Tag: hospital

HEART BROKEN

HEART BROKEN
I broke my heart in 2018, not from a lost love but because it really broke.
Have you ever broken a bone? My sister broke her leg on the ski slopes once. I was skiing right next to her on the same slope, yet my leg did not break.
She was taken into a nearby Colorado town to the hospital. There a doctor set her leg, put it in a cast to heal and said, “You’ll be good as new in six weeks”.
If you break your heart the doctor can fix some things but you’re not quite good as new. The “fix” is often a tiny little stent inserted into your artery while in a “Cath Lab” at the hospital.
I have two, some people have four or five. I met a guy once who has nine.
I joined the ranks of fixed repaired hearts on a sunny Saturday in February. It was my birthday, I was terrified because when they said heart attack, I was sure I would die.
When you get this kind of fix, somehow you believe your heart will go back to normal, but with many of us heart patients, there’s damage. Even though that artery is working, it is not back to full capacity.
After heart failure, my life changed forever. Each day of my hospital stay, I heard from either a doctor or a nurse about pills with long names, special diets to keep sodium and cholesterol levels at bay, exercises to strengthen my body and my heart, and a contraption called a defibrillator life vest.
The phrase “new normal” was bantered around like a volley ball. I began to cry. A soft-spoken cardiac nurse said “What’s wrong”?
I blubbered, “I don’t know what to do. I had a heart attack and it was fixed but I don’t feel like it! I want to feel normal but I don’t”!
If I could have stomped my foot I would. I was pissed off.
The more I thought about, the emotions started to boil. Why was I so angry? She was quick to reply, “this is normal. You will feel a roller coaster of emotions now and all during your recovery”.
I wiped my eyes and looked into her thoughtful face while she said, “you are suffering grief – grieving the life you think you’re losing”.
The tears began again, “Will I ever be normal again? Will my heart be normal”?
She calms me by saying, “you will get to a new normal, but your heart has damage from the heart attack. I can’t say how this damage will affect your daily life, but I can tell you, you may feel depressed at some point. When you do, get help.”
“For now, get some rest, you’re in good hands”, and left the room silently.
I slept, I dreamed, I thanked God for saving my life, I filled my heart with gratitude to tamp down the anger. I allowed my sadness and grief.
The day I was released, I wanted to jump for joy but couldn’t because I was too weak, needing a walker to get home and then inside my own house getting from room to room.
Now two years later, my heart pumps to its own beat. I still catch emotions rising. Is this my new normal?
I wish for my kindly cardiac nurse to appear, soothe my brow, and say “Yes, dear, it is”.

Just say these words at the Hospital “Heart Attack!” (the story Part 3)

I’m sharing the frightening experience of having a heart attack on a day I was “too busy” to deal with my symptoms.
 
So many women tell me they ‘push through’ while taking care of everyone else but ourselves.
It’s Friday, February 9th. After suffering through an excruciating set of symptoms the previous day, I wake on Friday with a day full of plans and a long to do list! I needed to get to the grocery store to buy the food and snacks I planned to serve to my writing class the next day.
 
I want to wash my hair and get cleaned up. Into the shower I go, raising my arms to wash my hair seemed such an effort, I was out of breath.
 
So, with a towel wrapped around my head, I put on my terry robe and laid on the bed until my breathing returned to normal.
 
Blow drying my hair caused the same effect. Holding a brush in one hand and the blow dryer in the other, with my arms above my head was a challenge. I was exhausted and short of breath.
 
Back to the bed I went, laying down for the second time that morning and it wasn’t even 8:00! This was unacceptable, I had too much to do to be laying down every five minutes.
 
I knew something wasn’t right but I was determined to push through because I had lots to do for my class the next morning!
So, I charged off to grocery shop.
 
The small neighborhood store was comforting as I knew where to find my favorite foods for writing students.
 
Veggie tray, crackers, cheese, fruit, but the cookie aisle did me in! I reach for a pack of gourmet cookies and they fell to the floor. Bending down to retrieve them I suddenly realized I would faint if I completed the bend.
 
I left them on the floor and retreated to the register to check out.
 
My legs felt so heavy, I could barely move! I grabbed a cold Coca Cola from the case and thought the jolt of caffeine and sugar would pick me up. I drank it straight down!
 
I loaded the two bags of groceries into the back of the SUV like I was moving through syrup. I was short of breath again and the pain in my collarbone was now constant. I drove home more carefully than ever before! I was terrified I’d pass out – I was that exhausted.
 
I finally gave in and called my primary care doctor. “He’s out of town, sorry” said the nurse.
 
“Is someone covering for him? Who can I see?” I begged.
 
Her answer was short and sweet and it was to either call my cardiologist or go to the emergency room.
 
My reply, “I can’t go to the ER! I have too much to do!” I wailed. Her reply still haunts me. She said, “You can’t do anything if you’re dead,” I didn’t reply.
 
Thankfully, I did have a cardiologist to call they found my file (after ten years) and they’d work me in at 1:00 that day. I called my husband and we drove there together.
 
After a tech hooked me up to an EKG, he shook his head as he watched the needle move. The associate doctor came in, looked at the EKG and frowned.
 
When the head doctor (Doctor M.) enters the room and they are all staring at the EKG machine, I knew something was up.
 
Doctor M. says evenly, “You’re having a heart attack right now, you have to go to the ER immediately”. What! It can’t be – I thought he would just give me some blood pressure pills and send me one my way.
 
I’m terrified – I look over at my husband – I think he’s terrified too.
 
Things begin happening fast. The tech gives me a baby aspirin. The associate doctor gives me nitroglycerine under my tongue. I see Doctor M. on the phone making arrangements for me.
 
“Oh God”, I pray silently. He comes back and told have Tomas to drive me there NOW – it’s four blocks from his office.
 
Tomas drops me off at ER. I was whisked inside and placed on a gurney. I wince as they peeled off my brand new black leggings and my underwear. I’m allowed to take off my top and bra – the gown goes on so quickly – nobody sees anything.
 
People swarm around me, doctors, nurses, techs, each saying their name and what they were going to do to me. They are calm.
 
They take my blood, put in a needle for an IV, ask me questions about my health history, my medications, and my nail polish.
 

Yes, my nail polish – they want to remove it, but I know it won’t come off because its “shellac”. I try to explain this.
 
They want to clip a heart monitor on my finger and the polish interferes. Quickly, they attach it to my ear.
 
I feel a breeze on my face – it’s from rolling fast on the gurney, on my way to the “Cath Lab”. They explain every movement and where we are – I’m beginning not to care.
 
Less than 20 minutes have passed since I walked in.
 
When I wake up, I’m in a private room. There are nurses, techs, and orderlies in and out. My husband is there and my son is there.
 
I’m starving, I can’t eat until another round of tests are run. That night is a blur of fitful sleeping, bad dreams, a dinner tray brought at 10:00pm and trying to get comfortable.
 
Early morning brings more nurses taking blood, bringing pills and taking vitals. My breathing is still labored and my collarbone pain has moved to my chest.
 
Three doctors visit and determine I’m not better and order tests. They give me something to get the fluid off my lungs and perform an Echo cardiogram
 
Hours later, the hospital’s cardiologist, Doctor W. tells me he’s taking me back to the Cath lab to fix another artery. I trust him.
 
After a second stent, I improve dramatically. Everyone notices and test results improve.
 
All this improvement occurred on day two of my three day stay. Next, I’ll write about the overwhelm of being released and taking care of a ‘new’ me.
 
If you want to read the heart attack story previous installments, follow the link in comments below.
 
TIP: Hospitals will take you right in if you say the words “heart attack”.