Heart Attack Bypass Recovery – Page 2

blessings in disguise

teacup The longer I live, the more I am amazed at the Hand of Providence in my life and in the lives of our children and. in. my. husband’s. life. I’m sobered, humbled and stand in awe of the marvelous grace of God and His immeasurable kindness.

You know, I’m so thankful for the difficult times – for it’s not in the seemingly ‘easy’ times we see (or seek) God so readily or clearly as in the darker, more uncertain, times. The sweet thing about learning this is that when suddenly faced with calamity or trials it’s easier to see a testing of faith. I guess testings of faith are things we tend to want to avoid, but they’re the very things we will later see as sweet blessings — times we’ll later recall as ‘the best thing that ever happened to me’ sort of experiences. Blessings in disguise — that’s what most trials are.

Last Friday morning we had planned to head to the Oregon Coast for the annual Shield of Faith family conference at Twin Rocks. Thanks to our Hannah, plans were well underway; the van washed and vacuumed, filled with fuel and other necessary items for the eagerly anticipated long drive early the next morning. Our house was ship shape, top to bottom — everything neatly in place, the van completely packed and ready to go. Some sleeping in their ‘trip clothes,’ the children tucked all snug in their beds while visions of good friends, good food, singing, Bible teaching and beach play danced in their heads. We all snuggled into bed…

As we sat in the emergency room last Thursday night, I was consciously aware that the LORD had allowed the current ‘trail of my faith.’ It was one of those: ‘I’ve been this way before’ sort of moments and in those, ‘I’ve been this way before’ moments, because I saw the Hand of the LORD in the past, it’s easier to see His Hand in the present. I think if we miss seeing the Hand of the LORD in trials — or don’t acknowledge His presence, then it’s likely we’ll miss seeing or acknowledging Him in whatever trials we face — past or present.

Wes had been experiencing pain in his shoulder and chest and so we went to the ER and once there, we learned that ER visits by patients with cardiac history are treated very seriously (Only now do I fully understand that phrase: “serious as a heart attack.” My daddy used to say that when someone would ask him: …are you serious? and he’d reply: “serious as a heart attack.” ). Once in ER, Wes was quickly set up in a room, hooked up to monitors and the first of many tests were performed. It was apparent to both of us that he hadn’t had another heart attack — but still, the source of the pain was not known. Probably not quite as concerned as those administering the prompt and thorough medical attention, we were still concerned enough to have gone there. The tests that would be performed through the night and the next afternoon were tests that would give answers to questions we have had for several months: how do we know if the stents are functioning properly? how do we know if the meds are ‘working’ and how do we know the actual condition of his heart?

In addition to an ECG, blood tests and constant monitoring, the Cardiologist ordered a myocardial perfusion scan that gave very clear pictures of the condition of his heart — both at rest and maximum stress. This test, because of the lengthy imaging process, took a couple of hours — but it was in that time period that the LORD demonstrated His lovingkindess so sweetly to me. I was sitting in a waiting area and Wes’s ♥ Cardiologist walked by and exclaimed to me, “Well, yours is an unexpected face for me to see here today! How is Wes?” I told her he was down in nuclear medicine getting having that test done and she told me she’d be right back. Interestingly, providentially, coincidentally ( the Lord meeting us where we’re at = the vertical meeting the horizontal +_ ) she was there making rounds for her current patients and said she wouldn’t ordinarily have been there at that time. When she returned, she assured me that everything looked good — there were some final tests to do and then he’d be free to go home.

How gracious of the LORD to have her there that day, to have her recognize me as she was passing by. The Cardiologist that was treating him all day was happy to defer to Dr. Chung. What an amazing Doctor she is… I have such great respect and love for her and thank the LORD for her professional skill – for her care and concern. The reports continued to come back and the results brought more delight to me us! No heart damage. Low BP. Low cholesterol… make that: Low, low cholesterol. His heart looks great, blood flow is great and stamina is great. The doc said to Wes, “Keep doing whatever you’re doing… this is good news.” I knew it was only bcz of The Good News.

It was getting late in the day and I knew all the children were anxious as anything to get going to the coast, but their concern and patience was so endearing as they repeatedly told me not to worry about a thing. It was now 12 hours past the time we had planned to leave. Wes was moved to another room where he continued to receive excellent care and monitoring. The time was ticking away. I thanked the LORD for the ‘inconvenience’ and for His great provision. When does anyone have time to go to the hospital, anyway? ;o)

Finally home again that evening, the faces that greeted us at the car never looked sweeter, and to Wes, I’m sure the shower never felt better… I know I never loved him more. Soon we were on our way. Skipping a few beats, the song was playing on. Everyone glad for papa’s health, glad to be going no matter what the hour, glad for the day…

One thing about driving through Seattle and then on through Tacoma and Olympia to Kelso and then over to the coast at night: traffic? what traffic? I could count on one hand the cars I saw in an hour. I thanked the LORD for His provision His protection and blessings… driving on very little sleep, I was singing all the way as everyone was sleeping… I had too much to sing about and it was, after all, the long anticipated trip! Every little while I would glance over to my precious husband… resting and looking so great. ♥ It had been a great day.

Blessings… many blessings in disguise.

About that lingering conversation?

Well… about that lingering conversation, I thought I’d add a few lines.

I know there will come a time when I stop writing about our current “lingering conversation.” I know we’ll likely move on to other things. But I write about them — and whatever else I write about — for lots of different reasons. Mostly, I just don’t want to forget – and I know I will forget some of the small details of these days. Blogging’s sort of therapeutic for me. I don’t want to forget what God’s taught me, how He’s worked in these days, what’s going on and what I think of it all these days. I blog so that I will have a place to recall… I blog so that maybe someone else will be encouraged with things that have encouraged me. There’s a risk involved in sharing the personal details of life and I know that. There’s probably as much a risk of being understood as being misunderstood. There’s a risk to being transparent, but this is who I am… and this where I share slices of my life, and maybe something I write might help someone else too. So… I blog.

Wes had an appointment with the cardiologist today. It’s been a few weeks since we saw her and so we went through a time of sort of dialogging questions and answers. She gave Wes strong assurances that he could go back to normal work and any activities… even training for a marathon. We glanced at one another and smiled.

True story: On the way to the doc’s office, Wes said he wanted to ask what he would be free to do, what are his limitations, etc. and then said, ” It’s not like I am going to train for a marathon or anything like that… I just want to be able to do whatever the day requires.” ~smile~

So she answered Wes’s questions and gave strong rationale for the prescribing of each of the meds he is taking. And even humoured him when he questioned the validity of some of the rationales for the meds. But he agreed to take them – and to continue taking them. What was interesting to me was her favourable comments regarding some of the things he had begun taking (fish oil, green food, red yeast rice) and in particular: red yeast rice. She said there were many studies showing very favourable results from taking red yeast rice. And she went on to share some benefits. (Our sincere thanks to Kelli for her studying up on heart stuff – and more – for us!)

I had suggested to Wes that he not eat b’fast just in case they wanted to do some tests. When he was told they’d need some lab work, they asked if he had eaten yet today. O, so glad he hadn’t! He hasn’t gotten the lab results from the ekg or blood work but it seems quite certain that had there been a problem he’d have heard about it.

So we left the office… with sort of glad sense of relief… sort of with a sense of new resolve: now we go on. We needed this – or we needed what we’ve learned from this. And it’s one of those bittersweets… you know, one of those things you come to terms with and as the doctor said this morning, it’s a time of mourning the loss of “where you thought you were and what you thought you had.”

I’ve gotten to the place where I am thankful… and I can see I needed these lessons. I very much needed them. It was as if I was given a gift that day in the hospital as I waited for him in surgery. I remember sitting in a waiting room in that same hospital ten years ago when Wes cut up his hand in a skilsaw and underwent several hours of reconstructive surgery… I remember the lessons learned at that time and how God demonstrated His merciful lovingkindness and abundant provision for me/us.

Well… so now I needed to learn new lessons… not lessons so much about God’s faithful provision and physical restoration and His protection of my husband as I needed to meet his mortality. Now I may well still go before he does, but I needed to come to grips with the fact there will be an end. And I needed to affirm that I know that I know that I know God is sovereign. I knew it… I’ve known it… but I needed to know it in this matter of love and life and my love’s life. I needed to come to grips with the fact that God’s way in the life and eventual death of my husband is perfect.

I will praise thee, O LORD,
with my whole heart;
I will shew forth all thy marvellous works.
psalm 9.1

Words…

teacup You know how you hear words over and over and they are so common you don’t even really stop to consider their profound meaning? I mean, I recall for many years my mother in law or my father in law would comment about their cardiologist or my mom mentioned her surgeon or my dad mentioned his oncologist… words. Merely common words.

I was talking on the telephone last evening with a friend of mine… the friend whose husband just died and she was asking me for the specifics of what has happened around here this week. So I sort of rattled off statements that were interspersed with old vocabulary words that have now become part of my every day speech. She said… wait, can you believe you said, “Wes’s cardiologist?” And I laughed. It was nervous laughter that became this morning’s tears. I was hugging my husband, my head resting on his heart, and I cried at the events of the week. There’s time for crying now. There’s no time for tears when the activities call for action and attention. There’s no time for crying when the responsibilities call for attention and clear thought. But this morning called for neither—nothing but hugs and praise. And the words that have been so easily rolling off my tongue sort of all got caught in my throat today and my mind was sort of in a blur and I gasped as I realized: what the heck? my *husband* has a cardiologist?

I have this little shelf beside my sink above the bathroom counter. It’s become my habit every night to set my glasses on the shelf, to put my bracelet on the hook and my hair clips next to my glasses. That little shelf is now lined with bottles… not pretty perfume bottles, but amber coloured bottles with with my husband’s name and… c-a-r-d-i-o-l-o-g-i-s-t-‘s name on them. More words. As probable as it was for my husband to travel this path and hit this part of the road, I was completely unprepared for personal use of words that I was fairly accustomed to hearing… in other’s lives. Other husband’s lives. Other’s homes.

My husband(!) carries nitroglycerin now. Nitro’s… you know, little pills old people carry with them to relieve the symptoms of angina. Angina!?! When did that word become part of my husband’s lingo? It’s so bizarre to even consider let alone realize that we’ve entered the world of statins, ACE inhibitors, Beta blockers, blood thinners; the segment of the population for whom all sorts of acronyms and initials describe their own personal medical conditions and history. MI and CA stents now appear on my husband’s medical records and that he now carries a card in his wallet that has a bar code on it… id-ing him as a cardiology patient – a card that can be referenced the next time… I blink. The next time?

Those words… myocardial infarction… still ring in my ears. I still marvel that I sat in that waiting room and talked with the doctor and answered his questions. How long had my husband had heart disease? A myocardial infarct was his first sign. For too many people those words are their first sign of heart disease, too.

How I praise the Lord I was able to talk with the cardiologist after the successful procedure was completed. I sobered up real fast when he said that if Wes hadn’t come in when he did and hadn’t begun that heparin and nitroglycerin that he may well have suffered a massive heart attack and the outcome might not have been favourable. I read just today of yet another man whose first sign of cardiovascular disease was a fatal MI.

The warning signs were all around. We read them… the were common words. Those words became sirens… we’re so listening now.

The Heart of Her Husband…

Safely trusts in her…

I ponder this verse over and over. The heart of my husband safely trusts in me. Safely trusts. His heart safely trusts. In me. Wow… this has been on my mind and in my teaching for years. I have always focused on what I considered to be heart issues. And if/when things seemed out of balance, I have gone back to the heart issues… am I ministering to him, to his needs, to his well being and comfort. Am I trustworthy, have I been faithful, am I attentive to the cares and concerns of his life? Am I listening to him? Do I *hear* what he is saying? Am I sexually attentive and interested in him and do I make sure he knows it? Does he know I think he’s totally “all that!“? Does he have my attention and admiration? Do I split loyalties? Am I behind his back what I am to his face? Does he know I’m not looking around? Am I concerned with his plans and do I pay attention to his conversations? These have all been key factors or key components of what I consider to be a faithful wife—these are things that have been key to me all these years—it’s been of paramount importance that my husband’s heart safely trusts in me. I love him.

All these years I have been practically and literally loving him to death.

Sobering.

I love to cook; and I can make great awful food. And I have, all these years.

I know that it might seem I’m making too much over this weeks turn of events or am attempting to shoulder all the responsibility for the food my husband has swallowed. I know I have been making stuff he likes. And lots of it. And all along the way I’ve also made some great things that have been very, very good for him. This isn’t a total guilt trip. He’s made some changes in recent years and some radical changes in recent months. So I know that his eating – our eating is sort of a shared responsibility. I know I didn’t make all the donuts and didn’t pour all the coffee and didn’t stack the hamburgers or salt the fries. And I know I wasn’t the one to make the firm decision some months back to eliminate those foods from his diet. But I also know that I know how to make a heart stopping cinnamon roll. I know how to make heart stopping lasagne and stroganoff. Great salads have accompanied all those meals. Lots of vegetables accompanied those meals. Lots of butter, too. I know how to add just the right amount of salt and fat to make even a purist want another bite. This is not bragging. I’m not altogether proud of this today. But I’m not going to jump off the bridge over it, though, either. But I am waking up.

Eight years ago this morning, my father didn’t. A million pounds of butter, thousands of gallons of cream, tons of steak and buckets of sugar paved the road to heaven for him. I thought about that a lot at that time. I cried over the many years I didn’t know him. I cried over the things I didn’t learn from him (and maybe that’s for the better ~wink~). Even made some major changes in my eating habits at that time. And then some months passed. And then some years passed… I perfected some more to-die-~~over~~-for meals. And here I am this morning… knowing that I have played an integral part in my husband’s overall health (and/or lack thereof). I picked up the groceries and turned them into meals and desserts. I knew what he loved and made sure to serve it to him. And joined him.

The party’s not over… we’ve just got to change the venue a bit for both of us. Quite a bit. I don’t really know specifically and exactly what I’ll do… or what I won’t do, but I’m making some practical changes;

The heart of my husband (trusts in me) depends on it. I love him. I love his heart. I want to be around to show him that.

Cholesterol Awareness…

Did you know that September is “Cholesterol Awareness Month”? O, yeah, I’m aware!

The service mark for the American Heart Association is: Learn and Live. I mull this over. I’m mulling over a lot of things lately. You know I realized tonight that I never thought my husband could/would/might die. Really… ever. I’m fairly sure I’ve been thinking it would be me to go first – still probably will be, by the way, though I’ve known there was a very strong possibility that my husband would have a heart attack or stroke or both. In fact, if he followed family health patterns, a heart attack was absolutely, positively guaranteed to happen. It happened.

Since heart disease is common on both sides of both of our families, it was actually quite foolish for me to continue cooking and serving in the manner I have for the last nearly 30 years. I’m troubled tonight by the fact that I have been pretty cavalier about health and food preparation and serving. O, I’ve been working at many healthful choices… but that really doesn’t mean much when there are an equal number of very unhealthy choices made, prepared and presented every day. I’ll write more on this another time.

There’s nothing like a brush with something to force action. It doesn’t matter what it is, when you have a brush with something, you act – or react. You get stopped by an officer for speeding — and if you only get a warning, in the future you watch your driving around officers. If you get a ticket, you watch your driving around speed traps. If you get a substantial fine, you not only watch for officers and speed traps, you watch your own actions… prevention. Same with cooking without instructions or putting together “some assembly required” objects… ruin things a few times and you begin to realize there must be some value in following instructions and that instructions do serve a vital purpose.

So, learn and live.

This isn’t going to be a new nauseating mantra, but we do need to make some more changes. The last thing I (or my husband) want to do is to become an annoying clanging cymbal… you know the clanging symbol or the noise of the newly reformed. Well, and especially since we’ve got so far to go and have a pretty pitiful reputation of making some rather unhealthy food choices. I mean, I’m pretty sure a Starbucks grande mocha isn’t on the ‘heart healthy’ menu. Or peanut M&M’s, either.

If you’ve got risk factors, you’ve got a few choices. Actually, you’ve got few choices. Do nothing; wait and see what happens — but actually you’ll likely make one of two choices. The first is to be faithful, live well, eat well, exercise well, sleep well, work at reducing stress and inflammation and then see what happens in your healthy so-far-as-it-depends-on-you life — or, live poorly, don’t eat well, don’t exercise, don’t sleep well, don’t seek to reduce stress and inflammation and watch the mounting unintended consequences of an unhealthy life take you in directions you would never have imagined.

Yesterday as I sat in the waiting room –that first meeting of the new club I’d just joined, I listened to a surgeon tell me to help my husband. He then went on to tell me my husband needed to do three things:

diet, exercise and eliminate stress.”

I was sort of glad I had left my coffee cup in the room where I’d been waiting previously. I’d ordered it from the coffee stand in the hospital lobby. “Whipped cream on that?” “No, thank you… my husband just had a heart attack.” I was thinking… I need to turn over a new leaf. Well, actually I need to dig up a whole big tree.

What a difference an hour makes

I glanced at the last blog entry.
I smiled as I read: more tomorrow.
And there was “more tomorrow.” There was more “tomorrow” in yesterday than I’ve had in a very long time. And so… I mull over my closing statement: “more tomorrow.” I mull it over and consider: what a difference an hour makes.

I had finished up on the computer… my husband and sons came in from a long day… it was late, they were tired and they were ready to hit the sack, so to speak. My husband came in and talked to me for a bit, had some fruit and was getting ready for bed. Sore and tired.

It was chilly in our home and so the warm down comforter and the soft quilt felt so good as I snuggled into bed. I was watching my precious husband from my pillow… still sore and tired. He was so sore and tired that he felt he couldn’t lie down and had thought he might stay up a bit. What would happen in the next moments I was totally unprepared to experience.

My husband was so chilled he looked for slippers… so sore he was unable for a moment to stand up straight. I could barely hear him as he asked me: what does it feel like to have a heart attack?

What?!?! Are you kidding me?

Uhhh…. it feels like pain in your arms. pain in your chest. heavy pain. it feels like an elephant is on your chest and you cannot breath. It feels like nothing you’ve experienced before, I guess. I guess it feels like you feel right now.

I’m no longer snuggling in my warm bed – our warm bed. Grabbing my bathrobe I hurry into our kitchen where my husband is breathlessly talking to someone on the phone… instantly he asks me to call 911.

That call to 911 set in motion the series of events that would begin with EMT’s coming to our home, assessing my husband’s situation and telling him they wanted him to go for a ride to the ER. I will never forget his painful experience that night. I speedily threw on my dress, my tights and shoes… I pinned up my hair… attempting to be mindful that I might wear that dress and whatever else I put on for an unknown length of time in an unknown situation. I tried to remember all I would need — and, no time to be scared or timid, three minutes later I was in the van driving very quickly and very cautiously to the hospital.

O, what a difference an hour makes.

Once in the ER, it was confirmed that my dear husband had had a heart attack. The words: myocardial infarct sank down in my ears. His blood pressure was sky high and he was already receiving medications that improve his condition tremendously. Hours later he was admitted to the coronary care wing. I had gone home to sleep for an hour, to check on the sleeping children and to get a few things. I returned to the hospital and a bit later where Wes was scheduled for surgery – first they would do an Angiogram to assess the condition of his heart, veins and arteries. This test revealed a number of blockages… a couple were very severe. I would later learn that the angiogram was followed by angioplasty to insert 2 stents in two 95% blocked arteries. The surgeon asked if I had any other questions. I think I mumbled a couple of questions that seemed important at the time, but aren’t all that important now. The surgeon assured me the damage was very minimal but that the arteries were seriously blocked and the stents would restore health.

Later, when another surgeon came out to ask me if I had any other questions, I really couldn’t think of one — or any — except: is my husband going to be alright? It seemed all I could think of was the previous couple of hours I had spent in that heart surgery waiting room. I realized that I had joined another club that day. A club I was surprised had come to me so soon – so early on in the game. I was surprised that I was already joining a group of women who had in common that their husband’s had had heart attacks. Another unenviable club membership. But in a very peculiar way, I was comforted by the fact that each one of the 5 women in that waiting room was a wife… perhaps a mother, a grandmother, a sister or an aunt. I looked around the room many different times that morning and considered that each one had likely faced an uncertain time, maybe a painful time that brought them to that place… that they, too, were asking: is he going to be alright? I wonder, even now, how those women are doing… I’m wondering how the family is doing that gathered in the CCU waiting room. I’m wondering whose story ended that night and what they’re doing now.

Each had a story to tell, each had a life they had been piecing together like a patchwork quilt. And it all begin because they, too, knew: what a difference an hour makes. I have been adding some new things to my quilt this week… squares and stitches I will never forget for they have completely changed my outlook… for I am now a member of the club: women whose husbands have had a heart attack.

Our children also joined a club… kids whose daddy’s had heart attacks.

maybe more on that tomorrow.