near death

I found this in my drafts folder and apparently whatever or whoever I was writing it for didn't get it because it was still in my drafts folder.  So, here's what I wrote...

 

My family has a history of heart disease, which is the number one risk factor, except for eating bacon sandwiches dipped in bacon grease with a side of fat every day of your life.  My grandfather, who I never knew, died of a heart attack at the age of 44.  My father's brother died of a heart attack at the age of 33 and my father had his heart attack at the ge of 52.  I would later find out that my cousin had heart surgery at just about the same time I did.  Here's the story...

I started having wierd pains in my right shoulder in May of 2004.  I remember the first one happened when  I was picking the kids up from school very near the end of the semester.  It was a sharp pain, almost like a hot ice pick going through my shoulder and into my shoulder blade.  I have a pretty high tolerance for pain so I didn't think much about it nor did I tell anyone about it.  I went home, took an aspirin and laid down.  The pain subsided in about 15 minutes.  I continued having the same pain every now and then.  I also had developed a rather enormous neck area, my left ankle was swolen and when I laid down I had a gurgling noise in my lungs.

Stacy had a meeting in Denver in October of that year,  so we went a few days early and hung around Breckenridge for a couple of days.  I noticed that it wasn't very easy to breathe that thin mountain air,  but I made do.  Stacy still didn't know about the "pain" I had been having.  After dinner one night in Breckenridge we were walking back to the condo when the pain hit me.  It was worse than I had ever had before.  The pain was so intense that I threw up in the bathroom by the pool of the hotel.  Shortly after, the pain went away again.  The next day we decided to go a little higher in elevation since mountain air was so easy to breathe, he said sarcastically.  We had our picture taken at the Continental divide, 12,095 feet.  We didn't hike very far that day.

I dropped Stacy off at her meeting near the Denver airport and I headed out for the 9 hour drive back to Kansas City.  Probably not  the best idea for someone who was having heart attacks on a regular basis.

Shortly after Christmas Stacy decided to get me a doctor's appointment.  Shortly after the first of the year, my regular doctor did an in office ECG and asked me to go right upstairs to see Dr. Bissing, a cardiologist.  We spent about ten minutes speaking with Dr. Bissing when he told us he was admitting me to the hospital as he believed I was having heart attacks, more than a dozen by this time.  The ankle swelling, the swelling in the neck, the gurgling and the pain were all indicative of congestive heart failure.  I went directly into the hospital next door and the testing began.  The sonogram told the story.  I had an enlarged heart, congestive heart failure and an ejection fraction of 20 to 25.  An ejection fraction is the percentage of blood the heart is pumping.  A normal EF is 65 which means your heart closes 65% to pump blood.  The ineffiency of my heart was causing fluid to be backed up into my body causing the swelling and the fluid in my lungs.  They did an angiogram after that and then the news from the cardiologist and the heart surgeon...the bottom half of my heart was non-viable, dead.  There was nothing they could do but send me home.  They didn't think putting me on the heart transplant list was an option either.  So, home I went, to die I suppose.  Hard to believe, but I tried to stay upbeat about the whole situation.

It was Super Bowl Sunday and we had some friends over to watch the game and after everyone had left we went to bed.  I awoke at about one with chest pains.  We decided to go to the hospital.  This time they decided to do a nuclear stress test and when they stressed my heart, the part they thought was nonviable began to work, a little.  Dr. Castlemain came to my room and told me the "good" news.  He said he believed he could help me live another twenty years or more.  He wanted to crack open my chest the next morning at 7.  I told him to go for it.  Either I am fearless or possible naive, but I wasn't worried in the slightest.  I guess deep down I knew I hadn't felt well for a long time and now I would feel good again.

The surgery lasted until 1 pm and went fairly smooth, except for the 13 transfusions during the procedure.  I remember laying in the intensive care unit listening to Stacy talk with the nurse on duty.  She assured Stacy that I was not aware of anything.  I know that because I could hear every word.  But I was in no pain whatsoever at that point. 

The next thing I remember is a woman's voice saying something about "no blood pressure" and I could hear whistles and bells and sirens going off.  It was either getting very busy in my room or I was at the state fair.  Stacy later told me they rushed them out of the room, pulled the curtain and closed the door at about 4 pm.  My family would not hear any word on what was going on for four hours.  In the meantime, I was aware of everything going on.  Later, Dr. Bissing would explain to me that the last thing to go is your hearing.  As an aside. if you are ever in this situation with a loved one, rest assured that they may look unconcious but there is a very good chance they can hear every word.  Be encouraging!

As I laid in the darkness, listening to the doctors and staff in panic mode, I remember wondering to myself what might be going on.  I thought to myself that I diidn't believe it was a good time to die as I had not said goodbye to my wife, kids and friends.  The doctors kept asking about the anesthetician.  They were literally beating on my chest.  At one point they pushed on my chest and I let out a groan.  I remember thinking that it must have sounded odd to them.  Still no pain whatsoever.  In fact, not only was there no pain, I was actually having a very serene feeling.  I felt very peaceful, thinking random thoughts about my life and things in general.  As I mentioned earlier, my hearing was apparently the only thing that was working.  I pictured myself lying in the dark.  I looked upward, in my mind's eye and there was a beautiful field of blue.  The kind of blue that you can't really see if you look directly at it.  It reminded me of a couple of summers back when Stacy and I were laying on the dock at Table Rock Lake, where we hang out alot during the summer, looking up into the pitch black night and seeing every star in the sky.  It was quite beautiful.  A death counselor would later tell me that some folks see the field of blue and some see the "light".

This went on for the living in the waiting room for four hours.  For me, time didn't seem to matter.  Then came a point where I was in complete darkness.  I was away from everything that was happening, detached, like  was now observing but not in a visual way.  Does that make sense?  Then I felt a hot liquid running down my cheeks and neck and someone asked, "Where did thatcome from?".  It was like this hot liquid had awakened me.  It was very quiet and the last thing I remember is breathing on my own and panting like a dog.  They had removed my breathing tube which apparently was in me incorrectly and I was drowning.  I woke up the next morning sitting in a chair in intensive care and seeing my friend Dan Holiday at the door.  I said, "Hey Dan, what's up?"

I would spend the next two weeks sleeping in a chair because I had trouble breathing on my back.  It was during this time, sleeping in a chair, that I remember visiting many people I loved who had already passed.  My father, my friend John Sternad, my grandma GG and many others.  I would visit with them often during the ensuing weeks.

I asked the doctors what happened that night in the ICU nad they just didn't want to give out many details, and that was alright, after all, I was there.  I have to say that whatever happened to me that night was the most peaceful, serene feeling I have ever had.  I was not afraid, I was not worried, I was just at peace.  I died that night according to the doctors, but Dr. Bissing told me later that I didn't go because I wasn't ready.  I had the will to live.  I gained some knowledge that everyone should have at this point in our lives. 

My daughter has some doubts in her faith.  I tell her all the time to just believe and we can all be together forever.

I won't spoil the ending, but it ain't too bad.  Someone asked me after that experience if I felt like I had cheated death.  I told them "no".  What I feel, is that I was given a second chance, and I took it.  No regrets.