Saturday, December 29th, 2012

It’s a little after 2:00am when I awaken. I sleep on the far side of the bed in our room, away from the door and where the least amount of light penetrates the room. I’m lying there, listening to Michelle breath and Sam snore. I don’t feel good. My mouth is really parched - something that happens more than occasionally. Between my diabetes and the dry house in winter, this is not an unusual feeling. But there is something that alarms me - I feel weak. I think about whether or not to get out of bed. I consider just rolling over, but my mouth is so dry, I decide to get up. I find my footing and walk to the kitchen. Our home is not particularly large, so this is only 15 steps from our bedroom. I grab a glass and drink. I stand there. I’m dizzy, almost disoriented. I stand there for at least a couple minutes while I recover my balance and decide what to do.

I walk back to the bedroom, and see Michelle in the soft light from the kitchen. I sit next to her on the bed. I don’t want to wake her up. But there is something really motivating me to do so. I get peaceful, and quietly pray and thank God for her life and then touch her shoulder.

Michelle: “What’s up?”

Me: “Honey, I’m really sorry, but I think I need you to do something.”

Michelle” “What? Are you Ok?”

Me: “No. I don’t know what’s wrong, but I feel terrible, and I think you better take me to the Emergency Room.”
Michelle: “Really? How do you feel? What’s wrong?”

Me: “ I don’t know, but I feel terrible. I don't think I should wait until the morning. I think we should go now.”

Michelle” “What time is it?”

Me: “2:15”

Michelle” “Ok, let me get dressed and we’ll go.”

That was it - the decision was made and we were going to leave. I got dressed and waited while she dressed and went to the bathroom and did her hair a little. Maybe 15 minutes. I was sitting in the living room, waiting. When she was ready, it was about 2:30, and we hit the door. It was snowing like crazy. I stopped - “Maybe we should just wait until the morning” I said. “No way, we’re up now, we’re going” Michelle replied, and we got in the car. “Where should we go” she asked. “Ridges - it’s closest” I replied. “Ok.”

We drove down 35E pretty slowly - maybe 35-40 MPH. We talked - she asked again what I felt and I remember telling her it was hard to explain, but I just didn’t feel right. As we approached the parking area, you could see it was packed. It’s a Friday Night/Saturday Morning at an ER. A lot of people show up for a wide variety of reasons - some legitimate and others not so much. The heavy snow probably made it better for us - we had less traffic than normal. Michelle and I parked the car and walked inside. Michelle said to the admitting nurse “My husband doesn’t feel good. I think he may have had a heart attack.” They got my name and took me to a triage area.

A nurse and an ER tech did a brief history - blood pressure was 110/75, respiration and pulse normal. When asked to describe my symptoms, I said I just didn’t feel very good. Nothing more specific. I never mentioned the neck pain I had experienced in the previous 9 days, because it never came up and I never considered it. I joked with the nurse - there was no sense of concern or urgency in her voice or actions. She was a cool headed professional - and I was presenting with non-specific symptoms and no cursory signs of heart failure. She told me they would take me back and do some routine testing and called for an orderly.

I was wheeled back to the ER in the wheel chair. When I went into the room, I got myself up and out of the wheel chair and laid down on the table. A male nurse came in and right behind him another male nurse. He asked how I felt - I told him I was feeling better actually. We talked about the Vikings game while they put the leads on my chest for the EKG. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They flipped the switched and within a few seconds stopped talking to me. As I looked at them, one of their jaws visibly dropped. They rushed from the room. I knew nothing yet - but it seemed a little serious. A moment later, a female nurse walked in. She looked serious and was clearly going through a mental protocol of what to do next. “Are you Ok?” she asked. “Yes, I’m fine - what’s up?” “Well, you have had a heart attack. A serious heart attack. The Dr. is coming, but we need to get you out of here in a hurry. Minutes is muscle.” Michelle gave me ‘the look.’ It was a combination of love, worry and ‘I’ve been sayin’. We wondered what was next, and the nurse returned with a bag of saline (I think) and was trailed by Dr. Stephen Batisata, the cardiologist who would shortly perform my surgery. He is a very professional and very pleasant practitioner. I had confidence in him immediately. Dr. Batista explained that the catheter lab was closed here, and we had to go to Fairview Southdale. He said he was going to drive there, and Michelle would have to do the same. There was talk of getting LifeFlight, but an ambulance was close and the weather wasn’t ideal. Dr. Batista had to sign off on using the ambulance, and in the interim we were reminded again that “minutes was muscle.” Somewhere during this conversation I mentioned the pain I had felt in my neck. I told Dr. Batista that I first experienced it 9 days before while visiting Michelle in this hospital. Things were becoming more frenetic now, and my condition was worsening. I’m sure it was a combination of factors, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind I was having more trouble breathing and getting less alert. Once the ambulance arrived, Michelle and Dr. Batista left while I waited.

There was some confusion for the next 15 minutes or so. The driver of the ambulance didn’t have the right certification or something, and they had to find a nurse on one of the floors to accompany me to Fairview. By the time they rolled me out to the staging area, I was definitely going downhill and fast. I was having a hard time breathing, I felt like I wanted to throw up and I was having a difficult time understanding what they were saying to me (or maybe just around me). The ride took forever. They had piled my paperwork on my belly and chest and it was still there. I was breathing in a mask, and couldn't seem to communicate through the noise to the nurse who was sitting in the back of the ambulance with me.

 By the time we arrived at Southdale, I just wanted something for the pain. Dr. Batista met me on the way in and could see I was not doing well. He apologized for the length it took to get me to the hospital - but it was snowing and crappy and there wasn’t really anything anyone could do. The next 30 minutes are blur. I know they did a test or Xray or something but I don’t know what it was. I did come to when Dr. Batista met me in the operating room. He told me that I had suffered multiple heart attacks in the Left Anterior Descending Artery, also known as “The Widow Maker.” For those of you, who like me, don’t have any idea what that means:

From the minute a widow maker hits, survival time ranges from minutes to several hours. Rapidly progressing symptoms should signal the need for immediate attention. Symptoms of initial onset may include nausea, shortness of breath, pain in the head, jaw, arms or chest, numbness in fingers, often of a novel but imprecise sensation which builds with irregular heart beat. Early symptoms may be mistaken for food poisoning, flu or general malaise until they intensify. A widow maker cannot kill instantly but induces cardiac arrest which may do so within 10 to 20 minutes of no circulation. A victim with no pulse or breath is still alive, living off oxygen stored in the blood and may be able to be rescued if treatment is begun promptly within this window. - Surviving the Widow Maker Heart Attack - AOL Health

I’d been walking around for 9 days. Dr. Batista told me I would have a stent inserted. He told me I was incredibly lucky. He told me I would have to have a few catheters inserted and that I would be fine. I recall falling asleep. I don’t remember much from the next few days.

Friday, December 28th, 2012

It’s 3:00pm and Michelle will be home soon. It has been a mild December day, so I step outside and have a smoke. Little did I know it would be the last cigarette I will ever smoke. I followed my afternoon ritual - after the smoke, I went inside and spritzed my jacket with S.O.S. and then took a shower. Voilà! I am clean and new and ready for the evening, with Michelle none the wiser.

After she gets home, we decide to go out for dinner. While splitting a hamburger, Michelle tells me about her day and the job she’s doing in Cleveland and goes on about a few other things. I enjoy these times she vents about work. Truth be told, I am an incredibly lucky man. (I have had a number of extraordinary women in my life. I deserved none of them and before I quit drinking, hurt all of them. My first wife was a wonderful woman who endured me until I made it unendurable. To this day, she remains an incredible woman who unselfishly put the needs of our children ahead of her feelings, and managed to help maintain my position with my kids when she easily could have destroyed it. We remain incredibly close, now both remarried and happy for each others lives. I love her new husband, she my wife.

Michelle has seen me through my worst and been a significant part of making me into a much better man. We share a spiritual quest that goes with our spiritual love. We are incredibly thankful for God in our lives, and together we make each other better people than we were individually. She is a tireless worker and a good steward of our lives. I need to add my Mom to the list of incredible women. She deserves more words than I can fill in this blog, she’s a saint. I could wax poetically about my daughter, who has grown into a beautiful woman and doting mother. Suffice to say, I am an incredibly blessed man. Anyway, as Michelle and I chatted, she looked at me after a while and said “You don’t look very good. This table has more color than you do.”

I knew she was right. As I sat there, I didn’t feel very good at all. I ached. I felt like I had a low grade virus and felt clammy. I’m pretty honest with myself in these matters - not always so with her - but I had to admit she was right. I felt terrible. “You’re right - I don't feel very good. If I don't feel better in the morning, I will go to Urgent Care and get checked out.”

That was it. Michelle and I went home after dinner. As we set around watching television, I thought about what she'd said earlier. Frankly I didn't feel very good. I remember thinking to myself, that I guess I'll probably have to skip my morning meeting and had to urgent care. When we went to bed that evening, I didn't feel particularly great, but I also felt I would be fine.

Wednesday, December 26th, 2102

You may not know this, but I love The Christmas Holiday. For many years I didn’t much like the Holidays - it goes back to when I was a kid and a perceived slight on my birthday - but my kids got me to enjoy my birthday and the entire Holiday Season has become a wonderful few weeks of fun, relaxation and reflection. Since I no longer drink, From my birthday to New Years is a clear path that I get to really enjoy without remorse or guilt.

My old business partner pretty much insisted we “close the shop” for two weeks. He likened it to the European custom of paying for your employees family vacation every year, and since I am self employed, I pretty much still do that now.

So the day after Christmas in 2012 was a pretty busy day for Michelle and me. While she was still recovering from her procedure, I remember we did a little after Christmas shopping, went to lunch somewhere and got some time to ourselves. I think she went to work for a bit, leaving me to do somethings on my own.

The significance of this inconsequential actions was I went to the store and bought my last pack of cigarettes. I didn’t know it was my last pack, mind you, it just turned out to be. I had been thinking a lot about quitting my 2 pack a week habit for some time now. I had already bought and was awaiting the arrival of an e-cigarette from someone I knew who recommended a particular brand. While I thought very little of the health benefits, smoking was a singular distraction for me that I wanted to be done serving. I had a new grandson; I spend days at meetings and training sessions where taking a smoke break is a real pain in the ass; I was getting more conspicuous around Michelle and since I vowed to never lie about it again, hated when she asked if I had been smoking and had to answer affirmatively. I actually was VERY good at hiding my habit. Since I only smoked 4-5 a day, it was easy to keep it away from home. My most frequent smoke break was taken in the car at 60 miles an hour, all windows down (regardless of the weather) and was followed up with a breath mint and a spritz of S.O.S, a must have product for smokers that removes the smell of smoke from your hair and clothes. I kept a spray bottle in my car and in my garage. You get the picture.

Anyway, I remember buying the pack because the clerk at the Super America is a friend and asked me about Michelle and then added “I thought you were giving those up.” “Soon, I just ordered an e-cigarette and I’m going to try it next week.” “Well, good luck” she said. As I left the store, I decided that I was going to really make an effort, and would probably have to set a quit date soon. I do know the thought was prominent as I smoked a few more cigarettes than normal over the next couple days. Later in the afternoon, Michelle and I were sitting and watching TV. Recently Michelle had rearranged the living room, and created a cozy little area with just a loves eat and chair in one corner of the room, while the dining room table and china cabinet took up the rest of the area. As were sitting there, that now familiar pain in my neck returned. This time, however, it was far more intense than the previous incidents, and actually caused me to stand up from my chair and rub the affected area around my neck.

Michelle: “What is it?”

Me: “It’s that pain in my neck again.”

Michelle: “Really? What do you think it is?”

Me: “I dunno - but I think I’m going to call Spike (our dentist) and see if I can get in and see him.”
Michelle: “Spike?”

Me: “Yeah - I think maybe its a TMJ thing. It really hurts. It’s like all the skin is trying to gather in one spot in my neck.”

This incident lasted at least two to three minutes. I recall a few specific things from this last symptomatic event:

1. I did think I had something serious enough to warrant a visit to the doctor (even if it was the dentist)
2. I remember checking myself for arm pain, chest pain or shortness of breath and ruled out this was anything to do with my heart.
3. I obviously wasn’t having anything really severely wrong.

Clearly I would have had other symptoms. This particular pain, though acute, had happened over the course of 6 days. Since it was repetitive it demanded some attention but if it were really serious I would have had more regular, consistent discomfort or some other symptom to go with this discomfort.

That’s it - the next time I felt anything, I would have bet my last nickel I just needed some antibiotics and rest.

Sunday, December 23rd, 2102

I am a Vikings fan. That means I am accustomed to disappointment. The Vikings were playing Houston that day and needed a win to give themselves a chance at the playoffs. We won the game, but it was because Blair Walsh was a kicking machine. The Vikings are a constant source of frustration - it is little wonder I had another heart attack after the game.

After the game, Michelle and I were watching something else on TV. She was still in “recovery mode” from her hospital visit. She described the catheter that was inserted into her as “an alien with a life of its own” which made her uncomfortable but certainly way less painful than the kidney stones. She had travel ahead of her - a job in Cleveland - and would not be able to have the procedure to “blow up” the kidney stones for a few weeks. We were informed that they were huge - and so it is safe to say we were less than convinced she was going to be Ok until mid-January when the procedure would finally happen.

I made some dinner, and we settled in to a quiet evening. Sam and Tobi (our dogs) were sitting on the couch with Michelle and I was dutifully retrieving whatever Michelle may have needed, cleaning up after dinner, etc. Around 8:00, I felt that tightening in my neck again. I did not have any chest pain, arm tingling or any other symptom that classically presents that you read about as warning signs. I recall turning to Michelle.

Me: “There it is again.” 

Michelle: “What?”

Me: “That weird pain in my neck.” 

Michelle: “What pain.”

Me: “Oh, I felt it the other night when you were in the hospital. I dunno - maybe it’s a TMJ thing. Feels like all the skin in my neck is twisting together.”

Michelle: “That’s weird.”

Me: “Yeah.”

That was it. I recall it lasted about a minute or so, then subsided quickly. But it’s the day before Christmas Eve, and I had way more important things on my mind: Michelle was recovering but still having problems; I had a new grandchild and a daughter freshly home from delivery that I thought about constantly; a Development Project that was a mess and not going well; a client who had a third project starting that was way too undefined for my liking and difficult to decide if I was going about the project correctly; I was rebranding my company and scrambling to get my paperwork done, new website designed, etc. In other words, I didn’t have time to be sick, to consider my warning signs or stop and think too much about what was happening around me. While I don’t do too much “what if” thinking, I often wonder what would have happened had I decided then and there I should have this looked at the next day.

Friday, December 21st, 2102

I spent the night in the hospital, sleeping in a fold out chair next to my wife. A new nurse came on about Midnight and she was far more attentive to Michelle and my needs. She retrieved the pull out chair from another room and had not problem getting ahold of a doctor and upping Michelle’s pain killers.

Adam had brought some movies, and as Michelle finally passed out I turned on a movie and relaxed for the first time in 18 hours. We all know love in our life, and to see the people you love in pain or discomfort is very difficult. I always hated when the kids were sick. When my own Dad was dying, I encouraged our liberal use of morphine to help ease his suffering and my own. While I have had numerous sports injuries, excruciating back and abdominal pain, I never felt the hurt inside that I did when watching someone I love go through this discomforting time. Little did I know that in a matter of days I would learn a new level of pain that I had never before experienced and would change my attitude forever.

Finally, around 2:00am or so, Michelle woke up and the nurse and I helped her get up and use the bathroom. Knowing she had the kidney stones really makes this a touch and go operation. You have to go, you’re afraid of the results. Michelle is a very tough woman, but this experience was testing her strength and resolve.

After the nurse helped her back into bed, Michelle and I prayed together and we talked for a few minutes. I assured her I was fine staying there (despite her wishes I go home) and wouldn’t think of leaving her side. After she fell back to sleep, I also drifted off and didn’t awake until the nurse came in around 6:30 to get her vitals. We knew she was going to have a procedure in a few hours, and so I left her in the nurses care and headed home for a quick shower and a few phone calls to catch up the family on her status. I returned to the hospital in time to talk to her and escort her down to the prep area.

Michelle is in the surgical suite, waiting for a catheter to be inserted to temporarily take care of her kidney stones. Her Mom and Dad are sitting with me in the waiting area. Lynda asks about the previous evening, and I give her a pretty complete recap of our experience with the nurses and relayed what had happened with me as well. The following conversation is pretty close to word for word:

Lynda: So do you feel ok today?
Me: Yeah, I feel fine. Sure was weird though.
Lynda: Has it happened since then?
Me: No.
Lynda: I wonder if you had a heart attack?
Me: Sure, I'm gonna tell my wife as she's about to go into surgery "Hey Honey, Mom thinks I had a heart attack last night."

This time I was only 500 feel from the Emergency Room . . .

Thursday, December 20, 2012

It started out like  any other Thursday. I was up early, working in my basement office and drinking coffee. I heard Michelle scream at me from upstairs, and since I was in the middle of something, I ignored her and continued my work. Michelle screaming at me was nothing new - one could suggest it was a daily event. When she screamed a second time, however, I listened up. I headed up the stairs to find my wife writhing in pain on the bathroom floor. She couldn't really pinpoint the problem, but in then end determined it was indigestion and insisted (against my better judgement - I wanted to go to Urgent Care)  that I run to the store and get her some GasX.

By the end of the day, what started as kidney stones for her became a heart attack for me and a year of lemons turning into lemonade. I believe that God gave me 1,000 warnings that I ignored over the years. To suggest I was high risk is a bit of an understatement. I’m a Type 1 diabetic; I have a family history of Cardio Vascular Disease (CVD) and I was in one of my “on again” periods of smoking. (I have been an on again/off again smoker since my teens). In other words, I should have known better. But I think I am not alone in:

• not knowing the warning signs of a heart attack very well
• not expecting I would suffer one at 54 years of age
• being pre-occupied with caring for my wife and not paying attention to my body

But I digress . . .

Eventually, around 9:30am or so, we got Michelle to Ridges Hospital in Burnsville. She was admitted in the early afternoon, and I spent the day watching her deal with the excruciating pain. We learned she would need a procedure, a surgery and some recovery time. I have to be honest with you, Michelle is one tough woman. And she was in real, persistent and severe pain. Our experience with my Dad, Michelle’s Dad and others have convinced us you need to be an advocate if you are not getting the relief you expect or the service you deserve. We were getting neither.

Throughout the afternoon and evening, with the exception of about 90 minutes when I headed home to get her some clothes and personal items, I spent the bulk of my time talking, praying and believing with Michelle as well as fighting the nursing staff. When the evening nurse came on, we felt completely helpless. I kept calling my daughter, Grace, who is a Med-Surge nurse in Portland, OR. She was very helpful - telling me over and over that Michelle could get much more drugs than she was given and that she hold not be in this kind of pain. Remember that - there is no reason to be in that kind of pain. This became something that I focused on during my own hospitalization 9 days later.

My son Adam came down during the evening and hung around with us. He’s a wonderful and tender man whose presence makes me feel comfortable. He joked a bit with Michelle and then and to leave, because he was flying to Portland the next day. I don’t remember what time he left the hospital, but I know it was after some dinner and a few laughs. His presence was calming, caring and a relief from the concern I had about my wife and her condition.

About 10:45pm I called Grace and her husband Neal in Portland. Primarily I was calling to give the the final recap and to get any last minute advice. The kids had just had Daniel Reid Kelly, our first grandchild, a week before. Michelle and I were so excited for them. I had booked a marathon flight from Minneapolis to Portland via Las Vegas for $159 round trip via Spirit and I was ready to go see them in just a few weeks. We got to business, got our “work” done and I was given my coaching orders. I was in the family waiting room at the hospital, and was leaning against a wall in a squat. Neal prayed. At the end of his prayer, he sort of paused and then added “Thanks, God, for Dad. Keep him peaceful and safe.” I remember that - thinking how great it is that Neal thought of me too, knowing I was in for a long night and needed His cover too.

I hung up, pushed up from the squat position and started to walk out of the area. I felt a “tug” in my chest - like I just hadn’t stretched out fully - more like an athletic type of discomfort then anything else. I thought nothing of it. I rubbed my chest for a second and continued on. I stopped at the nurses station and again demanded someone come see Michelle because she was still in a great deal of pain and Grace and Neal (who is a pharmacist) assured me she could tolerate a great deal more pain killer than she had been administered. This was another contentious meeting - the nurse was clearly disturbed by my interruptions and unsympathetic with Michelle’s condition. I was tired, less than gracious and clearly perturbed.

I left the nurses station and headed down the hallway to Michelle’s room. As I took just a few steps, I felt a pain in my neck that I had never felt before. It was like a bite, but that doesn’t describe it either. More like a twisting of the flesh. I later described it as if all the skin in my neck was attempting to gather together in one place - sort of at the base of my neck, on the left side, about the height of my Adam’s apple.

I massaged it. It stopped me from walking for a moment - but I think just because it was a pretty severe initial pain followed by this twisting feeling. “Stress” is what I recall thinking. “That’s really weird” also went through my thinking. It was my first heart attack. I was 1500 feet from the Emergency Room . . .