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.