best in
his field...they weren't particularly pleased about my casual (or perhaps
careless) attitude, basically saying it didn't really matter if I made it or
not, though I was there and optimistic about the actual operation, which turned
out to be a success.
Now consider that date...that was about the time the fan
hit the shit (don't tell me I've got it backwards...the shit's always there,
just waiting for something to stir it up) about the Coronavirus (I was either
watching Sportscenter or CNN most of my waking time)...no one could have
predicted then what was going to happen..so I'm still trying to rest (and I
don't like sleeping on my back, but at first had little choice) and slowly
literally getting back on my feet. Again, I made very good progress and was
discharged on time, though I was forced to take two months' medical leave from
work. That first three weeks, I again slept on my sister's couch, but at least
this time we all knew I wouldn't have been well off alone...already the shelves
were empty whenever we went shopping, but they'd prepared and it wasn't all too
bad. I went home, still on the weak side, but not quite out of it...by then,
though, some states, including Connecticut, had started imposing lockdowns...I
went around the block to get food and that was about it. While it was discussed
with me, because of that I couldn't start cardiac rehab, since the hospitals
were already closed except for emergency patients. The two months passed, and I
still didn't feel quite myself, and ended up taking another month on my
own...fortunately I was able to get unemployment to get by...eventually I felt
good enough to get medically cleared to return to work with limitations...after
a bit, those were lifted. So I trusted my own limits for a few months and was
doing okay.
Now, I happen to live in a state which allows right turns on red
lights in most intersections, and I used to cross a particularly hazardous one
every morning when I bought my morning coffee just before starting work. I have
my own personal 9/11 nightmare as a result. I had the light and was going to the
7-11, but at the same time a line of cars was waiting to take that turn, one of
which, an SUV, hit me...short of my upper teeth going completely through my lip,
inside and out, I don't know that I've sustained other damage, at least not for
certain. Again, I ended up in the ER, though I was discharged later after being
stitched up...many people wondered if I was going to sue, but I always said I
held nothing against the driver, who actually seemed more upset than I was, and
because of spending about 25 years transcribing deposition and trial
transcripts, I'd developed what amounts to contempt regarding litigation. In
addition to developing a level of PTSD due to the accident itself (I now take
the bus an extra stop to avoid crossing in the same direction, for one, and am
considerably more wary about traffic in general...I can hear a truck signaling
it's backing up blocks away and I'll still stop moving until I see where it's
heading), the thought of a lawsuit brings back 25 years of bad vibes, so it's
something I've kept firmly on the back burner.
Anyway, I tried to return to as
normal a lifestyle as I could, and did for a little over a month...while I can't
remember the exact date, and don't feel like looking it up...sometime in October
I felt something was seriously wrong, and called 911 again...they went through
the usual tests and sent me back up to the hospital where I'd had the surgery
the next day...they did another angiogram, and found I had suffered a myocardial
infarction (one of the vessels they grafted had somehow
collapsed)...technically, that's a heart attack...this time at least they were
able to implant another stent and I went home after a couple of days and finally
was able to start rehab...what I've never been able to find out is if the two
were somehow connected...
So I'm still in a constant healing arc, both
physically and emotionally, with varying results...my medications keep getting
tweaked (as part of the pre-rehab interview and testing, they found my blood
pressure was inexplicably approaching stroke level...I've also had a minor TIA,
but with no lasting effects...I was kept overnight yet again, they put me back
on a medication I was taken off of after the surgery, and had me follow up with
my physicians). Turns out I not only was taking the wrong formulation of the
main medication (Lopressor, though I cannot pronounce the generic name), but
ended up having to double the dosage of the one I had to start taking again...so
far so good, though I can't say I'd be surprised if I hit the trifecta...
Anyway, 2020 was one of the worst years in history, certainly the history I've
been alive to experience, and my sincere sympathies to all who have lost someone
or faced their own mortality...I just had a few extra fillips I certainly could
have done without...but I'm still here, haven't lost the fight (if I have lost a
great deal of an already tenuous faith)...and I have to thank my family,
friends, all the medical staff that saw to my recovery...we can all hope the
future is better, but I now have to live with even more of a past to haunt me
forever...those who I love and love me, I need more than ever, and am grateful
to all of you...
Too soon to hope for a happy ending, but at least the book is
still open...may we all somehow thrive. If you made it this far, thank you for
reading...as always, comments are welcome, and I do not believe in
censoring...stay tuned to this channel for further ramblings and developments
and whatever...
Keep the faith Ira. My brother had an emergency medical issue in 2011 and while in surgery had SIX separate heart attacks. They applied the paddles and shocked him back to life.....six times. He did recover, but a few weeks back, Covid bit him in the ass. Only God knows when our time is up, and we are here but a short time. We can only try to make the best of our time here on the blue marble.
ReplyDeletethanks for the kind thoughts
DeleteIra, all I can do is send you my love and friendship, keep in contact with you, and if you prefer the classic Snail Mail with hand written letters and cards, I would do that too.
ReplyDeleteYou are too precious a human being to loose..
Let me know and I will DM you my mail address...
Keep the faith, no cigarettes pleeeese, and know that you are loved....
On another note..you did good on the blog..I would say great, but you wouldn't accept it gracefully.
😘
If course I accept it gracefully...I've always been my worst critic...so thank you
Delete