It was a Saturday. My husband’s family had gathered at my in-laws to do some painting on their newest “fixer upper”. We were all winding down and decided that it was time to stop and eat dinner together at our favorite Mexican food restaurant. The guys went outside and picked up a basketball and began to play for a little while. After a few minutes, we all loaded up and went to the restaurant. After ordering, my sweaty husband got my attention and asked me to bring his home because he wasn’t feeling well. So, I stayed with the rest of the family and brought his meal home. I found him in bed complaining of pain in his diaphragm. He said that he thought he must be getting a stomach virus. He was only 43, and honestly a heart attack never entered my mind. He is a tall guy with an athletic build, not overweight, low cholesterol, non-smoker…..no real risk factors except for one…stress. His job was stressful and he is a major people pleaser.
He happens to be one of those leave me alone….I’m sickk kind of people. I, on the other hand, like to be the center of attention when I’m sick. So, it’s hard for me not to constantly check in on my patient and want to help. I did my best to let him rest, but it wasn’t easy. We didn’t go to church the next morning and he seemed to be feeling better. On Monday morning, he got up and went to work…he had probably a million sick days built up…but those must be for sissies…not for big strapping healthy men.
Later that morning, his secretary called me at my office. She told me that she was really worried about my husband and said that “his color just doesn’t look right”. I immediately called the local rural clinic and made him an appointment. I met him out there as they were giving him the results of the blood work. Fortunately for us, the physician that saw my husband that day previously worked in a trauma unit at a large hospital and knew immediately what had happened. My husband’s blood enzyme level test was elevated, indicating that he had a heart attack. Instead of the doctor telling him those words, he just said that the levels were elevated and that he needed to see a cardiologist. He told him that he had made him an appointment for the next day. So, I dealt with the knowledge that my husband could easily have died on Saturday, or Sunday, or even today. I also dealt with a very long evening and night. He wasn’t very concerned because he didn’t realize what had happened and yes…he went ahead and attended a board meeting that evening. I spent a sleepless night just listening to him breathe.
The next morning when he was in the shower, I discreetly packed an overnight bag for him. I knew that they would keep him. I say discreetly, because I wanted him to stay calm. I tend to believe that ignorance is bliss. Not that he’s ignorant, of course…..just a man in total and complete denial.
We got to the cardiologist’s office with lab work in hand. The cardiologist took one look at it and said, “well, it looks like you had a heart attack”. My husband’s response was typical, “really?” he said. The doctor said that he would need to check in at the hospital for a heart catheterization. So, we walked out of the office and drove over to the hospital. I grabbed the overnight bag and just looked at him and said “I’m sorry….I knew we would be staying.”
A friend from high school that was now the director of cardiology at the cardiologist’s office was there to keep me company during the heart catheterization procedure. It really was a blessing because he told me what to expect. I do better when I know what is happening. What I wasn’t prepared for was the news that my husband needed open heart surgery….two by-passes. I was terrified. I had seen the procedure on ER….I knew what was involved. Thinking about our two children, ages 11 and 16 made me even more emotional. But, after viewing the films that revealed a complete blockage on one artery, and an 80% blockage on the artery that is called “the widow-maker“…I knew that it was absolutely necessary.
The surgery didn’t happen immediately. Weird blood work delayed the surgery until Thursday morning. In the meantime, our hospital room was a revolving door of well meaning friends, relatives, and my husband’s employees. This man is not only loved by me, but just about anyone that knows him. He’s that kind of guy. The constant stream of visitors was great, but exhausting. I made a mental note to remember for the future…keep your hospital visits short….say hello, I’m thinking about you, I’ll be praying, and let me know if I can help…then leave.
The morning of the surgery finally arrived. He acted as though he was going in for a root canal. So, I kissed him and watched as they rolled the other half of my heart down to the operating room. The waiting room, again, was filled and overflowing with our family and friends. After about four hours, I started getting really anxious. At the fifth hour, I had to get up and away from everybody. I needed a quiet place. I found a little hideaway down the hall, but within view of the hallway that the Dr. would come down after the surgery. It was during this time that I felt the most complete and empty feeling that I have ever experienced. I just sat down and cried and prayed. I was never told that they had any trouble getting his heart beating again…but I felt so alone. I have always wondered…
I don’t know how much time passed, but a dear friend came around the corner and told me that the doctor was coming down the hall. Like a row of dominoes, I followed in behind the doctor, followed by our family and friends as we filed into the “family” room off of the waiting room. It was the longest twenty steps I had ever taken because the idea that he was taking us into the “family” room was terrifying. The doctor stopped and turned around….I stopped almost bumping into him followed by a chain reaction. We must have looked like a bunch of bozos. But, the news was good. He had made it through the surgery without complications. Thank you Lord….
Thankfully, my friend had prepared me for what I would see when I got to see my husband in ICU. Tubes, machines, more tubes, wires, and masks would be everywhere. Before he went in for surgery, we came up with a “secret” message between the two of us. We knew that he would be on a ventilator for a while and wouldn’t be able to talk. I told him to raise his eyebrow if he could hear me and was okay. When I went in to see him for the first time, I was able to look past all of the tubes, machines, more tubes, wires, and masks and look into his eyes. My first question was, “remember our secret?” Not only did he raise one eyebrow, he raised both…several times…separately….together…over and over again. Thank you Lord for my husband, the comedian. Thank you Lord.
ICU is not a particularly great place for the family, but I liked the idea that a nurse was sitting five feet from his bed 24/7. I felt really important once when the respiratory therapist told me that he was trying to get him off the ventilator, but that my husband was having trouble. I watched for a little while and realized that he was doing the opposite of what he was told…typical man. I told him, honey..breathe in when I say breathe in…then breathe out..and the rest is history. I may have a future as a respiratory therapist.
The next day, he was released from ICU and put into a regular room…after first being placed into a shared room with a man that was throwing up. I’m normally a very polite and courteous woman, but when someone isn’t taking care of my family…I can get ugly. The doctor had requested a private room and the nursing staff was trying to tell me that there wasn’t one available. I had a “conversation” with the head nurse and I’m certain that I became the witch with a b….in the last room down the hall.
The next four days were pretty uneventful. Uneventful is good when you are a heart patient. I hadn’t left the hospital since he was admitted, so was pretty exhausted. I started having panic attacks that give you the same symptoms as a heart attack. But, I felt pretty confident that I wouldn’t also be having a heart attack. I mean, really..what are the odds of that? So I just got through it. I knew if I said anything to anybody that they might make me leave. I couldn’t leave…after all, I had to give him his sponge baths. I had to protect him from my mother trying to do it. She actually tried to convince him that she had given plenty of sponge baths and had seen just about everything. He just responded by raising his eyebrow and giving me that special “look”. Enough said.
It’s been nine years now since the surgery and he is doing well. We did change cardiologists around year seven because the first one wouldn’t ever do any testing other than blood work. I kind of insisted that he get a second opinion. I think the good Lord just lets us know when something isn’t right. Sure enough, he failed the stress test and the echo-cardiogram. So, the cardiologist recommended another heart catheterization. He said that it wasn’t absolutely necessary to do it immediately since he wasn’t having any symptoms, but that he could do it now…or later. So, we chose now. This time, the blockage was opened up by a stent and he was home the next day. Thank you Lord.
There have been many good things that have come from his experience. Droves of men have gone for checkups as a result of his heart attack and surgery…simply because he didn’t look like the type that was at risk. He is always advising men to go and get those strange symptoms checked out. If I had it all to do over again, I would have made sure that he had seen a cardiologist before his 40th birthday. As strange as it may sound, older men are more likely to survive heart attacks than younger men because their arteries have formed alternate pathways over time. Younger men don’t have these alternate pathways, so when they have a blockage…it can be catastrophic. So, please pay attention to the warning signs of a heart attack. And, make your husband an appointment to see a cardiologist even before he has any symptoms. Ask around and be sure to find one that focuses on heart disease prevention instead of just treatment and medication. Follow your instincts and find a physician you trust. Some people tend to be intimidated by doctors and think that if they’re a doctor, they can be trusted to care for you and your family. Just remember what somebody told me one time…”just because they’re a doctor doesn’t mean that they graduated at the top of their class”.
Thank you Lord…for good doctors, nurses, and surgeons that are dedicated and devoted to the profession of medicine and healing.
Rheumatoid…makes me think of hemorrhoid. The similarity between the two is that they both involve pain and both could easily fit in the “pain in the a**” category.
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