Holiday Stress Test

First of all let me apologize for not posting the past few days. The holidays have taken over at our household and I find my discretionary time to be at a minimum. There are are Christmas cards to get out, shopping to be done and mastering og multiplication tables to be completed.

Huh?

The point is, that on top of all the extra activities that the holidays bring on we still need to focus on the mundane things that normally eat up our time. My current challenge is help my nine year old daughter master her multiplication tables. We are employing a variety of strategies and having limited success. Does anyone know of a good software program for kids that could help here?

Anyway, on top of all the normal chaos that comes with the holiday season, I had the added fun of putting up a Christmas tree twice. I came home early the other day hoping to get some work done before I had to go meet Morgan at the bus stop. I came in, let the dogs out and was heading back out to my car when I heard a very loud CRASH. It was a glass breaking crash sound.

Sure enough, my ten foot Christmas tree which had stood steadily for three days suddenly decided to give into an unseen indoor wind and toppled over onto the hardwood floors in the foyer. Broken ornaments littered the area, so much for getting any work done that day. For the next few hours I cleaned up the mess, moved the tree back out to the garage and removed the tangled morass of lights while Mama Wordbones cleaned up the water and pine sap that remained behind.

The thing is, I didn’t let it stress me too much. Sure, at first I was angry but then who was really angry with except me?

I certainly couldn’t blame Mama Wordbones. In our house we actually have two Christmas trees because years ago Mama Wordbones decided that a real tree was just much dam trouble. She now happily unpacks her fake tree and places in the living room while I still go the traditional route with a live tree in the family room. If anything I was extremely grateful that Mama Wordbones helped me at all. She could have easily retreated to her fake tree in the living room and sipped a hot cocoa while I slaved away at cleaning up my natural disaster.

But this is Christmas after all and in the spirit of the holidays she pitched in and helped me reconstruct my tree. It is now back up, complete with a new tie back to the wall behind it (Mama Wordbones suggestion) and some ornaments that look like they came from the Island of Misfit Toys.

Rob From Glen Burnie

“I finished my shift before I went to emergency room.”

I was talking to a guy named Rob in my cardiac rehab class. He looked to be in his mid thirties. He’s a big guy. He had only recently joined the class.

“I can’t wait to get rid of this thing.”

Rob has a walker to help him get around. He says that after surgery he didn’t trust that his legs would hold him up. Rob had open heart surgery. He had five major blockages in his arteries.

“I have the road map of Florida to Maine on my chest.”

I bet. What struck me about Rob’s story is that, once again, here is a guy who was having a heart attack but thought he just shrug it off. He finished his shift for crying out loud! That is so typical of a guy.

“They flew me in a helicopter to Hopkins.”

Rob got the helicopter ride!

“It was pretty scary.”

Scary?

Rob just had a major heart attack and is on deaths door and he is scared of a helicopter ride. Go figure.

I told Rob that I got a ride in the back of the truck. I also told him to hang in there. The nurses in the cardiac rehab program will have him off that walker in no time.

Pork Brains

If you really want to go the whole non heart healthy route perhaps you should consider putting pork brains in milk gravy on your shopping list. How does one serve pork brains you ask?

Well, some folks like them with their eggs for breakfast.

And speaking of jeopardy…

The big news last night was that Alex Trebek, the host of Jeopardy, suffered a minor heart attack. He is expected to return to the studio next week.

I’ll take heart attacks for two hundred.

Bad Message

I was driving to my office holiday party last night when an ad came on the radio for St. Joseph’s Medical Center in Baltimore. The ad, which was playing on the all Christmas music station WLIF, began with a recap of the warning signs of a heart attack. That part was good. Then the ad went on to extol the expertise of the hospital in dealing with heart attacks and went so far as to suggest that if you are having a heart attack you should make your way to St. Joseph’s Medical Center…wherever you are.

Considering that the listening area of this particular radio station covers a pretty broad geographic area, that would seem to suggest that someone suffering from a heart attack should bypass all of the other metropolitan area hospitals, including Johns Hopkins, and drive directly to St. Joseph’s.

Now this is a non clinical blog about heart disease so I won’t attempt to provide any medical advice but, everything I’ve read and been told about a heart attack is the time matters. If you were to follow the advice of this advertisement and end up driving over an hour to get to St. Joseph’s as opposed to a closer hospital wouldn’t you be putting yourself in jeopardy?

Tis The Season

As I was returning from a shopping trip yesterday I turned on to my street and saw an ambulance and a fire truck three houses up from mine. In our county a fire truck accompanies every ambulance call for some reason. If there is a firefighter reading this blog perhaps you could share the reasoning of this. It seems to be overkill to me.

Anyway…

The presence of the ambulance on my street recalled to mind an Associated Press story that my colleague, Tom Whelan forwarded to me last week. Apparently the holiday season is also heart attack season. In addition to the rich meals, alcohol, and extra stress that the holidays bring on, there is an added denial dimension. No one wants to be a buzz killer by complaining of chest pains at a holiday gathering. Many folks ignore will ignore the warning signs of an impending heart attack by writing it off as bad indigestion.

That’s a big mistake. Time matters when dealing with a heart attack. The longer the delay, the more damage to the heart and the longer your ass will be in recovery.

Take heart. If you experience any of the warning signs of a heart attack, call 911 immediately. Besides, the arrival of an ambulance and fire truck on your street could add some excitement to an otherwise dull holiday party. It will give your friends and family something to talk about for years to come and just might insure that you will be around to share in them.

Wayne's Story in Three Parts (3)

I ended the third installment of Wayne’s story with his twelve minute helicopter ride from Howard County General Hospital in Columbia, Maryland to Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore.

“Within five minutes of the helicopter landing on the roof of Johns Hopkins I was in the operating room being prepped for Angioplasty. With local anesthetic to my leg where the catheter was inserted and a mild sedative to help me relax I was awake throughout the hour and a half operation. They found one total blockage of the Left Anterior Descending (LAD) artery and one partial blockage of another artery of the heart. They opened both with a balloon and put a stent in the LAD. I was then taken to the Hopkins Cardiac Care Unit for a four day stay. I have never seen such a well run place in a hospital. The nurses, doctors, and interns were not only very helpful and knowledgeable, they were nice people showing real concern for me. I felt like I was the only patient there.”

Ann had called me later that fateful Sunday and told me what had happened to Wayne. On Tuesday I went down to visit him with another cycling buddy, Julius Hader. Wayne was in great spirits and regaled us with the story of his helicopter ride. He looked a lot better than the last time I saw him. He felt he was on the road to recovery but was he?

“On Thursday the 26th I was able to go home about 4:00pm. At 2:00am I awoke with pain in my chest. It was a totally different pain than the heart attack, more like tight muscles than an elephant standing on my chest. Off we went to the ER. I was admitted but not quite as quickly as the first time but still a good response. After multiple ECG’s and various medicines and drugs they decided something had probably happened with my heart but not strong enough to show up in the ECG’s. I think it was a reaction to the medicines I was on and the stress of the situation. They kept me in the hospital for the day and released me about 7:00pm. Everything has been constant improvement since. It looks like I will come out healthier than before the attack. By getting the Tpa so quickly it looks like I will have almost no damage to my heart Added to that is the fact that two arteries are now wide open instead of being partially blocked, it all adds up to me coming out of this in great shape.”

Wayne is doing great. I met up with him this past Friday for coffee. Interestingly, he still drinks regular (not decaf) coffee. “Ann has given up on that issue,” he told me. I think it is because he told her that he wasn’t about to change that habit. Other than that he looks great. He is in fighting trim and though he hasn’t been on his road bike for some time he still exercises regularly. We plan to meet up for a walk sometime.

Wayne claims that I may have saved his life. I always blanch when he says this. The point he wants to make though is that as a buddy I did the right thing. I ruled out any further biking that morning and stayed with him rather than leaving to go get my car. He had a cell phone after all and calling Ann was the only wise course. I don’t consider that to be anything but using common sense. If he thinks it saved his life so be it.

Wayne is still enjoying his retirement. He is an adjunct professor of computer science at Howard Community College and he has a new hobby of making ballpoint pens. He is showing off some of his work in the picture I took of him Friday morning.

Wayne's Story in Three Parts (2)

Yesterday, in the first installment of Wayne’s story, I left off where Wayne is picked up by Ann. We maneuvered Wayne’s bike into the back seat of the red Mustang and off they went. I stood there and watched as they drove out of sight. “I hope he’s okay” I thought. He really didn’t look good.

It was now around 8 o’clock. I was midway between my house and the bagel shop. I decided to head home. You may recall that in the first part of Wayne’s story I mentioned that I had a hangover. It wasn’t as bad as when started out earlier that morning but the thought of going back to bed felt pretty enticing. Wayne, on the other hand, was having a different experience.

“Upon arrival home I was feeling a little better and told Ann I was going to walk around in front of the house as that usually helped relieve the gas of acid reflux. She went upstairs and got ready for church. Just before she came back downstairs I started feeling some pain in the middle of my back. As she came down the stairs I started having pain in my arms. I thought both might be due to straining while riding up that hill. Ann and I decided it would be a good idea to call Sarah, a friend of ours who is a nurse. Ann called Sarah and barely got the description of the situation out when Sarah said, “get him to ER immediately”. Off we went.”

Don’t you love how Wayne writes “Off we went.” I mean I know this guy. He is a true Midwesterner. When he says a line like this it is usually with a bit of Midwestern drawl with a smile on his face.

“I walked into the ER while Ann parked the car and told the person at the desk I thought I was having a heart attack. He called for a nurse and then escorted me to a cubicle just behind his desk. The nurse arrived immediately, took one look at me and said “sit still I am going to get a wheel chair”. She grabbed one that was just a short distance away and took me back into the new ER facility, put me on a table/bed and brought the doctor on duty over to me. He paged the Cardiologist he knew was upstairs starting his rounds. In just a few minutes they had me on an ECG machine and took all my vital signs. The Cardiologist (Dr. Silverman) arrived and asked me a few questions about my pain, how it came on, etc. At this point it had been just under a half hour since I walked up to the front desk.”

“While the Cardiologist and ER doctor were discussing the possibilities, the ECG went wild and a huge pain of pressure hit my chest. I was having an all out heart attack. The cardiologist called for a syringe of Tpa and called out several other commands to the nurses. I learned later that Tpa is a clot dissolving drug. Within ten minutes or less the pain had almost disappeared. Everyone was very happy the drug had done its job and were discussing the event and the doctor started telling me what was to come next in terms of treatment. Then the second one hit. They could not inject anymore Tpa but did inject other things the only one I recognized was morphine. I asked the Cardiologist if I was going to make it. He said, “I’m not going to let a fellow bicyclist die, your going to make it just fine.” He called for the Medivac helicopter from Johns Hopkins Hospital. He and the nurses stayed with me throughout the 30 minute wait for the chopper. The morphine had made the pain more tolerable and I made the 12 minute return flight to Hopkins in only medium pain.”

Apparently Dr. Silverman was an avid cyclist. I guess sometime during that initial questioning Wayne had mentioned that he had been cycling that morning which prompted the comment about not letting a fellow cyclist die. One does wonder what he would have said if Wayne had told him he was a runner (he used to be).

And Wayne got the helicopter ride!

I know it is not that enjoyable when you are hooked up with IV drips and a blood pressure cuff but it still beats the 45 minute ride in the back of the truck.

When I think back he was probably flying over my house as I climbed back into bed that Sunday morning. It was later that day that Ann called me and told me what had happened to Wayne.

Wayne’s Story in Three Parts (1)

Wayne Ivester is a buddy of mine. For a period of time around five years ago, he and I got together for an early Sunday morning bike ride on our road bikes. We lived close to each other so I’d simply peddle over to his place and then we’d ride off together.

It was during one of these rides that Wayne’s cardiac event occurred.

Wayne has written his story. This is fortunate because five years ago I told him I’d write it. The plan was to write something we could submit to Men’s Health or Outside magazine. I never did it.

But Wayne did and now I can share it here with my own commentary thrown in. Like I said, I was there. It is a bit long so I’ve broken it up into three parts. This is the first. I’ll let Wayne speak first.

“Ann and I were looking forward to a vigorous hiking trip with Elderhostel in New York. A couple we had become friends with were going to be on the same hike. The setting sounded great, a remote section of the Catskill Mountains about 2 hours southwest of Albany. The session was scheduled to begin at 5:00pm on Sunday September 22nd. We decided we could leave home about 11:00am and make it to the Inn we would be staying at by 5:00pm. Since we would not be leaving early I decided I had time to get in my usual Sunday morning bike ride with my friend Dennis. We ride 8 miles out to a bagel shop for a bagel and then back home.”

Wayne is in pretty good shape. He regularly rode his bike and he and Ann also are into horseback riding. Wayne is an engineer by training who took early retirement from a sales career with IBM before I ever met him.

“Dennis and I left my house about 7:00am expecting our normal ride. It turned out to be anything but normal. I got on my bike and started to shove off when I realized I had forgotten my cell phone. I went back in the house and grabbed it. The ride went along uneventfully for the first half hour.”

Okay, maybe it was uneventful for Wayne but as for me I was nursing a mild hangover. I had been out partying the evening before. When Wayne mentioned that he forgot his phone I almost suggested that we just call it quits and go back home. But I didn’t.

“At that point we came to a long steep hill we had been jokingly calling “killer hill”. For some reason I decided to attack the climb more aggressively than usual and was leading Dennis until just before the top. He usually is ahead of me all the way. As he passed he said he was going to stop at the top to make an adjustment to his equipment.”

By this time I’m starting to feel better. Wayne on the other hand was complaining of having a little indigestion. He mentioned something about rich Italian food the night before. When he started shooting up that ridiculously steep hill I thought, “What’s got into him today?”

Did I mention that he laid out this route?

Anyway, I took the challenge and shot after him, finally passing him just before the crest. I can’t recall if I really had an equipment problem or not but I was glad to take a break. When I looked back behind at Wayne he had slowed considerably. He didn’t look so hot either.

“I was breathing hard but felt fine. As I pulled to the curb and stopped my chest started hurting a little. It didn’t surprise me as I had eaten a lot of rich food the day before at an afternoon party/horse show. I told Dennis I was having an acid reflux attack and wanted to sit a minute before going on.”

He may have felt good but he didn’t look good. His face was flushed. He sat for a minute and then said he had to answer natures call. He left that part out his story but I recall it clearly. He was in the woods a long time.

“The minutes started adding up and I wasn’t getting any better. We discussed riding on, turning back, etc. Dennis suggested I call Ann and have her come pick me up. I objected because I said I could never explain over the phone how to put the bike rack on my car. Dennis persisted and I remembered I had given a bicyclist a ride one time by putting the top down on my car and putting the bike in the back seat.”

When he finally came back out of the woods he looked even worse. We both kind of understood that his ride was over at this point. The question became what to do next. Wayne actually suggested that I ride back and get my car with the bike rack and then come back to get him. Given the way he looked I didn’t think that was such a great idea. He really agonized about how his bike was going to get home. For good reason too, it is a nice bike.

“About 7:50am I called Ann and she left immediately, arriving in 8 minutes after we hung up. At this point I was starting to feel a little better. I had passed through a stage of cold sweats and dizziness.”

To say that Ann got there fast would be understatement. Before I knew we had loaded his bike into the convertible and off they went leaving me atop killer hill.

I decided to turn around and head home. It would a couple of days before I saw Wayne again. He was lying in a bed at Johns Hopkins Hospital.

Good News

Now here’s some good news, a bunch of new studies like this one, this one and this one are concluding that beer may be just as good as wine if not better for fighting heart disease.

According to one study, even non alcoholic beer has benefits so you won’t necessarily have to jump off the wagon to enjoy this little benefit.

For any medical types who happen by, here is the technical explanation.

And, by the way, the black libation in the picture is a perfectly poured Guinness served up at the James Joyce Pub in Baltimore. And yes, it tasted as good as it looks.

Cheers!

Corrupted Plans

I really try to post something new here everyday. I also try to make my posts interesting or at least mildly amusing.

Sometimes I think succeed in doing both. Other times I don’t. I just want the reader to know that I really do try. It’s just that sometimes, just every so often, outside forces corrupt my carefully designed plans and everything goes to hell.

Take yesterday morning for instance. I rose at 6:30 AM with the intention of getting some writing done before I had to leave for my cardiac rehab appointment at 9:30 AM. By the time I finally settled down in my office after feeding the dogs and bringing in the morning papers, it was around 7:30 AM. Not bad so far.

Denise comes in and gives me a quick kiss before heading off to her job. The first order of business was to take care of some business that I told myself to do on Friday. I made a few changes to a lease proposal and then emailed it the client.

Now I could start some real writing. It was about eight o’clock. I had a good solid hour before I would have to leave.

Then the phone rang. It was Igor.

Igor is our home improvement contractor. We’ve had Igor and his fellow Russians in our home quite a bit this year. We like Igor.

“Is Miss Denise home?”

“No, I’m sorry Igor, she just left for work.”

“I call her on cell phone then.”

“Good plan.”

I should point out here that Denise is the true General Contractor on all of these home improvement projects. I pretty much step aside and enjoy the show. For now I felt confident that I now had a clear path to an hour of uninterrupted writing. Denise would deal with Igor. I was wrong. The phone rang again. It was Denise this time.

“Honey, do you remember that I was a planning a surprise for you for Christmas?”

“Sure.”

“Well the surprise is that I am having your office redone.”

“That’s great.”

“Well, unfortunately, Igor is on his way over there right now.”

“Oh. Is he coming to measure some things?”

“No. He’s coming to get started. You have to move everything out of there.”

“Now?”

“He’ll be there in about ten minutes.”

“Today?”

“I’m sorry honey; I didn’t mean it to happen this way. I told him…”

At this point I really stopped listening. I looked around me at the chaos of my office. There was barely any wood showing on my desk. There were things stacked on the floor. There was extension cord spaghetti next to my feet. The picture in yesterdays post shows how my desk normally looks.

“Thanks honey. It’s a great gift. I’d better get off the phone now. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m sorry.”

No sooner did I hang up than the doorbell rang. Igor had arrived.

Surprisingly, when I checked in at cardiac rehab, my blood pressure was only 136 over 84.

Paperwork

The EOB’s just keep coming. I am referring to the Explanation of Benefits statements that I get from Carefirst Blue Choice for the charges related to my heart attack and resultant treatment. Now I realize that I should be grateful for the fact that I have health insurance. I am.

The thing is I thought I’d try to add up what this little cardiac episode of mine actually cost. They don’t make it easy. To me it is as if you went to a hotel and they billed you separately for everything. You’d get one bill for the room, one bill for breakfast, one bill for a spa treatment and so on.

And these EOB statements don’t really tell me anything either. More space in the statements is devoted to legal disclaimers than an actual explanation of the benefit they paid for!

Just The Facts

• Heart disease is the leading cause of death for both men and women in the United States.
• A woman always has the final say in an argument. Anything said after that is a new argument.
• Worldwide coronary heart disease kills seven million people each year.
• You can’t fight genetics.
• Heart disease is a term that includes several more specific heart conditions. The most common heart disease in the United States is coronary heart disease, which can lead to heart attack.
• Given the choice between doing the dishes and taking out the garbage I’ll always go for trash duty.
• It is estimated that about 47% of cardiac deaths occur before emergency services or transport to a hospital.
• I was pretty stupid in that regard.
• The heart is basically a big muscle.
• I tried not to let college interfere with my education.
• The proper name for a heart attack is acute myocardial infarction.
• I don’t think there is anything cute about a heart attack so I’ll just stick with calling it a heart attack.
• There is such a thing as a small heart attack (minimal muscle damage).
• I had one.

The ICU

“We are going to take you upstairs to the ICU now.”

It was about 6:00 am on Sunday morning. I had been in stall numero uno in the emergency room for about six hours.

I’m thinking “ICU! That’s where really sick people go!”

At this point I’m still thinking that I’m not really that sick. Yeah, I now knew I had a heart attack but hey, I’m still joking around. I mean I didn’t expect that they were going to pat me on the head and send me home but I didn’t think I was a candidate for the Intensive Care Unit.

On the other hand, the ICU is the place to be if you are sick, sort of. The best part is that if you want anything outside of a cheeseburger and fries, you get it. Got a headache? They won’t just offer you an aspirin, they’ll offer you morphine. You need a nurse, push a button and they arrive in a flash.

Then again it isn’t the most comfortable place to be either. I mean just how comfortable can you get with an automatic blood pressure machine on one arm which squeezes your arm every fifteen minutes, three IV lines in your arms and an oxygen tube stuck in your nostrils. Surprisingly, I was able to sleep with all this going on though I imagine the morphine probably helped that somewhat.

The biggest impediment to sound sleep was the wave machine, at least that’s what I called it. The ICU bed had this anti bed sore mechanism that called to mind a waterbed with a built in wave machine.

“Can you turn off the wave machine?”

I seemed to be able to come to terms with all the other stuff that was going on but that was just too much.

One of the ICU angels kindly granted this request.

I spent most of the day Sunday watching football and dozing in and out of sleep. My team, the Baltimore Ravens got creamed by the Cleveland Browns. That coupled with the constant mild headache I was getting from the nitro drip didn’t exactly help my mood. Still, at least there was football to watch. I counted myself fortunate that this didn’t happen on weekday when my viewing choices would be more limited. Though I consider myself to be a reader I didn’t feel much like reading.

I didn’t know it at the time but in less than two days I’d be patched up and back home. Amazing.

Hall of Fame

Over the Thanksgiving holiday I got out for the first round of golf since my heart attack. We have a Thanksgiving holiday ritual where, along with my brother-in-law and two nephews we play a round of golf in Birmingham the day after the big feast. I can happily report that my heart attack did not affect my game at all, I still stink. I refer to my game as golful.

Eric Compton is a professional golfer who has had more than his share of heart issues and he is only 27 years old. He had a heart transplant at age 12. His most recent incident occurred while he was filling out insurance forms in the emergency room at Miami’s Jackson Memorial Hospital. After reading Eric’s story by Randall Mell in the Sun-Sentinel.com website I decided he should become the second honoree in the heart attack guy Hall of Fame.

Hang in there Eric!

Joe From Jacksonville

What gave me a chuckle about Joe Dougherty’s heart attack story was his lament over not getting the helicopter ride to the hospital for his cardiac catheterization procedure. Apparently the weather was bad so they had to cart him in the ambulance. I mean if you are going to have a life threatening event at least you sometimes get a helicopter ride.

A whirlybird ride wasn’t even offered in my case. I relate to my hospital transfer as a ride in the back of the truck.

Also, like a true football fan, Joe recalled getting into the ICU in time to catch the fourth quarter of the Steelers/Jets game.

“The Steelers beat the Jets, 20 -17, in overtime. IIRC, the Jets' kicker missed a potential game-winning FG late in the 4th, then another one in the overtime. I remember arriving in the ICU and the nurses getting me settled in the bed. I turned on the TV and saw the game was just going into the 4th quarter, so I got to see the best part of the game.

I also recall getting a little excited as I watched it (along with the arrival of my wife, daughter and other family), and apparently the monitor at the nurses station was indicating that my respiration was up (I was getting oxygen through a nasal fitting), so the nurse had to come in and tell me to relax a little.”

Anyway, he tells a great tale of his cardiac episode here and with a follow up about his ICU roommate here.

When I found his story I dropped him a note to find out how he is doing. It has been about two years since his heart attack and in his words “Things are going well with the old ticker. That was a scary day!”

Amen to that brother.

Heart Attack Video

Okay, this is admittedly sophomoric but it still gave me a good laugh. It qualifies for posting here because it is entitled “Heart Attack.”

Check out the woman at the end. She can toss a mean purse!

Absence Explained...Sort Of.

You may have noticed that I haven’t posted anything here since last Wednesday. Then again maybe you haven’t. According to Google Analytics, only about 18 people have dropped by here since then. So, if you happen to be one of those eighteen who did stop by and wondered “What’s up with the heart attack guy?” please accept my apologies. I was out of town visiting with family for Thanksgiving

Well, I was out of town until Saturday anyway. It just takes a little while to get back in the groove of things once I get home.

My original plan had been to post a fun little video I found on You Tube on Thanksgiving Day. It was a video of a bluesy group called Jack Mack and the Heart Attack performing in Santa Monica. Somehow I muffed up the upload and now I can’t get it back at all. I readily admit to not being the most technologically adept guy out there so the error is probably mine. Let me know if the link works for you.

But now, I’m back and I have a bunch stuff I plan to post in the coming days. Among them is story about my buddy Wayne Ivester. He and I used to do quite a bit cycling together and, as fate would have it, I was part of his heart attack story. I also have a story from a guy named Joe Dougherty down in Florida to share. I like Joe’s heart attack story and it gave me a chuckle. So stay tuned.

And speaking of music groups with heart attack themes, it just so happens that my very own cardiologist, David Jackson, also knows how to rock the house. He and some other heart docs periodically perform as Stevie V and the Heart Attackers. I’ll try to get him to give me a sample of their music to share here. It’s the least he could after all; he got blood from me today!

Some Choice

“We are going to move you to either Adventist Hospital or Johns Hopkins to have a cardiac catheterization procedure.”

David Jackson, my cardiologist, had stopped by the ICU on Sunday to check up on me. I told him I was impressed that he showed up on a Sunday. He was even wearing a tie.

“It’s up to you as to where you’d prefer to go.”

I chose Hopkins. The only reason I chose Hopkins was that, having grown up in Baltimore, I always been told that Johns Hopkins was one of the best hospitals in the world. I also believed that they were particularly renowned for their work with heart patients.

I really didn’t know anything about Adventist Hospital.

Some choice, eh?

I mean, here I am, lying in a bed in the ICU unit and being asked to pick a place to have a pretty serious medical procedure performed and I don’t have so much as a brochure to look at. For all I know Adventist Hospital may actually kick Hopkins ass when it comes to this procedure. How about a sales pitch somebody?

Think about it, this procedure probably costs somewhere around 10 grand (I say somewhere because I have had a difficult time getting a handle on the exact costs…more about that in later post) and no one is pitching me on features and benefits. Maybe it is just my background in sales but I’m thinking that this is a big purchase and all I have to go on is what my cardiologist recommends.

Not that this recommendation doesn’t mean anything I just think there should be more. I think that for the money, there should be more of a sales job. Something like “Adventist Hospital has not lost a patient in a cardiac catheterization procedure for the last six months.”

Or, “This week Johns Hopkins is offering an upgraded hospital room for every cardiac catheterization plus a visit by a Ravens cheerleader.”

The heart attack guy could really help these guys with their marketing.

Do It Yourself Open Heart Surgery

My friend Jessie Newburn found this on the web and forwarded the link to me on to. It is a simulation of open heart surgery and this time you are the surgeon! Sound like fun?

It didn’t to me either but I still gave it a shot. I didn’t get very far before the message “ALERT, surgery was unsuccessful better call your lawyer…Your ineptitude has ended the patient's life…”

This nifty little simulation was found on A Hearty Life.

Sleepless

“I can’t sleep.”

“Whah?”

I had nudged Denise awake. It was around midnight. She had been sleeping. I had been tossing and turning in bed since 6 pm.

I should note here that under normal circumstances I can fall asleep fairly easily. I lay my head on a pillow, I go to sleep. These were not normal circumstances. I had reached the conclusion that something was very wrong me. I uttered the words I thought I’d never hear myself say.

“I think I should go to hospital.”

Every thing you read about a heart attack tells you that the very next thing you should do after coming to a realization such as this is to dial 911. That’s not what I did. No, I came up with a brilliant idea. “I’ll drive over and you stay here with Morgan until her mother gets here.”

I have no doubt that in some heart disease pamphlet or brochure or poster there is an example of somebody taking this very same course of action. It will always be found under a heading like “Bad Example” or “What Not To Do.”

It’s kind of like the drunk who insists he can drive home. Fortunately for me Denise wasn’t having any of that. The end result was a compromise between me not wanting to make a big deal in the middle of the night in the neighborhood and me not driving.

Morgan’s mom showed up shortly and Denise drove me to the hospital. Once I was in the car the wisdom of this course of action became very apparent. I didn’t feel real good.

As we pulled up to the emergency room doors, Denise leans over and looks at me, “It’ll be a lot easier if we tell them we’re married.”

“Works for me.”

I now consider September 30th as our wedding day. We honeymooned in the ICU.

Hall of Fame

For me, Sundays in the fall are football days. So I thought a post about football and heart attacks would be appropriate today. In more than a few of the heart attack stories involving guys that I've found, the guys did not let a little thing like a heart attack keep them from their passion for the game. Even when faced with a life threatening event, these guys still wanted to know how their team was doing.

Take Terry O’Neill for example. His heart attack occurred while he was watching the Steelers Colts playoff game in January 2006 at his local pub. When Jerome Bettis fumbled on the two yard line, Terry went into cardiac arrest. After being released from the hospital he seemed unfazed by his heart attack but he lamented the fact that he’d have to watch the AFC Championship game from home instead of being with his buddies at his favorite watering hole. This was of course the year that the Steelers went on to win the Super Bowl.

For that exanple of a true guy spirit, Terry becomes the first honoree in the heart attack guy Hall of Fame.

Red Wine

“I probably didn’t need that last glass of wine last night.”

“You probably didn’t need that last bottle!”

Denise and I were lying in bed. It was Saturday morning and I felt like crap. The previous evening our friends Alan and Patty had dropped by. We drank a few bottles of wine. At least Patty and I did. Alan later reported that Patty wasn’t feeling that great either.

I had to recover. That evening we had plans to go to a party thrown by our friends Paul and Cindy Skalny. We had been looking forward to it.

“Maybe you should stay in bed for awhile.” That sounded like a good idea to me. Denise was giving me a free pass on our regular Saturday routine. She said she would also keep my daughter occupied. Morgan is nine years old. She spends every Saturday with her dad. I had promised to take her to Clark’s Elioak Farm later that afternoon. Denise didn’t think that was such a great idea.

“When are we going to the petting zoo?” Morgan had come up to our bedroom. It was then about three o’clock in the afternoon. Typical of a dad, I am somewhat of a pushover for my daughter.

“I’ll get up now and we can go.” I still wasn’t feeling that great but I convinced myself I felt a little better. I was beginning to suspect that perhaps this was more than a red wine hangover I was dealing with. We went to the petting zoo and she had a great time. I felt tired but otherwise okay. Still, I took it slow and avoided any running around. Before long we were back home and it was time to shower up and get ready to go to the party.

Around six o’clock I was all dressed and ready to go. The babysitter was at the house and Denise had put together a little dinner for Morgan. I went back upstairs to get a sports coat. No sooner than I walked into our bedroom I started feeling a little nauseous. I sat down on the sofa in our bedroom. I felt real clammy. This was certainly no red wine hangover like I had ever experienced. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, I had just had my heart attack.

“I don’t think I should go to the party tonight.” Even though she was dressed and ready to go, Denise immediately agreed with that plan.

“You should climb back in bed.”

She got no argument from me. I was now beginning to think that a trip to the hospital was not outside the realm of possibilities. Still, I wasn’t ready to admit that I was THAT sick. I took off my clothes and climbed back into bed.

It would be another six hours before I finally decided that it was in fact time to go to the hospital.

Longevity Game

I got this from a link I found on ScienceRoll. It is called the Longevity Game and it aims to predict how long you are likely to live.

The test covers all those things we intrinsically know have an adverse effect on our health like weight and drinking yet some of us still occasionally overdo anyway.

I do have a problem with the drinking question. I don’t feel I was offered an option that reflects my drinking profile.

Northwestern Mutual Financial Network created the game because they “…know a thing or two about longevity because we’ve been tracking statistics that impact life since 1857. And that wealth of knowledge helped us shape the Longevity Game.”

Well put.

According to the game I’ll live until I’m 78. How much time is left in your game?

The Doctor's Visit

“150 over 90”

She said that without any emotion. Just as someone might read the ingredients off a cereal box. I have noticed this on previous visits as well. It doesn’t matter what the blood pressure reading is, the nurse just recites it in matter of fact manner. She leaves the editorializing to Dr. Diener.

Steve Diener is my primary care doc. I like him personally but his office sucks. A typical appointment will involve at least a twenty minute wait in the waiting room (it’s called that for a reason) and then at least a fifteen minute wait in the exam room. The exam room waits are the worst. At least in the waiting room there are magazines to read. In the exam there is nothing but some model of a backbone. I’ve taken that thing apart and put it back together more times than I can count.

“You say you are having some chest pains?”

“No. It is more of a nagging tightness.”

“We going to do an EKG, take off your shirt and I’ll be right back.”

I am getting good at EKG’s. Since we began trying to get my blood pressure under control two years ago, I have had four or five of them. I’ve also had two stress tests which all means that I’ve had a fair number of chest hairs ripped out as a result.

She administers the EKG, rips the leads and more hairs off my chest and informs me that Dr. Diener will get with me as soon as he finishes up with another patient. This is what they always say.

After taking apart and reassembling the back bone model several more times, Dr. Diener appears. He is not pleased.

“Your blood pressure is still too high. We need to get this under control.”

Okay. When we first started working on my high blood pressure problem over two years ago he put me on a mild regime of Linisporil (5mg twice daily). That didn’t do much. After my second stress test, my cardiologist, David Jackson, upped that to 20 mgs once daily. On my last visit to Dr. Diener, three months before this particular visit, he added 40 mgs of Benicar daily to the mix.

“I’m going to start you on Coreg instead of the Linisporil and add a diuretic called HCTZ. Your EKG looks fine but if that tightness gets any worse I want you to go to the emergency room. I also want to see you again in a week in the meantime, no exercise.”

The EKG didn’t mean shit and I would not see him next week either. It was three days before my heart attack.

The Heart Attack Grill

Ya gotta love this place for its brutal honesty. They sell a Double Bypass Burger®, a Triple Bypass Burger® and a Quadruple Bypass Burger®. They proudly serve French fries that are deep fried in lard and the waitresses are called nurses. Upon request they will even wheel you out to your car in wheelchair after your meal.

They even sell cigarettes.

Of course you can get this kind of artery clogging food anywhere but I know of no other place that comes right out and calls it what it is. It seems to be good for business too. Go figure.

The Treadmill Incident

“You don’t look too good.”

I’ve noticed that guys never hesitate to say that to each other, especially a buddy. Richard is my buddy. He and I ran together on the treadmills at the Coliseum Gym every Monday and Friday morning. I would get to gym first and spend a half hour with Tim, my personal trainer, before joining up with Richard on the treadmills.

We had been doing this on and off for a few years. For the past year we were frequently joined by Fred and Phil. I mention this because the four of us represented four different decades. Fred is in his seventies, Richard is in his sixties, I am in my fifties and Phil is in his forties. I swear to god that we didn’t consciously set it up this way but we were usually aligned in that exact chronological order. Fred was in the best shape of all of us. I was the only one who had a heart attack.

It had been two days since I first noticed “tightness” in my chest. That morning I went through my normal half hour weight training with Tim. Surprisingly, I made it through the weight lifting regime as I normally would. It would not be accurate to say that it was without difficulty because at 5:30 on a Friday morning everything is difficult. This particular day did not seem that exceptional, except of course for that nagging little tightness in my chest. At this point I am beginning to add the word “nagging” to tightness.

After Tim and I finished I headed on over to the treadmills. Fred and Richard were already going at it. Typically Richard will go for an hour while I usually settle for fifty minutes. God only knows how long Fred goes. He starts first, followed by Richard, followed by me, and followed by Phil, again, in that strangely coincidental chronological order.

I started up at a pace of 6.2 miles per hour. After about five minutes I was completely gassed. I look over to Richard on my right. “I don’t feel too good this morning.” Apparently I didn’t look so hot either.

“You don’t look so good.”

“I think I’ll call it quits.”

Richard quickly endorses this decision. “You should go home and lie down.”

I’m all over that. I headed on home and went back to bed. Denise tells me to make an appointment with Steve Diener, my primary care doc. Another good idea.

It was nine days before my heart attack.

Speed Bump

click to enlarge

I am a big fan of Dave Coverly and his Speed Bump cartoon. This particular one really nailed how I often feel in the presence of my doctor.

I tore this panel from The Washington Post and asked Dave if I could post it here. He graciously consented.

Thanks Dave!

My First Indication

“How do you know if you are having a cardiac event?”

We were standing in the kitchen. It was around 6:15 on a Wednesday morning. Denise was getting ready for work and I had just come in from a run. My chest felt tight.

“What are the symptoms,” she asked. In the interest of full disclosure here I should note that Denise is a registered nurse. It’s nice to have a RN in the house.

“My chest feels tight.” I am a 52 year old male. After fifty a feeling of tightness in various body parts is not that unusual. Combined with the fact that I had been on a “get in shape, lose twenty pounds” kick since March. This all started out when a bunch of my John Carroll buddies and I were in Naples for our own unique version of Spring Training. While sitting around the pool with our shirts off and beers in our hands, Stan made a comment that perhaps some us should try to take off a few pounds before our 30th college reunion coming up that June. I was one of the guys he was referring to.

So I took the challenge. By June I had dropped twenty pounds. I accomplished this goal the old fashioned way of diet and exercise. For the diet part I cut out the things I love like cookies and ice cream. I gave up French fries. Denise was a big help in this regard. She cooks pretty healthy and nourishing meals for our little household so eating at home helped. When I went to lunch at work with the guys at the office I would eat salads…like a girl. I also gave up alcohol on week days, sort of. I mean by Thursday, I was ready for a drink.

For exercise I started running. For years I have had this on and off thing with running. The bottom line is that I hate running. The only thing I like about running is being finished. It is akin to banging your head against the wall; it feels good when you stop. That said, I have a grudging respect for the effectiveness of running in weight loss and overall conditioning. So I bit my lip and started running. I ran an average of four days a week both inside on a treadmill at the gym and outside in my very hilly community in Ellicott City. Before this particular morning I was averaging 20 miles a week.

This morning it was an outside run day. As I stated, the only thing I like about running is finishing. Today the last mile and half were a little more difficult than usual. At the end of the run I didn’t feel great. My chest felt “tight.”

“Is it a chest pain?”

“No it’s just tightness. Not painful, just a little tight.”

“Any other symptoms?”

“No, other than that I feel fine.” I sub consciously forgot to tell her about how I felt on that last mile and half. I didn't think that was significant. As with any regular exercise regime you have your good days and your bad days. This was just a bad day. At least that’s how I rationalized it.

“Maybe you should take a day off running.”

I was actually thinking the same thing. Over the previous two weeks I had increased my running days from four days to five days. I figured that maybe I was overdoing it a little bit. I just needed a recovery day “Okay. No running tomorrow.” That would turn out to be my last run for quite awhile.

This was Wednesday, September 19th. It was eleven days before my heart attack.

How This Got Started

“Your EKG is fine.”

Somehow that is not very comforting when you are lying on a bed in the Emergency Room recovering from your second nitro tablet of the night. The first one wasn’t bad; the second one packed a punch.

This bit of medical news was soon trumped by the results of the blood test they had seemingly just taken. Time tends to get a bit distorted for me in situations like this, not that I’d ever been in a situation like this. “Well Mr. Lane, you’ve had a heart attack.”

Okay, so far I’ve learned that the EKG didn’t mean shit.

To tell you the truth being told that I had a heart attack was a little anti climatic. I mean I knew something major had occurred after all I was laying on a table in an emergency room with oxygen in my nostrils and three IV drips in my arm. Since my blood pressure had already been running high, a heart attack was high up on the list of probabilities. Still this was big news. I had a heart attack. People die from heart attacks.

The thing was, it really didn’t feel like a heart attack. At least it didn’t feel like I always thought a heart attack would. A heart attack sounds like something that should knock you to your knees. Mine didn’t. It also didn’t kill me which has allowed me to start this blog.

This is a place to share the everyday experiences of regular folks who through the luck of the draw live with heart disease. This is the non clinical view from the pointy end of the needle. This is a place for folks who have had a heart attack and those who think that having one in their life is a distinct probability. This is a place for humor, real stories, and perhaps some useful advice. I am your host, the heart attack guy.