The Friday before Labor Day 2010 was a beautiful day. The
sun was shining and I was planning to go for a walk, but first I was going to
spend some time playing my then favorite online game, especially since they
were doing a double experience weekend for members only, which I was.
I went to another room of the house for a few minutes and as
I started to come back to my computer, something really weird happened. I was
suddenly short of breath, my throat felt tight and my lower back hurt. My first
thought was that maybe I was having a severe allergic reaction to something,
but I’m not really allergic to anything and I hadn’t been near any common
allergens, such as bees for days. That’s when I realized something else was
wrong. I decided to sit down for a minute and see what happened. Then I
remembered that when it comes to heart attacks, women tend to have very
different symptoms than men. I was sitting in front of my computer, so I did a
search. Holy Cow! I got over a million hits and as I scrolled through and
checked out a few, I realized that I could spend all day looking and not find
an exact match for my symptoms. That’s when I decided it was better to risk
making a fool of myself with 911 and emergency personnel than to potentially
cause myself serious problems.
So, I called 911 and the operator asked me what I needed. I
didn’t quite understand the question at first, so I described my symptoms and
she dispatched an ambulance to my house. The EMTs came in and checked me out,
then slowly walked me to the ambulance.
They took me to a local hospital ER and as I was laying on
the cot, it dawned on me that I was still in my bathrobe and nightgown as I’d
been too scared to get dressed. Then I realized that I didn’t have any way to
get home after I was done being treated for whatever was wrong. So, I used my
cell phone and called my brother and left a message.
While I was waiting to be taken care of, a nurse told me
that she thought that whatever was wrong with me was muscular. I looked at her
and thought, “No, it’s not. I know my body well enough to know this isn’t
muscular and I haven’t done anything in recent days to warrant that kind of
injury.” I got the impression that the ER doctor was having a
difficult time diagnosing my problem. Then someone decided to give me a nitro
glycerin pill. Those things are weird. You slowly dissolve it under your
tongue, but if it gets on your tongue, it tingles. However, it made me feel
better and that’s when I found out I’d be staying overnight. So, I called my
brother back and told him not to worry about me.
The next day, a man walks into my room and introduces
himself as Dr. B, a cardiologist. He’d been called in because of my heart and
wanted to do an angiogram. Basically, he wanted to insert a tube in my groin to
have a good look at my heart. I said that there had to be a less invasive way
to look at my heart. He said that an angiogram was the best way. I kept
insisting there had to be a less invasive way. He finally relented and said
he’d see who was on duty in the tech department. While he was gone, I called my
doctor’s after hours nurse and spoke with her. By the time he came back, I was
ready to let him do the angiogram, but he’d found someone he liked in the tech
department.
She brought in an ultrasound machine and used it on my
heart. I could tell by the way they were talking during the ultrasound that something serious was wrong
and at that point I’d have let him do just about anything he thought necessary
to take care of me. After the ultrasound on my heart, I was told not to eat as
they wanted to do a CAT scan as well. I was taken downstairs for that and when
it was over, was told I could eat. I ordered lunch and had eaten maybe two or three
bites when a nurse walked in and said, “Stop Eating!” in a loud voice. That’s
when I knew they wanted to do surgery and they wanted to do it ASAP.
The doctor came back into the room and explained that my
aorta was dissecting or separating like layers of a tissue. He wanted to send
me to a particular hospital, but my case was tricky, so it depended on who was
on duty there. He told me the other two choices and I gave him my preference.
The third hospital was the last place I wanted to be as they were part of a
large university and I’d had a bad experience with the dental school several
years prior. In the end, I ended up at the one I didn’t want because it had the
only doctor on duty qualified to do what needed to be done. An ambulance was
called to take me there.
When I got there, the surgeon told me that even when my type
of surgery is planned, it’s tricky. One in four people don’t get off the table
in my circumstances. I looked at him and said, “Okay,” and that’s the last
thing I remember till I woke up with a tube in my throat and straps holding me down. I
literally couldn’t move or speak. I heard a voice say, “Oh, good you’re awake”
and then she went to get someone. Turns out I was in the ICU. I have no idea
how long I spent in the hospital total after my surgery, but I’d say 4 – 5
days.
When I came home, I spent most days just sleeping or
watching TV. I literally did not have the energy to do anything else. I
couldn’t even sit at my computer for more than a few minutes without feeling
absolutely exhausted. This was one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had
to go through medically.
I have healed well and do try to take better care of myself than I used
to before this happened. It acted as something of a wake up call, even
though my cardiologist thinks part of the problem was genetic.
I am immensely grateful for the people involved in saving my
life, not just the medical personnel, but for those of you reading this who
have donated blood at some point in your life. I learned that I’d been given a “six
pack of platelets” during my surgery. That means that it took six individuals
with their own busy lives who were willing to make time to donate blood to save
mine.
I also learned on my first follow up with the cardiologist,
Dr. B that it was a good thing that I’d insisted there had to be a less
invasive way to look at my heart. He told me that if they’d gone up the wrong
way, they could have made things worse. So, never be afraid to speak up if
you’re not comfortable with what the doctor is saying. It could save your life
or the life of someone you love.
P.S. One other good thing came out of this. I’d been home
for a short time when a former neighbor came by claiming to have a rebate for
some work he’d done for us over a year ago. I was still in my nightshirt that
day and he told me to get dressed and he’d me to get take me to the bank. I thought that
was odd as he’d never mentioned one at the time the work was done and rebates
are usually done by mail. I suspect he was hoping to get me somewhere by myself
in hopes of convincing me to move with him to where he now lived. I’d known
since long before he moved away that he was far more interested in me than I was in
him. When I told him that I simply didn’t have the energy, he said, “Why not?”
I pulled the neck of my nightshirt down and said, “I just
got home from having heart surgery.” Now, at this point I still had the
stitches in my chest, so it wasn’t a pretty sight. I don’t remember what he
said after that, but he quickly left. He came back the next day and told me
that he hadn’t been able to eat dinner and he’d had nightmares the night before. I
haven’t seen him since.
