I’m sharing this with all good intentions and hope that people may recognize good advice contained herein, should it ever apply to them.. On Saturday, September 11th, I was headed for Bel Aire, MD and a Kiwanis Division Council meeting to see the kind people who invested their trust in me and chose me as Lt. Governor, Division Six, Capital District Kiwanis. As I loaded Betty Olmsteads car for the trip, a large beast settled his weight on the center of my chest. I’d read about things like this and thought, as I pulled out of the driveway and headed for I-95 S, could it be something else other than my heart? Indigestion? Heart burn?
I actually debated with myself about keeping my word to Division Six and doing the 100 mile trek. But, as I approached the customary construction-caused traffic jam, the Good Lord sent me a message. There was only one lane that was moving — the exit to Delaware Avenue and the road to Wilmington Hospital.
I shot down the exit lane, turned right on the path I’d run many a 5k, down to Lovering Avenue and the road by the river. On the west of Wilmington Hospital, there is a cemetery (where they bury doctor’s mistakes) and when I saw the boneyard I knew I was close.
I turned right, went to 14th Street, across Washington Street into the hospital complex. I pulled in front of the Emergency Entrance (which can be seen in Betty’s photograph of me in the helicopter) and abandoned the car, went through security with magic words “Chest Pain” and was so grateful to security who did everything they could to speed my path. One got me a wheel chair and scooted to the sign in window. I signed my name and heard, “Take him to room B.” Swarmed by a bevy of nurses, I was set up for an EKG. (I’m hairy. Getting the pads to stick to my chest and give a good reading is not easy but they managed.” It was 14 minutes from presenting symptoms to this point. Remember this! I’ll be repeated.
The doctors deliberated over my EKG and one with what seemed like a bunch of authority approached me and said, “We’re transferring you to Christiana Hospital to the Cath Lab. We’re moving you to a different stretcher for the trip, taking you to the roof and putting you in the helicopter.” (Yep, the one in the picture.)
It was my first helicopter ride and, thanks to the gentle nurse who administered three doses of Nitro, I was somewhat less in pain and was planning to enjoy the experience as much as possible. Elevator 19 hustled me to the roof and I was wheeled inside the helicopter. Up, up and away! I could see the tallest buildings in Wilmington as they shot by and the Delaware River gurgling toward Delaware Bay. Eight minutes later, I saw the top of Christiana Hospital. We landed and I was WHISKED into the Cath Lab. A nice nurse said to me, ”This should be pretty quick. Don’t worry,”she continued,”It won’t be difficult on you. I’m giving you something through your IV to make o you relax”. I know what that means. I’m about to become stupid, but not too much so I couldn’t observe and listen.
“We’re going to insert the catheter through your wrist or groin, whichever is most productive.” They used my wrist because it worked. There was a camera and more on the catheter. Over me was another way of watching what they were doing as x-ray devices, motorized and on tracks, danced around above me during the procedure. I heard the cardiologist counting by twos. I learned later that was a count to measure the expansion of the balloon to clear my 90% blockage. I didn’t know I was also receiving two stents. The cardiologist came back to me and looked me in the eyes. “Does it feel better now?” I said “Strangely enough, it does.” And I was done. They shipped me to Cardiac ICU for the night to keep an eye on me and the next day, they moved me up to the fourth floor to make room for a genuinely sick person. It was my first time in ICU and it was a luxury! Push the call button and you got a person, not a voice over an intercom. The nursing staff that worked with me were professional, caring, empathetic and friendly. I don’t recall meeting a nicer group of people in a shorter time, but in the ICU and later on the fourth floor.
On the fourth floor, I had the privilege of working with Del Tech nursing students in training. It’s obvious that the standard, already very high, might possibly be challenges when this class of students get hired. Shawna was a star. Wow, how thorough she was. Julia, an RN who was my lead nurse for a shift, was unbelievable. I was made to feel like valued family. Once I hit my call button, Julia came in. and said, “Did you miss me?” I have to admit I did. “Well, you’ll have to get used to it. I’m at my end of shift and Monday, you’re going home.
Monday afternoon, I came home. I spoke to many of the nurses who asked me, “Any pain,” about my circumstances, listening to my body, obeying it and getting so quickly to care..They all repeated, “You did the right thing. All though the jury is out as to the degree of recovery you can expect, you’ve certain improved your odds for a pretty complete recovery.”
You know that fourteen minutes I spoke of earlier. It makes all the difference. I was an easier case because of it. According to the nurses, “Speed saves muscle.” Heart muscle, deprived of oxygen, dies if not treated quickly and can become scar tissue. Dr. Erin Fender is a cardiology, the partner of the doctor who did the catheterization, told me, “The human heart, with each pump, will move 55-60% of its capacity. It would be dangerous to do a consistently higher number. Your echo reveals your level at 35%. You’ve lost the difference. You’re going to go through Cardiac Rehabilitation Therapy for 12 weeks, where you’ll exercise while on a heart monitor. We’ll learn then how close you can come back to that 55-60%.”
I have 16 medications in yellow highlighter on my list that are brand new or (like my lisinopril) increased dosage. They are designed to help my heart recover, reduce the effort required to pump blood, keep my stents clear and beta block so natural chemistry in my body doesn’t fight my recovery. Being a geek, I computerized a list with the time of day for each — morning and evening — and a place to check them off. I’ve learned a bunch! I love the fact that Julia, the RN I mentioned above, gave me my second day meds, introduced each and told me the function and then quizzed me on what she said. I didn’t get an “A” on that test but, like all instruction, there was a lesson in the failures and I’ve taken pains to prep for the next exam. It’ll probably never come, but I’m ready with answers and that was her intent. I’m very grateful
Also, I’m grateful to all those who prayed for me, tended to me, cared for me, took my call button seriously, and shared their humanity. I’m now in love with a whole bunch of nurses. The guards at the Wilmington ER Door couldn’t be more caring as they were when helping this guy who said, “Chest pains,” get through the metal detector, into the wheel chair and up to the ER admission window. Dr. Wimmer (sic?) who did my catheterization procedure is my new best friend.
How could I fail to love and thank my friends for their prayers, good wishes and support. Both you and God have blessed me and I’m in awe.