Today’s the Day (I Hope)

I thought earlier this week that this would be the week I would receive the transplant.  Not sure why that thought came over me but I felt sure.  Today, I ordered my lunch and after dining delivered it, I took the cover off the drink and the plate.  Then, my nurse came in and took the tray saying there were new orders to fast for a “possible procedure.”

Twenty minutes later, my doctor and my clinic social worker came in to tell me a heart became available and matched on paper.  So here I sit waiting for the “procedure” a lot more nervous than the first time.  They just informed me there’s a change in surgeons.  It should be nothing, but I don’t know.  Not feeling this is the time to be writing.  Last time, I remained calm.  This time, struggling to stay calm.  I’m sure all will be well in the end.  I’d like to thank everyone for their concern and prayers and thoughts.

My feelings go out to the donor and his family.  A young man who left before his time.

Field Trip!!

Yesterday proved to be a red-letter day.  The prufusionist and my RN and I were walking and I took my first lap around the cardiac ward.  Walking at a normal pace without complications, I received the offer to go down to the lobby to see the Christmas tree.  I welcomed the opportunity to walk another route for nothing else but to break up the routine.  Not that I have a problem with the routine.  Sometimes doing something outside the norm can be refreshing.

We walked to the lobby and I sat down and looked at the Christmas tree.  Pretty impressive in size and decorations.  We sat for a pretty long time not to rest but to take in the sights.  Like looking out the front entrance, looking up at a 4 story ceiling, and looking at the fountain.  I also enjoyed watching people walk past.  In addition to the tree, the hospital has a genuine gingerbread house about 5 feet tall.  Every year, the kitchen makes one and places the house out in the lobby.

During the return trip to the ward, we were able to walk outside, the first time I have been outside in 3 weeks, technically, 20 days but close enough.  I spent around 2o minutes in the courtyard, looked at some pidgeons and stared at a fountain.  We then tood the elevator back up to the 11th floor and while in the elevator I thought to myself how the alarm in the elevator was the first I’ve heard not associated with the IV pump, the balloon pump, nor the heart monitor.

Starting the day, I believed the day would be uneventful.  But I took a great walk, watched the #2 Longhorn basketball team beat #10 North Carolina hopefully proving to the talking heads on ESPN that the Horns deserve their ranking, saw most of the Cowboy game online, and had some sushi and spring rolls.

Medically, progress continues without any complications.  Not whining, but Friday night, I couldn’t help but find humor in the staff waking me up at 3:30am to change my bandages, flush my tubes with saline, and replace the pads for my leads.  After spilling saline on my bed, they told me to get out of bed so they could change the sheets for this reason…so I could sleep.  Seriously.  They woke me up so I could sleep.  Gotta love it.

Today, I’m one day closer to getting this transplant than yesterday.

What’s New?

Absolutely nothing.  I’ve settled into a routine of waking up, cleaning up, then standing up.  Then sitting down, waiting for breakfast, waiting to walk, waiting for rounds (when the doctor comes by), waiting for lunch and dinner, but the biggie would be waiting for a heart.  My doctor told me that this past week nothing from UNOS came close to a match.  Really, the only difference from last week would be my exercise bike and some visitors.

First, I my family came from Austin to visit bringing the poodle.  That actually lifted my spirits, not that there was any apprehension.  Just good for any difference in the routine.  Kyle came and went, David and I texted each other.  During the week, a friend from grade school, a fellow support group member, and two recent transplantees  came to see me.  All were welcomed.  My friend from grade school/high school visited for 2 hours catching up and again, I enjoyed the visit.  I may have to admit that Jack Nicholson’s character from “The Bucket List” was wrong when he said the leading cause of death were visitors.

One surprise visitor was a former colleague from Austin.  A friend of mine from Facebook let her know I’m in Methodist Hospital.  She’s a social worker here and I knew her when she was a social worker at CPS in Travis County.  What I thought would be a 10 minute visit turned into an hour visit.  It was also the highlight of my day.  Then a phone call with a dear friend who also practices law in Austin called and made me feel useful as we ended up talking about one of her cases.  I’m beginning to realize how much I miss working.

Beth, my social worker who helped me score some sushi (forbidden post transplant) and a pet visit, sent two recent heart transplantees who stayed in the very room I’m in now.  They also got transplanted after being on a balloon pump.  Both are doing great now, playing golf and working.  All things considered, I’d be ok playing golf and working.

Today, Kyle and his mother are coming.  So, it’s to the point I have to accept the notion that visitors are a good thing during a hospital stay.  It no longer bothers me that I look like hell and am wearing hospital gowns which are uncomforting, unflattering, and embarrassing item anyone has ever worn.

I’m getting better since the pump has given me what is now 19 days of normal heart rhythm and normal heart rate.  I’m up to 6 laps around the heart ward and now have a small stationary bike, pedals actually, which I try to use 10 minutes every hour.  I now walk at a normal pace and feel I can actually run out of here.  The head doctor here told me I probably could and OK…for about 20-30 minutes. 

So, I’m getting better, stronger, and faster just like the $6 Million Dollar Man.  Pardon the reference if you’re under 40 years old, it’s an old TV series from the 70s.    I’ve got everything I need all of which result in no heart attacks, no arrythmias, and best of all, no shocks from the defibrillators.

Nothing New

I haven’t posted anything recently because there’s really nothing new to report.  The profusionist (pump operator), RN, and I continue with the daily walks but the physical therapists decided they aren’t needed.  So there goes a perk.  The balloon hasn’t moved and my heart continues to operate fine thanks to a big machine next to me.

Today is Saturday and I enjoyed watching the University of Kentucky basketball team beat Indiana.  I took great pleasure in the Army-Navy football game, a tradition for me since I was in high school.  Last year, Army’s uniforms included camoflauge helmets and jersey numbers.  Not the case this year, I guess the Army quarterback kept losing his receivers thinking they were plants.  Navy won again.  Later, Blanca brought me a surprise visitor…my poodle from home.  She spent  a couple of hours with me and returns tomorrow.  A real morale booster.

Another morale booster occurred Wednesday.  I spoke with the transplant clinic social worker regarding eating sushi and how I’ll miss it post-transplant.  She arranged for me to eat sushi for lunch that very day.  You have to love social workers, they save the world by solving one problem at a time.  Two heart recipients came to visit me.  Apparently, both resided in my room while waiting for their transplant and both received sub-clavian balloon pumps (though the chest like me).  It felt good to talk to them in that both are very healthy now.  One, Robert G., happened to be my age and we shared similiar interests and hobbies.  He originally told me about eating off the menu and pet visitation.

I keep reading on Facebook how everyone is preparing for Christmas.  I’m not seeing it here.  No Christmas tree or decorations.  Not a big deal though.  I possess other concerns.  I missed last Christmas suffering from the heart failure symptoms such as shortness of breath, arrhythmia, nausea, and absolutely no sleep.  Hard to sleep when you cannot breathe.  So all in all, this Christmas moves way ahead of last year regardless of decorations.

Tomorrow provides at least three NFL games.  My friends who came to see me last week are in Dallas to watch the San Diego Chargers courtesy of Ken S. the biggest Charger fan EVER.  Those trips are always fun and I miss hanging out with him and his wife Ann.  But the game is televised here in Houston, so I’ll be watching.

As this day comes to an end, I know the transplant arrives one day closer.  Philisophical I know, but for now, it’ll do.  Hope everyone continues to enjoy the Christmas season.

Profusionist, Balloon Pump, RN, Me, IV Pole

The Adventure Continues

The second week of my hospital stay at Methodist Hospital continues in full swing.  The main topic after a football-filled and visitor-filled weekend is the balloon pump, more specifically, the balloon inside my chest.  This balloon inflates with helium helping the blood output and thus taking the work away from the heart.  The location of the heart proves itself to be important in that the pump monitors so many vital signs that any dislocation means loud bells and other alarms.  Also, the doctors and nurses concern themselves that this machine clicks on all cylinders.

It’s easy for a doctor to move the balloon.  It’s done inside my room with no drugs or prep.  It’s also painless but the feelings are surreal.  Right now, except for the pump operating next to me, I feel nothing in my chest.  But when someone moves the balloon, I feel the balloon inflate and deflate for about an hour afterwards.  Then comes the flush where a nurse injects a syringe of saline into a tube leading to my chest, one strange sensation.  I’m not sure why, but after, I sleep about 12 hours off and on.  I don’t even know if it’s related.

I went for my walk yesterday with 3 pretty physical therapists, one of the few perks here other than not having heart attacks.  We talked about post-transplant physical therapy, kids, Tiger Woods, and…not much else since it’s not like we’re walking around Town Lake in Austin.  I do look forward to walking around Town Lake after this is over.  Anyway, after walking only 3 laps on Sunday, I was back at my personal best of 5 laps yesterday.

I feel I’m going to receive my heart any day now but somehow take each day, actually hour, one at a time.

Hospital Update

The reason the doctors at the Methodist Transplant Center decided to install the balloon pump through my chest rather than the more restrictive leg insertion included the exercise, though limited, I would receive by walking, sitting, and otherwise day to day activities.  When installed through the leg, the patient must lay on his or her back and not move.  Even with a short wait, the weakening of the body from inactivity stands as a roadblock to a quick recovery.

So, I have been able to take walks.  Not where I stand and go and explore.  No, a walk with a balloon pump includes an RN, a profusionist (pump operator/technician, and 2 physical therapists.  I started with one 400 foot lap around the ICU.  Yesterday, Saturday, I walked 5 laps without support, that is, no cane or walker.  I’m so getting ready for a marathon.

Last night, I received visitors from Mike and Nancy, Ken and Ann, and Don and Lisa, and Blanca who all came from Austin to visit me.  The visit lasted several hours and perked me up.  We watched the Big XII championship game which turned out to be 59 minutes and 59 seconds of frustration and 1 second of pure joy after Hunter Lawrence kicked a field goal with 1 second left to win by 1 point.  During the game, I texted with Angie, Carol, Rob, Marsha and Dawn.  It was crazy and it was fun.

This morning, Sunday, I woke up at 4 am to the alarms of the pump.  Pump alarms are very noisy and designed to be heard from outside the room.  I recieved visits from every nurse on the floor, the nurse practitioner, two profusionists, a cardiologist, a x-ray technician, and every other curious person on the floor came into my room.  Three and a half hours later, after a chest x-ray, the cardiologist pushed the balloon farther into my aorta silencing the alarms.  Now, I’m free to sit up, walk, and watch the NFL games.

The Balloon Pump...rolls on wheels

Another Week

After last week’s heart attack, I knew something needed to change.  You can only cheat death so many times and I was using my quota plus the allowable maximum of other people.  Heart attack, dangerously low blood pressure, arrythmias, defibrillator shocks and trips to the ER all had come together and I somehow managed not to die even though I felt rather close at times.

I got out of the hospital on the Saturday after my heart attack, more tired than I ever imagined.  Sunday, I had breakfast with friends, spent time with my grandson, and went to dinner with more friends.  The next day, Monday, I travelled to Houston for an appointment with my transplant clinic.

My doctor admitted me to the hospital and performed a cath (wire to the heart through the femoral artery) and reviewed the damage.  The cath showed I had a major heart attack but the damage was reversible.  As though that mattered.  No matter, I entered cardiac ICU.  I slept through the entire procedure and awoke to see another of my doctors standing next to me watching me.  He told me something needs to be done soon and to get some rest.

The next day, something that needed to be done got done.  Around noon, Dr. Estep reported the decision for me was to have a balloon pump installed into my heart.  The balloon is placed in the aortic arch and inflates when the heart relaxes pushing more blood into the body.  The pump is about the size of a dorm room refridgerator and hoses go in through the chest.  That was the funny thing about this.  They told me I was the tenth person to have this procedure through the chest.  Normally, the hoses go through the legs resulting in the patient needing to lay on his/her back the entire time.  I can walk, sit up, sit down, sleep on my side, and other functions deprived other patients.  I was going to ask what the success rate was for the surgery, but I was afraid the answer would be 90 percent.

The surgery proved to be a success despite the complication of them having to cut deeper than anticipated.  My first day after the surgery, I walked a lap around ICU, with the help of my RN, two physical therapists, and an operator for the pump.  Not bad considering the Fentanyl the nurses gave me.  The next day, with less Fentanyl, I walked two laps around the ICU.  I got cleaned up, sat up, and taken up to regular floor.

I’ve settled into my routine.  There can be no guess regarding the time of this routine in that I can be transplanted at any time.  The balloon pump moves me to the 1A list.  That means I can be transplanted tomorrow or a couple of weeks from now.  Either way, the pump makes me feel better than I have in years.  The extra blood takes away the lethargy and, best of all, lets me breathe deeply for the first time in over a year.  All I can say now is how grateful I am for my friends and family who support me, for not dying despite coming so close more times than a man has a right to and live, and for the doctors who used a little known procedure keeping me active so my transplant and recovery from the same will be easier.

The Most Not Excellent Adventure

After my ER/hospital stay 2 weeks ago and my transplant “dry run” last week, I welcomed my Thanksgiving plans of football and friends.  For the third week in a row, yet another heart related issue, one that I always anticipated yet never experienced.

I had my first heart attack.  Throughout the past 9 years of heart failure, I suffered every symptom of heart disease always expecting a heart attack.  Chest pains, shortness of breath, nausea, coughing have become so common, I sometimes don’t even notice.  Even when it happened, I never thought heart attack.

This time was different.  My left shoulder started aching to the point I couldn’t stand the pain.  It went from dull to pulsing.  Then came the nausea.  Then came the chest pain.  Then came lightheadedness.  Then came the ride to the hospital.

The first 30 seconds of the trip felt like 2o minutes in that I had passed out.  Another minute later, I felt the lightheadedness which always scares the hell out me because the only other time I experienced that kind was when I went into ventricular fibrillation (v-fib), as close to death as I’ve ever been.  This time, I fought it as hard as I could but to no avail.  Then my defibrillator went off while in the car.  I felt better afterwards but the symptoms returned instantly, not as bad, but got worse every second.

Arriving at the hospital, I thought I was going to have to wait.  At the mention of the word defibrillator, everything happened just like on a TV show.  A nurse raced me to room 6 (I know this because someone yelled it out) where three other persons were already waiting.  Soon there were three others.  If nothing else, it was impressive.  I described my symptoms to the doctor and after explaining the defibrillator incident, I felt the return of the lightheadedness.  As it happened I yelled out how I was feeling, heard the doctor yell, “CLEAR” and everyone took a step back.  The defibrillator went off, and the lightheaded feeling went away.

After that, I was rolled to the Cath Lab where a catheter was inserted into my heart through my thigh.  The cardiologist found an artery blocked off by a blood clot.  After he removed the clot, I felt a relief to the chest pain and I could breathe again. 

My doctors in Houston were called and everyone concluded that the clot formed because a blood thinner medication was discontinued so my transplant would not be complicated by thin blood.  The concern was thin blood would flow through the sutures in the transplanted heart requiring the chest incision to remain open and closed later.

After the procedure, one of the cath lab nurses transferred me to the ICU.  Some close friends came to visit and I got a visit from a priest.  An exhausting day.  I felt like a freight train ran over me.  I wish words existed to do justice to the pain and fear I experienced.  The only advice I can ever give would be, don’t have a heart attack.  It definitely is not a most excellent adventure.

Texas Longhorns Football

In my previous posts, I’ve written how hard this wait feels.  Today, with the excitement of last Sunday slipping away, I find myself missing one of my most favorite past times of my life, Texas Longhorn football at Memorial Stadium.

I began attending Longhorn games my first year at the university.  Back in those days, you spent like $60 a year for an all sports pass including home football games.  Of course, the program endured hard times in those days and the tickets meant 30-40 yard line seats on the east side of the stadium.  With the games came the tailgates.  Tailgates in the heat, tailgates in the cold, tailgates in the wind, tailgates in the rain, and tailgates in the sun.  Loved it.  A bunch of students acting crazy in a parking lot and then walking to the stadium.

After undergrad, during law school, the games were a family affair and taking my sons always made the games as fun if not more fun than when I went with my friends in undergrad.  After law school, I managed a fair share of games with Rob, Don, Blanca, Chris and anyone who let me tag along.  These were during the dawn of the Mack Brown years when success bred frustration and in one shining year, a national championship.

About five years ago, UT Law began sponsoring a tailgate which occurred once a year and was actually more of an informal banquet.  Free drinks and free beer included about 100 yards from the north end zone.    Tonight, before the Longhorn/Kansas game, the tail gate at the law school proceeds without me.  All will be ok in that nobody is indespensible and time moves on.  It’s just that I really wish I could go.

I did go to the UT/UTEP game earlier this year and ended up gettting swine flu two days later.  So, technically, I could ignore everything and go in this wet, dark, cold weather but I’d rather be ready should another heart become available and go to games for the next twenty years.

In the meantime, 90,000 plus fans have to get along without me as does the team in their march to another national championship.  I don’t know how they’ll do it.

Thankful For All My Friends

It’s been four days since learning my heart transplant did not occur due to the failed heart.  The reason the heart failed and failed so far into the process proved to be a rare occurence.  I went to clinic yesterday and discovered the reason for the heart failing happens in less than one percent of all cases.  My doctors have never heard of a cancellation so close to incision.  The exact reason remains unknown for privacy reasons.

Despite not getting the transplant, I can never express my gratitude for everyone who showed concern, who prayed, who called (even though the nurses didn’t), who posted on Facebook, and who have been with me during this wait.

There are too many to thank individually, but rest assured, I will always remember everyone.  To say I experienced shock at the outpouring of affection and concern understates how touched I felt.  All I can say is “THANK YOU ALL.”