When I awoke that Tuesday morning, 28 December, I never dreamed that it would be the start of not only a new day, but, quite literally, a new life for me.
I had been out the evening before to play cards at the usual Monday Night Euchre at the legion. During the evening, I was feeling kind of woozy for an hour or so, but attributed it to all the coffee that I had been drinking that day. Little did I know what lay in store for me the next day.
When I got home (I live alone with 2 cats), I turned on the living room light, and the bulb popped. That angered me. I went to bed, but didn't sleep well.
So Tuesday morning, after dressing and getting a couple of mugs of coffee, I jumped up on a chair to change the overhead bulb. I went down to the basement to get another bulb, and found I didn't have one large enough, so knew I would have to go to the store to buy more. That angered me. I put in one that was too small temporarily, and, when I got down off the chair, suddenly I felt very dizzy. It felt like I had put on a tee shirt 3 sizes too small...everything was squeezing me. My hands felt like I had gloves on, and my arms just hung by my sides. It took an effort to try to raise them up, so I just let them dangle. I saw black spots about 3 inches across.
As I am diabetic, I have been told that diabetics seldom feel pain. I know that's true, because I didn't feel any pain at all. But I knew that something was very much out of the ordinary, and I'd better get help before I pass out, so I phoned 911. I unlocked the door, got my health card, put my medications in a bag, and phoned a neighbour to come over to look after my cats, as I didn't know how long I was going to be. I didn't return home for eleven days.
The paramedics were there within 10 minutes or so, hooked up some wires to me, then put me on a gurney and loaded me in the ambulance. The nearest hospital is in the next town, about a half hour away, and we had sirens on and lights flashing all the way.
I don't know how he got there...I guess I must have called him...but my brother and his wife were there. I guess the hospital gave me drugs, because there is a gap of things that I just don't remember. But I do remember being told that the hospital where they usually send heart patients was full, so I was transported by helicopter to Toronto General Hospital. I remember the helicopter ride, and a gurney ride into the hospital, but then things are more or less blank for the next 3 days.
Apparently, I had a 5 hour operation the next morning - a triple-bypass. The arteries around my heart were blocked in 12 places.
I know I drifted in and out. My family members and friends came to visit, but I just remember vague images. I guess I spoke to them, but I have no idea what I said.
When I finally came to my senses, I found that I now have a large scar running down the center of my chest from just below my throat to my breastbone. I was told that they cut me open, used a saw to cut through the bone, and held my chest cavity open with clamps. Then they bypassed my heart with a machine that keeps the blood circulating, removed my heart, repaired it with arteries taken from my leg, and put it back in again. WOW! God bless modern medicine!
They joined the bone and wired it together with 4 pieces of stainless steel wire (I saw the x-rays. Pretty cool. I can't wait to go through airport security.) The skin was held closed with stitches that dissolved on their own in a couple of weeks. Again, being diabetic, I felt no pain.
There is an 8" scar on my lower leg and a 3" scar on my upper leg where the arteries were removed. Again, no pain. Again, dissolving stitches.
Complications set in the day after surgery. My lungs filled with fluid, and I almost drowned. My hands, feet and face puffed out. I remember only waking once that day. I looked at my left hand, and wondered who the fat kid was that had his hand over mine. Of course, I was looking at my own hand, but didn't recognize it, drugged as I was. Yes, I almost died!
I came to my senses the next day with a hose up my nose to drain my lungs, a breathing tube down my throat, and a catheter in my privates to help drain the liquids that my body was retaining. They wouldn't give me any water, even though I was parched. All I could have were ice chips to suck on. They helped.
Getting those 3 hoses out wasn't fun, but not really that bad, either. Just a quick moment of discomfort.
The only pain I had was when I had to sneeze or cough. My chest felt like it exploded. They gave me a small red pillow in the shape of a heart that I hugged to my chest and that helped tremendously. That little pillow was my best friend for the first couple of weeks. Gradually, as I healed, the pain became less and less.
A week or so later I returned home to my new lifestyle.
I have switched to decaf coffee with sweetener and milk, instead of regular coffee with sugar and cream. No more fatty fast-foods. I am working on enjoying vegetables and fruits instead of pizza and do-nuts. I find skim milk tastes okay. No more cakes, ice cream, cookies by the handful etc.
And I dug out the treadmill that I used for about 3 days when I first got it, before it became a storage rack. Now it is a treadmill once again. I am afraid I'm still addicted to the TV, but I try to take James Brown's advice and "Get up offa that thing" whenever I can. I walk whenever possible, and have lost some weight. I'm not obese, but 15 pounds off or so will make me normal.
So, all in all, this wasn't the most enjoyable New Year's holiday that I have ever had.
I just want to thank the 911 operator for her prompt action, the paramedics for their speed and skill, the helicopter pilots and especially the surgeons and staff of Toronto General Hospital for their skill, kindness and concern. My biggest thanks I have offered up in prayer to thank God for not giving up on this very stupid human.
Better, healthier times are ahead.
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