05 March 2004
I'd like to share my story in order to help reassure people who may be facing the same surgery I did, and to impress upon readers that there is hope. Plus, it's a good story!
I was a 38-year-old bachelor who enjoyed dating women, but I seemed to be meeting many who were worried about STDs. I tried to explain to them that in order to have sexually transmitted diseases, you first have to be having sex! Not surprisingly, that line didn't convince them. So I went to my doctor to get some kind of document that would prove there is nothing to worry about. And while I was at it, I figured I'd get a full physical.
Because I had started lifting weights in the past year, all my test results came back looking great (even though I still was smoking cigarettes). My bad cholesterol was low, my good cholesterol was high. My blood pressure was great, and the chest x-ray showed still-pink lungs. But the fuzzy x-ray also indicated something odd with the heart, so they ordered a CT scan just to be safe. The doctors kept reassuring me that everything would be fine because my health was so strong.
Well, a week later they told me they had good news and bad news. The bad news was that I had an aortic aneurysm and I would need open-heart surgery. Soon. The good news was I don't have STDs!
The aneursym was 5.8 cm, and very close to the heart. They'd have to cut it out and sew in a Dacron polyester tube, which they promised would get me into old age. When they put it that way, it sounded so simple. Cutting and sewing? Heck, my mom can do that!
I did a fair amount of Internet research and learned more about the procedure: How it could take 3 to 5 hours, how they'd "chill" my body to 50-something degrees Farenheit, how they'd crack open my breastbone, how I'd have to have a bladder catheter (or "Foley") where no man should have a tube inserted! Of all the things I faced, the thought of that tube bothered me a lot. Go figure. And even though the surgeons said my chances of death on the table were extremely slim (less than 5%), I started researching the morbidity rate of the operation, and that caused me great distress. I also found this Web site, which gave me some positive insights.
Still, I had to go through with it. I quit smoking, which wasn't that bad when under deadline pressure. And I braced myself for the most painful few weeks I'd ever experienced (until that time in my life, I'd never broken a bone or even been stung by a bee!). I joked a lot, and sharpened my Fred Sanford wisecracks (grabbing my chest and shouting to heaven, "Elizabeth, I'm coming to see you, baby!").
Like everything else in life, time comes and goes quickly. The operation came and went. Surprisingly, it wasn't that painful. A nurse told me that the patients who have an artery removed from their leg and inserted inside their chest invariably complain about the pain...in their leg, not their chest. For me, it felt like I was slugged in the chest; not a knock-you-on-your-back punch, but a one that causes you to lose your breath momentarily.
And here's the kicker: The doctors initially said that aneurysms grown about half a centimeter a year, which meant I had about four years until mine reached critical mass. The day after the procedure, my surgeon came running into my room to tell me that my aneursym appeared to have grown a half a centimeter in the one MONTH since they took the CT scan and MRI. That means I had about four weeks left, not four years. I was feeling so lucky that I organized a trip to Las Vegas.
The most painful part was when they pulled the hoses out of my body (a few drainage hoses in the chest cavity, and that nasty Foley). They tell you, "This will burn." It's not a matchstick kind of burn, but rather a napalm kind of burn. Fortunately, the pain subsides immediately.
I was walking the halls of the hospital the day after the surgery. I was home in five days. Each day I'd walk a little bit ... maybe 100 feet the first day, then five minutes the next day, then 10, then a half hour, etc. This was in the winter, but I managed. I had problems sweating profusely while sleeping, but it went away after three weeks. Coughing and sneezing hurt those first several weeks, as your chest is held together with wire while the sternum heals. So keep yourself healthy.
And now, a little more than a year later? My only restriction is the doctors don't want me to do heavy weightlifting. Go figure! The only good thing I've done for my body after all these years, and they say I can't do it. They don't want the increased blood pressure to cause another aneurysm. So I lift lighter weights with more repetitions. And I can run like never before (I still don't smoke). Last night I did 55 minutes of a good-paced trot on the elliptical trainer at the gym. No problem! I have to take beta-blocker pills, probably every day for the rest of my life. They prevent the heart from racing, thereby keeping blood pressure low. Some people complain about side effects, but I don't feel anything dramatic. A little lethargy at times, but that's probably the crazy bachelor hours I still keep. I'll have to have a CT scan done each year for the rest of my life, just to be safe. But the doctor's don't expect anything else to happen. And, incidentally, I've dated four gi! rls since my surgery (all at the same time!). So if my heart can take that stress, it can take anything!
A few bits of advice if you're facing this kind of surgery: If you haven't been exercising, consider starting. I truly believe that was one of the big, big factors that helped me through this. Keep your humor, too. Understand what needs to be done during the operation, but don't make yourself crazy with researching statistics about side effects and mortality rates. Take your pain medication! When pain sets in, it's hard to beat it back. So don't be a tough guy. Set goals for yourself, but be aware that you'll still be the same person when all is said and done. It's surprising how many people expect you to have a Scrooge-like epiphany of the heart, as if you're supposed to quit your job, sing and dance in the streets of town, and give all your money to the homeless. No, but I do have a different outlook on things, and I took the vacation to Germany I had always wanted to.
And remember, you'll get through it. The fear is the worst part. Best of luck to you.