Alternately titled:  MY LIFE CHANGES FOREVER PT 2

You’ve had a heart attack.

You.  Not you.  Me.  I’ve.

I’ve had a heart attack.

What.the.fuck.

And then the whirlwind hits.  A new doc comes in.  Cardiologist.  My flushed face and sweating body take in the words best as they can.  I feel like it’s a million degrees all the sudden.  They are going to take me up to the Cath Lab.  They are going to put dye in my blood.  They are probably going to have to put a stent in my artery (or arteries).  There’s a 1% chance I might die during the procedure.

One percent sounds like a really safe procedure until it’s in relation to your personal life.  Then you realize that out of every 100 people who have this done, one will die.  When was the last one?  What are the factors that determine this?  How is this happening to me?  Am I the one?

I realize I’m not going home any time soon.  I start texting my girlfriend at 12:58.  I manage to get out ‘Beb.  I’ve been in the er all day.  Thought I was getting out soon but it looks like I’ll be here a while.  They think I had a heart attack this morning.  I feel fine but they’re going to run more tests.’  By the time I send my dad’s cell # to her at 12:59 I have to throw my phone to my sister because a duo of nurses are pushing my bed out of the ER room.  I feel like a total jackass.  I think about how shitty it would be to get that text with zero notice.

To be fair, I thought I was going home at one.

The two nurses push their captive through hallways and elevators.  At this point I’m shaking pretty bad.  I try to level myself with controlled breathing but it only reduces my terror by a small amount.  To be perfectly honest this is the scariest thing I’ve experienced to date.

More halls.  More twists and turns.  The nurses are telling me I’m doing really well.  ‘Really well compared to what?’ I want to scream.  What choice do I have but to do ‘really well’?  My god.  I want off this ride, like, now.  After what seems like miles we get to the Cath Lab.  They wheel me in and I help them scoot me onto some sci-fi looking torture device table-metal hand grip included.  At this point I’m essentially movable cargo.  The cardio is telling me they’re going to try to go in through my wrist but may not be able to.  In that case they have to go through the groin, which will render me unable to sit up for a week or so.  With that gem of information passed, one of the nurses quickly shaves my wrist and then does the same to the right half of my crotch (which looks super sexy when I’m in recovery-oh, spoiler alert..I survived).

The cardio doc, who is a rock star, by the way, lays it out again for me.  They’re going to give me a benzo to calm me down.  Then they’re going to do the dye.  Then, god willing (or not) the stent.  He assures me I’m going to make it through and that if it isn’t something a stent will fix he will do everything he needs to make sure they figure out what’s going on.  He tells me I will feel one more thing; a quick sting on my wrist.  He’s not entirely correct.

The sting comes, and then the benzos.  They help for about half the procedure.  I ask for more when they stop but at that point there’s nothing the team working on me can do.

The room is full-on sci-fi.  There are bulbs on the ceiling with beautiful coated lenses and what appear to be mirrors and ..lights?  I dunno.  I’m laying on a body shaped board, gripping a metal handhold.  There is a robotic thing that twists and turns and pulses over me, stopping at times while the wizards work their magic, and then moving again to allow new visibility.  Like I mentioned, I’m essentially out of the equation at this point.  The team of two doctors, two nurses and, I believe, one tech work like a precision machine.  Chatter is kept to an absolute minimum.  Small phrases emerge and response is immediate.  Doc leans in and tells me there’s a clot.  They can fix this.  They are fixing this right now.

And then comes the weirdest sensation of my life.

The stent has to make it to the arteries in/around my heart via my wrist.  This means a long twisting journey up and around my tubes.  And I can feel.every.millimeter of movement.  Occasionally it feels like the tube is ribbed…it pushes and sticks and pushes and sticks.  It twists and turns and snakes.  And holy shit.  It burns like no other.

Doc tells me I may feel a recurrence of the pain that brought me in as they get to the stent part.  I brace myself.  And then, I feel a horrible slippery sensation in my arm, and he leans in to tell me they’re done.  I’ve survived the procedure.  There are two more small arteries with minor blockage but he doesn’t believe they’re anything exercise and diet can’t clear up.  ‘And if we need to we’ll throw a few more stents in there’.

‘Also, you’ll be on blood thinners and aspirin for the rest of your life’.

However long that may be.

The nurses wheel me to a recovery room where I get a new nurse, who looks a little like Christina Ricci before she got alien skinny.  Same mischevious half-smile.  She gets me all set up and tells me I have to stay there for an hour or so before I get the ‘nice’ room.  At this point I feel strangely great.  Like, with the removal of the blockage I might be a new person.  Another doc comes in.  ‘Oh, you also have severe diabetes’.  Walks out.

I move upstairs to what will become my home for the next few days.  More doctors and nurses come in.  I had a full artery blockage that caused a heart attack.  Fortunately there is little to no permanent damage.  I have type II diabetes.  The A1C shows that my glucose has been extremely high for at least the last 90 days, as far back as they can test.  My blood pressure is high.  My pulse-rate is high.  My cholesterol is high-normal.

Essentially my body nuked itself.  They believe this is primarily genetic.  As I mentioned earlier, I’m fairly active and eat pretty well.

I get released a few days later.  As I walk in my room the cat jumps on my bed and starts purring.  She never jumps on my bed.  She still sits outside my door pretty constantly.  My little sentinel.

The terms of my release are, I carry nitro pills with me at all times.  I go low fat, low sodium, diabetic friendly diet. I get two pills a day for diabetes, one for cholesterol, a blood thinner, aspirin, a beta blocker, and another heart-friendly pill that should aid recovery.  I go to cardiac rehab and am given a workout regimen.

And then two days ago, the cardio and the PT peeps give me, essentially the all clear.  The meds are working.  The numbers look good.  The damage is little to none.  I have to keep the pills and the diet, but I can resume life as otherwise normal.

I’m still alive.  The last two days my blood sugar has remained in the ‘healthy’ range.  I’ve been working out again.

The forever changes are frustrating and I try hard to not let them get to me but, for the most part, I’m feeling better than when I went in.  Almost…normal, where most of my life I’ve felt tense and uncomfortable.  It’s very strange, but definitely not bad.  

Not bad at all, considering how it could’ve turned out.