Month: February 2013

Sacred Heart Attack – Chapter 4: Everyone is Shocked

We pick up my journal on Thursday afternoon, the day after my heart attack. The ripple of communication about my Montreal surprise is just beginning to widen.

“I didn’t have much of an appetite and hadn’t eaten since breakfast on Wednesday. For lunch, I ate some fruit, a small salad and a cracker. I couldn’t eat the spaghetti, although it looked good.

Curt was finally able to reach Jenny by phone after school on Thursday. She quickly called me back on the hospital phone in my room. We talked for several minutes and were both in shock. And we were both encouraged that my voice sounded strong and healthy. Pretty normal. I told her what had happened and we talked about how we would tell the boys and my siblings. She would call the boys and our daughter-in-law and invite them to call me. I would send an email to my two brothers and sister. I also sent an email to the elders and pastors at my church and a few other friends.

I suppose it was no surprise that everyone was shocked by the news. Since I was hundreds of miles away, we had made the decision to underplay the significance or the severity of the heart attack for a few days by not going into a lot of detail. And since I was sounding pretty good on the phone – I guess I still had some adrenaline in my system – it was easy to pull off. But, the medical staff and Curt would remind me of the reality of my situation from time to time to keep my feet on the ground. I could not deny the reality that my heart had been weakened and damaged. I didn’t know what that would mean, but I knew that things were going to be different.

I was taking a large potassium pill and a water pill due to some extra fluid that was still in my lungs. Early on, I would simply take whatever pill the nurse was offering me. I was trusting that all of the bases were being covered. I had a bit of a fever, too, and the Tylenol seemed to take care of that. That was my only option for fever or pain.

Curt was interested in talking about when Jenny would be flying to Montreal. I was more concerned with protecting her during her busy season at school and not wanting to make plans until we knew my status and how long I might be staying in the hospital. There was a thought floating around that I might have to stay in Montreal for two weeks before flying home. Making international travel plans required a bit more planning than we had data for at that point.

At some point Thursday evening, I talked to our oldest son Jameson. He was totally shocked, as was his wife Bethany who was listening in the background when Jenny had called Jameson. Bethany said that she knew they couldn’t be talking about me and must be talking about someone else who had heart problems. It was good to talk with them. It was Friday when I talked with Justin, our middle son, who had been called by Jenny the night before during rehearsals of a new show that was about to open. Justin said that he had been too emotionally spent from his day and my news to call on Thursday. I know the feeling. Jed would call later in the weekend and in his unique style started off by saying something to the effect of, “So, you had a little surprise up there in Montreal.”

As messages began to come back from friends and family, it is restorative and nourishing one’s soul to hear folks say that they are glad and thankful that you are alive. And for them to be thanking God that you are alive.

For a couple of years, I have been using a birthday greeting that I learned from Henri Nouwen. It is in his “daybook” called “Bread for the Journey” on the reading for February 13. Here it is:

 Celebrating Being Alive

Birthdays are so important. On our birthdays we celebrate being alive. On our birthdays people can say to us, “Thank you for being!” Birthday presents are signs of our families’ and friends’ joy that we are part of their lives. Little children often look forward to their birthdays for months. Their birthdays are their big days, when they are the center of attention and all their friends come to celebrate.

We should never forget our birthdays or the birthdays of those who are close to us. Birthdays keep us childlike. They remind us that what is important is not what we do or accomplish, not what we have or who we know, but that we are, here and now. On birthdays let us be grateful for the gift of life.’

It is a powerful and profound message that truly says what we feel, but are often afraid to say. Coming near to death gives us an invitation to express how we really feel about someone. A birthday can do that as well.

Curt, also, shared with me that night some of his and Nathan’s conversation from Wednesday evening while I was in surgery. They discussed ways that this heart attack might change my life and how things would be different. They observed that I was a good man and that I really “got” the mission and vision of L’Arche. Good words to hear.

I slept well that night.”

Sacred Heart Attack — Chapter 3: “Don’t Worry”

This is the third chapter in my journal from my heart attack in Montreal that I suffered on Wednesday January 9, 2013. The clot aspiration and angioplasty procedure to unblock my anterior pulmonary artery seems to have been successful and I’ve been moved into the Cardiac Care Unit (CCU) of Sacred Heart Hospital in Montreal. This is where we pick up my story.

“Throughout the night there were regular visits by nurses and orderlies to check my vital signs, sample my blood and make sure the I-V’s were working. Quite early in the morning on Thursday, I was greeted by a young, petite Chinese-French-Canadian woman in a crisp white jacket. She introduced herself as one of the Resident Cardiologists who would be overseeing my care. She asked me how I felt, listened to me breathe, listened to my heart beat and looked at the right side of my neck. She liked to use the word, “Perfect.” In fact, I think that was one of the favorite words of all of the doctors. So, everything was looking, eh, perfect.

She said that there were questions about my insurance and how payment might come. I’m thinking, yeah, I’m way out of network at this point! She said that hopefully they would hear from my insurance company about care and next steps. I felt vulnerable and weak. Then, she said, ‘But don’t worry, we’re going to take care of you, regardless.’

It was as if her voice and words were the voice and words of Jesus. I felt loved. I said, ‘Thank you. Thank you.’ She smiled and left my room. I went back to sleep.

During a heart attack like mine, the blood begins to back up in the vessels coming from my lungs. The extra pressure forces liquid out of my blood and into the air sacs of my lungs. If the process wasn’t stopped, I could’ve drowned in my own body fluids. So, one of the residual effects of the blockage of my artery was that there was still extra fluid in my lungs. Meds that I’m taking are helping to move that extra fluid out through urination. In the meantime, there’s a sign on the window of my room saying that my fluids are being limited. When most patients in CCU received a Big-Gulp-sized cup of iced water to start the day, I got the 8 ozs. version. Even though I had a saline drip in one of my I-V’s, I spent the next couple of days being thirsty.

So, throughout Thursday, it was BP, pulse, a paper ‘thermometer’ to check my body temperature, random EKG’s, multiple blood samples (the nurses had a port in my right arm reserved for snapping on test tubes), and the listening to and looking at my body. And most commonly followed by, from my otherwise French-speaking friends, the adjective: Perfect! I began thinking, “Really? I just had a major heart attack. How about ‘Good…, under the circumstances? Or, not terrible?’

Dr. Guy Lalonde was the chief cardiologist with oversight of my care. Every morning a couple of the resident (young) cardiologists would come to see me and then sometime later, Dr. Lalonde and “the bus” (as the nurses called the entourage of residents and a pharmacy student) would come to my room to do a more in-depth examination and discussion of how I was feeling.

Pretty soon, Dr. Lalonde began discussing the left-side artery that was approximately 70% blocked and whether I (and my insurance company) wanted to go ahead and put a stent in it on Friday. My inclination was to go ahead with that course of action since that would be the standard protocol with patients in my condition. Since Canada has a national health insurance program, this huge hospital didn’t have lots of billing and insurance specialists. Dr. Lalonde was making calls to and being put on hold by my healthcare insurance provider himself!

It was a strange feeling being in limbo. Would I be transferred by medical transport to another hospital in Atlanta? Would I stay in Montreal for a few more days or weeks? And at this point, none of my family back in Atlanta, Chattanooga, Birmingham, Dayton or Dallas, knew I was even in the hospital! Wow!

Curt Armstrong; executive director of L’Arche Atlanta, my friend and fundraising partner over the past few years; was the first familiar face that afternoon. It was great to see him and he brought a card full of messages from the 50 L’Arche USA and Canada retreat participants that I had been a part of that week at Villa Saint-Martin in North Montreal. Curt said that during the morning small group time, the conference had shared a time of corporate reflection and prayer for me.

News of the prayer time and the messages on the card were a powerful witness to me that the Body of Christ was present and that my fellowship was not broken by my absence.

We had been scheduled to fly home to Atlanta on Thursday afternoon at the workshop’s conclusion. Curt had ridden to the airport with Nathan and canceled our flight with Delta. Curt was going to stay on for a couple of days until we had a sense of how long I’d be in the hospital and when Jenny would be able to arrive in Montreal. It was a comfort to have Curt there and I was able to shed a tear or two as I was moving out of shock and the reality of my heart attack was catching up with me.”

 

 

 

Sacred Heart Attack — Chapter 2: Wide Awake

In the previous post, I shared the beginnings of my experience as a heart attack patient in the ER of a large trauma center hospital in North Montreal, QC, Canada. You can go back and read the first four paragraphs to get the setting. Here’s what happened next.

“A young man in medical scrubs asked me to open my mouth. He, then, sprayed Nitroglycerin into my mouth to hopefully dilate my arteries. A woman pushed a needle into my arm to start an I-V. The Nitro sprayer guy asked if I was feeling any better. I said, ‘No.’

Another woman with a long needle asked if I had any allergies, wiped my belly with alcohol, then punctured the skin to quickly thin my blood. I didn’t even feel the needle.

Soon, I was rolling to the Operating Room. It was colder and I was now completely naked except for my watch, my hipster glasses and a blue HSCM I.D. bracelet #13308614. Two kind people lifted me by the sheet under me and transferred me to the O.R. table.

One nurse was shaving my groin area and my right wrist so that the doctor would have both options for doing the impending angiogram. Another lady was adding another I-V and taping the O2 monitor to my left index finger. Lying completely flat on a metal table is not comfortable, but the pain in my chest was relentless. Shortly, the Nitro sprayer guy came back with a cup with about 6 pills in it. He held my head as I swallowed them and chased the brown round pills with a small amount of water. He said that they were for the pain that I had earlier indicated was a 10 on a scale of 1-10 with 10 being, “I think I’m going to die.”

If I was trying to take a breath and see if the pills worked hoping the pain would subside, then what happened next made sure I was wide awake. A female nurse said, ‘This is going to be cold.” She then began to “paint” a slushy-like mixture of Iodine and alcohol (and ice shavings) all over my stomach, waist, groin, upper thighs and, then, my right wrist. Her warning about the cold was an understatement, but, relatively speaking, not a problem. That was followed by fabric adhering to my skin and paper being spread over most of my body.

Someone then put what looked like a clear plastic shower cap over a shoe-boxed-size white ceramic device that hovered just a few inches above my head.

Dr. Thierry Charron soon introduced himself and said that he was going to find the clot and unblock my artery. He seemed energetic, enthusiastic and eager. I thanked him and he proceeded to make a small incision on the inside of my right wrist. My wrist was clamped and bound tight to the table.

Next, I felt a tube being inserted into my arm and soon the ceramic shoe-box above my head began to move this way and that at odd angles. I began to figure that it had something to do with the artery study. This was the x-ray machine that captured photos of my arteries as dye was injected into the tube showing where the blockage was.

There was lots of talking (in French, of course) and yelling from one part of the room to the other. On my left was a multi-screen digital display and at my knee area was a small box/monitor that Dr. Charron and another physician were using.

A few days later, Dr. Charron told me that he had difficulty getting to the blockage because a couple of arteries were crossed. On his third and final attempt he was successful. Had he failed, he would’ve moved to open-heart surgery. In emergency situations with a heart attack that had been going on for a 3-4 hours, doing open-heart procedure is much more high risk and things can go wrong.

So, another aspect of the evening of January 9, 2013, for which to be thankful.

After sometime, perhaps 30-40 minutes into the procedure, the pain on my heart got worse. Even though I had told the triage nurse that pain was a ‘10’, I would now edit that to a ‘9’ and now it was a ‘10’. I wondered what was going on, but could barely speak. I began to move my head back and forth and hoped that someone would see. Right about then, Dr. Charron said that he was close to being finished. ‘It still hurts,’ I said. At that point, he was positioning the stent for expansion and for a few seconds the artery was blocked even more and under pressure.

He said that it would be better soon. I know the Holy Spirit was present more by situation than by feeling or sense. All of these caring and highly trained people were focused on one task — saving Jimmy Locklear. Surely, that is a place where the Spirit is at home.

As Dr. Charron was completing the process of unblocking the IVA that was 100% blocked, he tells me that this was a ‘big one’. He said that another artery on the right side was 70% blocked and normally he would want to put a stent in that one on Friday. Subsequently, he showed me line drawings of both arteries. At that point, it had not sunk in how serious this was. It was my only heart attack experience, so, the severity angle was hard for me to grasp since I had nothing to compare it to.

Removing the catheter tube was a bit challenging. At one point, Dr. Charron expressed frustration when he had to pull so hard and ended up making a small scratch on my wrist. It was no big deal to me, but professional pride probably was in play here. During my recovery, a couple of the nurses were surprised by the scratch that was encased in clear tape.

While still in the O.R. I could feel a lessening of the pain, but a couple of the medical staff seemed surprised when I indicated that it was still a 5 or 6 on the pain scale.

I was transferred to another gurney and a large oxygen mask was now covering my mouth and nose. A couple of folks wheeled me past Nathan and Curt on my way to the Cardiac Care Unit. I was rolled into room #9 and lifted on to the bed. That was a bit of a process to rehang bags feeding my I-V and monitors and cables that had to be secured in my new space. Curt and Nathan were allowed to come into my room for about two minutes as long as I didn’t talk. Nathan rubbed my forehead and smoothed my hair and marked the sign of the Cross on my forehead with his finger. Curt prayed for me and said that he had left a message for Jenny and he would see me tomorrow.”

A day that I will never forget was coming to a close. I was still struggling to take in what had just happened. I knew that my mind and emotions had not caught up with my physical self. There would be plenty of time for that tomorrow.

Sacred Heart Attack — Chapter 1: Winning the Lottery

Ever since surviving my heart attack on January 9, 2013, I’ve thought that my first post would have the above title. As someone who had too often thought about what it would feel like to win a lot of money and be somehow more “free” or less stressed about life, I thought that this is perhaps a similar feeling. I’ve written about 40 pages of recollections from the seven days that began on the 9th in Montreal, QC, Canada and ended with my flying home to Atlanta, GA, USA on the 15th.  I’m only going to share a couple of vignettes in this first post. Hopefully, they are as profound to you as they are to me.

“Shortly, a triage nurse motioned for me to enter her office. It seemed like she quickly assessed what was happening. I handed her my passport, insurance card and a few medicine bottles I had in a plastic bag. She asked if it was okay for Curt and Nathan (friends who had brought me to the ER at Sacred Heart Hospital of Montreal) to complete the paperwork. I said, ‘yes.’ And she said, ‘You come with me!’

We stepped into a larger area with a raised platform in front and lots of activity. Dr. Garner asked me to describe my pain and how long it had been going on. After a couple of diagnostics (EKG, PB, etc.), he asked me to get undressed and lay down on the gurney. Shortly, Dr. Garner said, ‘I’m sorry to say you are having a heart attack, probably from a blood clot. We’re going to try to find it. You should’ve come in earlier.’

I had been having chest pains pretty steadily since about 3:00 PM. It was now about 6:00 PM. I had no idea that the artery that was 100% blocked was the primary delivery artery of blood and oxygen to my body. I was experiencing Acute Anterior Wall STEMI or Anterior Myocardial Infarction that results from occlusion of the left anterior descending artery. A major heart attack. Pure and simple. Minutes mattered and I was about 3 hours into it.

I was stunned, but not really surprised at that point. What else could it be? I had tried to address occasional chest pain for a couple of days as symptoms of esophageal reflux.”

More on what happened next, in a future post…

Here’s the other vignette I wanted to share as the cardiologist who performed the angiogram and angioplasty on me that night shared a few days later.

“The hospital discharge process started late morning on Monday the 14th. My wife Jenny, son Jameson and friend Gus had arrived around 10:30 AM. Dr. Charron came by to pick up his payment in cash that Jenny had brought. I was grateful that Jenny and Jameson got to meet him. He was a late 30s high-energy guy who reminded me of musician and band leader Paul Shaffer. It was during our visit that morning that I learned of the difficulty he had reaching the blockage on Wednesday. He said that a couple of arteries were crossed and he was successful when making a final effort to reach the blockage before resorting to cutting open my chest and doing the surgery from that perspective. He said that doing open heart surgery in emergency situations like mine don’t turn out well. It was not what he wanted to do.

I became even more thankful for the mercy of God, the prayers of His people and the skill and persistence of Dr. Charron and his associates.”

We don’t often learn of the ways God and His angels have protected us or saved us. So, being made aware of our closeness to death is an awareness that makes more precious all of the people and creation around us. I think it is better than winning the lottery.

To be continued…