Troubles of the Heart, Part 5

***Note- don't start here, unless you've read the first 4 posts. Here's a link to the first part.***

The big day had finally arrived.

The alarm clock told me it was time to get up when 5:15 appeared.

We got to the hospital at 6AM. We filled out all the paperwork. I was admitted and in a hospital bed by around 6:30. My blood was drawn.

I was told my procedure was scheduled for 11 AM.

Which meant I had around 4 hours to just sit there. Rachael had brought some discourse on communicating with God that had been written in the 1600's by some monk named Brother Lawrence. She began reading to me. It was actually fairly good.

I think the person in the other bed thought we were praying or chanting or something, because I heard him tell his friends that he'd went to church yesterday to make sure everything was fine, just in case he didn't make it through the day.

I then read a portion of The Problem of Pain by C.S. Lewis. I only finished a couple of chapters but it's shaping up to be a good read. I really love C.S. Lewis. While he's most famous for his Chronicles of Narnia series, he has written some of the best apologetic works on Christianity that one could hope to read.

Before I know it, and quite a bit earlier than my scheduled 11 AM appointment with the nurse that is sure to see me naked, I'm being given Valium and Benadryl.

Things are about to get fun.

I am wheeled down to the 'operating room'. Apparently, there's been a confusion of the schedule, because they're not ready for me. But, they don't want to send me back to the 3rd floor of the hospital, so I'm wheeled over to an unused corner of the hallway, just outside the doors to the monitoring room. This room is filled with people watching monitors of what is happening in the 'operating room'.

While parked just outside the room, I hear an unusual, and somewhat disconcerting conversation.

"Yeah, we've had 2 or 3 already cancel today."

"Really! I didn't think that many people would even read the newspaper."

While this helps explain why I got in so much earlier, it does make you think. I never did figure out what they were talking about, but my Valium-affected thoughts figured there must have been a mishap with a fellow Angiogram victim in the preceding days.

But, hey, according to the law of averages, that just means mine has a better chance of going great!

While laying in the hallway with nothing but a hospital gown on, a nurse comes by. She tells me that the entire gown will have to be removed. Evidentally because hospital gowns are best-known for how well they cover you. Before I know it, I'm lying naked under a blanket that several people seem to have a need to pull up just to make sure everything's ready.

In anticipation of this moment, I made sure to shave, hoping to avoid the embarrassment of needing any help in this area.

But, as I had once before discovered when I had my vasectomy, the shaving had to be repeated.

And, of course, it's completed by a female nurse.

I'd say 'Good Times!' here, trying to be sarcastic, but I wouldn't want anyone to possibly get the wrong idea. The times we were having were anything but good.

But the best was just around the corner.

Dr. Ash Jain walked in the room. Shortly before he arrived, I was once again told what a great doctor he is. I truly am thankful that he is the one to do my procedure.

As is his manner, he gets right to work. One of the things I have grown to like and admire about him is that he gets right down to business, but seems to always explain what is going on and what I will be feeling and usually asks if I have any questions.

The only question I have at this point is how soon this will all be over.

And, of course, The BIG Question.

"Do I have buildup/plaque/blockage in my arteries?"

The deadening shot is delivered to my groin area. While this hurt a bit, it was not too bad. Next came the incision. The incision is made into the large artery you find in your groin area. Once an entrance hole is available, a catheter is pushed into the vein and then all the way up the area right below your heart.

This catheter is used as a vehicle to deliver the iodine solution dye that will then be used by the machine to look at the inside of my arteries.

As the catheter tube made its way to the bottom part of my heart, it caused my heart to beat somewhat erratically at times. I was concerned at first, but Dr. Jain told me this was completely normal.

What happened next felt anything but normal.


Dr. Jain told me that he was ready to administer the dye. This is released directly below the heart and then moves immediately into the heart and then back out. He told me that I'd feel a warm, flushing feeling in my chest.

I did indeed!

Have you ever went out sledding or playing in the snow and spent so long there that your body was chilled all over? You have breathed so much ice-cold air, that it feels like your insides are frozen?

And then you take a drink of steaming hot chocolate? You know how you can feel it burn all the way down?

Well, multiply that feeling so that you are picturing it happening to your entire chest, and that's kind of what this felt like. Kind of, but not exact.

The warm sensation comes on fast, from the bottom of your heart, into the heart, and then out again. It is actually over quite quickly, but is quite the experience while it is happening.

Dr. Jain begins to take pictures. I can actually see the inside of a portion of my artery on the monitor. It looks good to me, but this is the first time I've ever seen the inside of an artery, so I don't have much of a baseline.

I do see some little squiggly piece of something going crazy inside of me. I'm trying to figure out what it is when I hear the best words I've heart in a long time.

"There's no blockage. Your arteries are completely clear. The only thing we'll have to work on from here out is just the electrical system in your heart."

I don't think I quite realized how much I'd been stressing about this, until I knew everything was OK. Rachael was brought in, and she said that she had not seen my face look so free from worry for a couple of months now.

I was thrilled.

I spent the next few hours in my hospital bed. They have to ensure you will not start bleeding through the incision as you could bleed to death fairly quickly since it's in such a large artery.

I was discharged around 3 PM and got home that evening. I spent that night and the next day with my leg in a straight position as much as possible.

I went back to see Dr. Jain for a follow-up appointment August 26th. After looking at everything, he once again assured me that all was well. He said I could go back to normal activities and that he didn't need to see me for another 3 months, and that was just for a routing follow-up visit.

And so ends my Troubles of the Heart. I praise God for His watch-care, your thoughts and prayers, and for putting me in the hands of a very capable doctor!

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Troubles of the Heart, Part 4

In the previous 3 posts, I described my heart arrhythmia, my hospital stay, Rachael's kung-fu prowess, and some amazing friends. If you haven't read those posts, you'll want to start on part 1 and work your way here.

After getting out of the hospital and spending Father's Day at Denny's with my wonderful friends, I thought many times in the next few weeks about what incredible friends I truly do have.

Meanwhile, my follow-up appointment was getting ever closer. Doctor Ash Jain had scheduled me to come in and take an echo-cardiogram, stress test, EKG. Kind of a 3 for 1 package. While we knew I had some issues with the electrical system in my heart, Dr. Jain wanted to be sure there were no other problems.

After some nervous anticipation, the big day arrived.

I was a little concerned, and not just about the results. I was also afraid I'd have to take my shirt off in public.

One should always remember to just check their modesty in at the door when visiting the doctor. I try to do that, but normally fail.

I should mention that I am not a guy that feels comfortable walking around with no shirt on. I'm one of those weirdos that even wears their shirt while swimming. This has been true ever since I gained more weight than I am comfortable displaying sans shirt. I don't think anyone other than my immediate family has seen me without a shirt in the last 5-10 years, or so.

Until this day.

The nurse comes in and tells me I'll need to take off my outer shirt and T-shirt. I was halfway expecting this, but still was not happy.

I became less so very shortly.

The nurse came in and told me we needed to go into another office. I guess they keep rooms segregated according to purpose, I don't know. Here we have the disrobing room, that one is the Waiting Nervously for Results Room, here's the Questions for the Doctor Room, and that room on the end with the padlock across it is the You Might Get To Regain Some of Your Pride and Dignity Room. Judging by the padlock, it didn't look like many people entered that one.

We were apparently going to leave The Disrobing Room, in search of The Treadmill Room.

She opens the door to an open (and empty) hallway. So far, so good. I'm thinking we're just going to sneak in unnoticed into one of the doors leading off of this hallway, the one right before the one with the padlocks.

Not a chance.

She leads me clear down the hallway. "Oh, hi there good-looking nurse. I'm sure glad you're the first one to see my bare belly."

I think when you see someone that has obviously attempted to stay in shape, it makes you even more conscious of your own lack of doing so.

We continue down the hallway. Before I know it, we are walking through the backside of the waiting room where approximately 2000 people are sitting. I am pretty sure every one of them stood up just to get a better view of the bare belly walking through the back of the office.

We then go out into a PUBLIC hallway that connects this office with another one. I'm still walking with no shirt on. I walk by many people. Many being defined by at least 4. We finally get to The Treadmill Room and I try to duck in as soon as I can, only to be confronted with the fact that I am now alone in the room, with my shirt off, with 3 women. Not one. Not two. Three.

Ahh, but it gets better.

The reason there are three women in the room is because one has to monitor the equipment. Typically, the other nurse attaches the electrodes to approximately 48 locations on your chest and belly. Not today.

Today, (lucky me) the 3rd nurse is in training. What this means to me is that she puts one on wrong, the other nurse has to look at it, it has to be pulled off, and then redone. Additionally, when the Nurse-In-Training is completely finished, the training nurse has to step over and they both scrutinize every square inch of my upper body. Oh, the joy!

It's finally time to get on the treadmill. Weirdly enough, I'm actually looking forward to it, just so I won't be under such close scrutiny.

I ask if I can wear my shirt while on the treadmill.

Stupid question.

I begin.

Within about 30 seconds the nurse over on the equipment makes her first observation. While she says this in a totally detached nurse voice, it still doesn't make me feel better.

"Guess you don't work out much, huh?"

"No, I have to sit behind a desk all day, and only have time to walk about a half hour each night after work."

"Yeah, well you really should make it a point to find a way to work out more."

I tried to answer, but by this time I was breathing so hard I couldn't talk much more if I even wanted to hope to persevere on the test.

The treadmill I was on would increase the incline and the speed every minute or so. Within no time, I was jogging.

Until the nurse on the controls came over and told me that I really didn't need to jog, as it was still on walking speed.

"Oh."

About this time, I could see the other two nurses talking quietly. I'm not sure, but I think they were making bets concerning whether my heart or lungs would explode first.

The nurse on the gadgets saved either of them from having to pay up. By this time, my heart rate was around 130 or so and my blood pressure was over 200.

She told me I could go lay down on the bed.

Now, when you get an echo-cardiogram EKG stress test, you are being monitored the entire time, while exercising. However, as soon as you're done exercising, they want to use the echo-cardiogram machine to look at pictures of your heart, kind of like an ultra-sound for a pregnant lady.

To accomplish this, you have to run from the treadmill to the bed.

I did as requested.

She looked at my heart rhythms and told me that my heart was beating irregularly again. However, she said that is not too unusual with the exercise I'd just completed. I told her about the irregular beating that had originally brought me in and how I'd went 28 hours in that condition before it converted back to a normal pattern.

"Well, you were lucky. Most people that happens to never convert."

"Really? What do they do?"

"We can usually give them medication to keep their heart rate down, but they learn to live with it, many of them for the rest of their life."

I thought that was the bad news.

Fortunately, my heart began beating normally again. I received the even worse news after I got dressed and went down to talk to my Doctor, who'd already had a chance to look at the results and was in The Waiting Nervously For Results Room.

"We've got a potential problem here. The one test came out fine, but the one that's typically the most reliable shows evidence that you may have blockage in your arteries. I'm going to have to schedule you an angiogram."

"That sounds like fun."

"It is, but we have to do it."

In all honesty, I had no idea what an angiogram was. I knew 'angio' had to do with the heart, and 'gram' had to do with conveying a message (like telegram), so I figured it would be something that they used to take a picture of my heart.

It was.

But it was a little more involved than I originally thought it would be.

For the fifth, (and I believe the final) post on this, be sure to check back tomorrow.

Troubles of the Heart, Part 3

If you have not yet read parts 1 and 2, please do so now.

After being forced to substitute the attention of the heart monitor for that of Rachael, I slept fitfully at best. Several times during the night, I'd wake up with my heart tapping me awake. Or at least that's how it felt. I could physically feel it beating wildly inside my chest every time it went into arrhythmia. At times, it felt like it would explode.

I found out that the reason I'd felt light-headed during these times was that the heart was beating so fast, it was forced to beat shallow beats. Therefore, the blood was never carrying enough oxygen to the body and brain and without enough oxygen, the brain decides to take a nap. Fortunately, I had not actually passed out, especially while driving.

When I awoke, I felt like I had not had hardly any sleep at all. However, I was greeted with the best news of the last couple of days!

My heart had regained a normal rhythm.

Whether due to the medication, lots of prayers, the body's natural desire to stay true to what's 'right', or a combination of the three, my heart was now beating a normal beat. While walking to the beat of a different drum is cool for teenagers and rock stars, I was very happy to be back to 'normal'.

It was the best Father's Day present I could hope for. Although a close second was when I saw my kids a few hours later.

Rachael showed up at the hospital bearing gifts, kids, cards, and a story. It's one of those stories, like many on My Poor Husband, that are much funnier in the retelling, than they ever are the first time you hear them.

Apparently, Rachael's emotions were a bit on edge, as can be expected. That morning, Rebecca was taking a bath at the Best Western just down the street, on the corner of Mowry and I-880. Rebecca has a habit of dipping her head completely under the water. It's just something she likes to do.

It normally does not cause any problems.

That morning was not normal.

Rachael was on edge.

Rachael was trying to get Rebecca's attention. She went to talk to her. The door was locked. She called out Rebecca's name.

Again.

And Again.

At this point, as I understand it, Rachael decided to test out her incredibly honed martial arts skills.

"Wax on! Wax off!"

Only this was not going to be a harmless wax job.

Rachael, running on pure adrenaline, put all of her weight into a Super-Kick. The kind that you see in the movies where the door flies open fast enough to knock the person down that's on the other side of the door.

Either Rachael did not read the same script the actors do, or she failed her karate lessons, because when she kicked the door with all of her might, nothing positive happened.

I say nothing positive, because while she did not help herself gain entrance, she did succeed in putting a hole in the door.

At this point, even with your head underwater, you can feel the vibrations of the room shaking. Rachael said that she heard Rebecca raise her head from the water and say in her innocent 9-year old sweet voice, "What Mom?"

She had no idea what had been going on.

But she was all right. That was the main thing.

Of course, later on, the Best Western felt that the main thing was that they got paid $140 for the door that probably cost them $50 to replace.

I found all of this out Father's Day morning, the day my heart returned to normal.

Fortunately, it did not cause my heart to go back into arrhythmia.

Rachael and the kids all came to see me. The kids had all written me notes on cards and they brought me a great Father's Day gift.

By this time, my other good friend Bryan was there. The doctor told me I'd probably be getting out around noon, so we all decided to go to Denny's for a nice Father's Day lunch.

My doctor scheduled a follow-up appointment for an echo-cardiogram, stress test, EKG. While I knew the test was sure to be fun, I had no idea what it would lead to. For that, you'll have to check out the next post.

One of the things that really hit home to me was the fact that I have a great family and great friends, and I will be eternally grateful for both. Mike and Maria and Bryan all came down from somewhere between Sacramento and Chico to be with me in my time of need. My other friend, James had also left Sacramento and was on his way when I was discharged.

On Father's Day.

With no notice.

I've heard it said that a man can consider himself fortunate if he finds one true friend in his entire lifetime. My blessing basket is truly over-flowing.

I am grateful.

Troubles of the Heart, Part 2

If you have not read the first post, please do so before you read this one.


I had just broken the Indy 500 speed record for the fastest time ever to be placed in an Emergency Room bed after walking in off the street.

I was just starting to realize that I may have bigger problems today than whether or not I'll make it to my nephews graduation on time.

Meanwhile, my heart continues to merrily beat along in a pounding, indiscernible rhythm.

Eventually, a doctor came by and said we were waiting on some of the blood test results, and that we'd hopefully know something after I'm admitted.

The only good thing about this is that my Emergency Room visit requires less of a co-pay if I'm admitted to the hospital.

At the time, though, I didn't even think about that. I was beginning to get the idea that this was turning into, if not a BIG deal, something more than unimportant.

Soon, I was hearing words like, 'this afternoon', 'tonight', and eventually 'overnight'. While these are great words when you're making plans for a weekend with your wife, they are less than encouraging when referencing your visit at the hospital. I called Rachael and told her that I would probably not be coming home right away, and that I may have to stay overnight. I also asked her if she could work out arrangements to get my sister picked up from the graduation, as it looked like I would be incapacitated.

Rachael took care of everything. One of the things I love and appreciate most about Life With Rachael is the incredible love and devotion she has and shows. Through this all, she was my favorite nurse.

After awhile, someone came by and asked for my insurance card and had me sign all the necessary paperwork.

Shortly after, I was admitted and transferred to my own room. Or, more precisely, my own 1/2 of a room, roughly a 6 foot by 10 foot rectangle of space that is just large enough for 1/2 of a single bed, a chair, and a curtain that is difficult to close without draping it around the chair, equipment, and visitors if you have them.

After receiving my own room, I was soon hooked up to the big vital-sign-monitoring machine, as well as to a portable machine that allowed me to see my heart rate and look at the chart showing the rhythmic patterns my heart was producing. Or, in my case, the arrhythmias my heart was producing. While this was somewhat fascinating, I was staring face to face with a little screen telling me that all was not OK.

My normal heart rate is quite slow. Has been all of my life. At rest, my heart rate varies from about 48-52 beats per minute. If I walk in off the street and sit down at Long's Drugs' heart machine, it will only be around 58-62 beats a minute.

It was now beating 80-90 beats per minute. When I was completely still. When I so much as cleared my throat, or repositioned my leg, the rate shot up to 120+ per minute.

I got up to use the restroom.

I walked the 10 feet or so to the restroom that was in my room.

My heart rate was between 180 and 190 beats per minute.

Not good.

In addition to the fast pace of the heart was the fact that it was beating in its very strange anti-rhythms.

In addition to this, it would go into an actual arrhythmia every few minutes. I knew when this happened because I could feel my heart beating madly in my chest. And my monitor would say 'Arrhythmia in progress'. When it went into arrhythmia, it would go up from its now 'normal' 80 to 90 beats per minute to anywhere from 100-150 beats per minute, hover there for a minute or so, then go back to 80 or 90 beats per minute. All while I am laying perfectly still, expending no energy or movement.

After watching this several times, I got pretty good at predicting the number of beats per minute (bpm) each arrhythmia achieved.

By this time, my dad, my sister, and Rachael were there and I'd have them look at the screen while I tried to guess the bpm. I actually got pretty good at it. While I can't say it was fun, it provided some release from an otherwise difficult situation.

My heart was beating so quickly and so wildly that the vital-sign machine I was hooked up to would scream at the nurses every few seconds/minutes. This went on for a bit, and apparently there was only one solution to provide the room with some peace and quiet.

They shut off the alarms.


I soon met my heart doctor, Doctor Ash Jain. Little did I know it at the time, but it turns out that Doctor Jain is one of the best heart doctors around. I know this because every nurse or orderly that asked me who my doctor was always responded with, "Well, you're in good hands. He's the best there is!"

This happened so many times, I began to get suspicious. I figured it may be part of a new PR campaign of Washington hospital:

"OK, so every time you go into a patients room, be sure to ask them their doctor's name. When they tell you, try to remember it long enough to say, 'Oh, Wow! Doctor _________ is the best! You're in great hands'. Be sure to look genuine when you say this."

This suspicion was proven false by two means:
1. I asked them. When they told me that Dr. Jain was the best, I said, "Yeah, but I bet you say that to all the patients." They assured me that this was not true and they said it sincerely enough that I was pretty sure they were being honest with me.
2.I actually listened when the same nurses asked other patients who their doctors were. These other patients were not told the same thing I had been.

So, as it turns out, I really was in great hands. Dr. Jain is apparently one of the best at what he does. I am supremely thankful for this. I am thankful to him for doing what it took to be the best, and I am thankful to God for putting me in the right place at the right time to fall under his care.

Doctor Jain told me that I would definitely be staying the night and that I'd be on some medication to hopefully help my heart convert back to a normal rhythm. I asked him what we were going to do if it did not. He told me we'd see what happens, but for now, he wanted to try this.

By this time, in addition to my dad and Rachael, my good friends Mike and Maria and their son Brandon, were there as well. Maria had taken the time to scout out a hotel and had offered to take our kids there so that Rachael could stay the night with me, if she wanted.

This sounded like a great plan. The nurse said it would be fine.

We settled in for the night.

Unfortunately, the security guard and the head nurse had other ideas. Apparently, the head nurse was one of those people that loves to use (and abuse) the power they have. Instead of trying to find a way to help people, people like her seem to actually take pleasure out of telling people no.

I actually teach customer service classes at my work. I understand that you sometimes have to say 'no' to a customer. But you should never take joy in it. You should truly empathize with the customer and share their disappointment with them, if need be. You should not feel like a bigger man (or woman) based on how many people you were able to enforce the rules with.

After a couple of run-ins with the said security guard and an argument with the head-nurse, whose decision was apparently the final word for the security guard, Rachael was eventually banished into the cold, dark night, leaving me to spend the time alone with my arrhythmic-displaying heart monitor. While caressing my heart monitor was quite comforting, it did not really compare with having Rachael there with me.

Little did I know that Rachael was going to have her own fear-filled adventure, quite apart from the one I was having. I found out all about it the next day.

Come back again for the next section in Troubles of the Heart.