Look alive with Seventy-Five!
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Look alive with Seventy-Five!
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Dear ’mates: Here is the unabridged version of Tom Kelley's birthday week: I had a birthday last month. I turned 58 years old. I almost didn’t make it. I arrived at work at the DEA on 16 May 16 2011 at about 6:30 a.m. I checked e-mail then went to the cafeteria for coffee. As I was walking back to my office (OK, it’s a cubicle), I began to feel a little dizzy. I sat down hoping that I’d feel better – I didn’t. Besides feeling dizzy, I had wide-spread pressure and pain in my chest; very sore forearms; and extremely tender ‘jugulars’ along my neck. I am not a doctor, but this didn’t sound good. I called Carole who googled the symptoms and quickly called me back. She told me that the symptoms indicated that I was having a heart problem and said to go to the DEA clinic. The DEA clinic is small but staffed with a nurse, a medical assistant, and a doctor. The clinic is primarily for DEA employees (Federal employees) but will treat anyone if there is an emergency – I was an emergency. The nurse took my vitals as I was describing my symptoms. My vital signs were fine but the nurse was concerned with what I had told her. She said that I needed to go to a hospital or clinic for further diagnosis. She said that I could travel by ambulance or someone could give me a ride. Believe or not, at this point, I told the nurse that I was feeling better and could probably go back to work; she was not having any of that nonsense. Meanwhile, the doctor came in to the office and received a brief from the nurse. The doctor told me that I wasn’t going anywhere until I had an EKG. I was quickly ‘hooked up’ and watched the needles jump along the paper. The doctor looked at the strip and said to me – quite calmly – “You are having a heart attack” and told the medical assistant to call 911. While waiting for the emergency medical team, the DEA doctor gave me four aspirin and a nitroglycerin pill; I was also given oxygen. Within minutes, the rescue personnel arrived – five very serious-looking people. An IV was inserted, many questions were asked, and I was moved to the gurney for the trip down the elevator and outside to the waiting ambulance. Cal and Kyle were not too sure what was going on; I gave Cal my rings (wedding and USNA) and cell phone (I should have kept it). The doctor asked for my home phone number so she could call Carole. The hospital (Virginia Hospital Center) is about five miles from DEA. It has a Cardiac Catheterization Lab, which – among other things – has the capability to insert stents. The ambulance ride was short and uneventful. The technician in the ambulance continued to monitor my vitals and gave me a couple of sprays of a nitroglycerine solution. He was in constant contact with the hospital. Ironically, I had worn my ‘marathon’ necktie to work that day. The tie depicts several dozen people running in a marathon. The technician saw the tie and asked if I was a runner (actually, he asked if I was a jogger – I quickly corrected him). Once at the hospital, I was wheeled into the Emergency Room and a treatment room – no waiting (it seems that heart attack patients get everyone excited)! Like a well-orchestrated fire drill, there were at least a half-dozen medical staff inserting this and that, asking questions, and assuring me that everything would be fine. Since one’s birth date is a key part of the medical record, everyone was wishing me, ‘Happy Birthday’. I took that as a positive sign – they thought that I would be around to celebrate it. After about five minutes, I was off to the Cardiac Catheterization Lab. The staff was waiting for me. The lead cardiologist, Dr. Antonio Parente, was calm and reassuring. They slid me onto the main table and his assistants began to prepare me for the procedure. This was the first time that I realized the severity of the problem and what they planned to do. Everything was done in a methodical, straight-forward way; each step was explained to me. The nurse asked if she could remove my trousers; I had to help her with the top button. A little bit of shaving and sterilization and I was almost ready to go. The last thing I remember was Dr. Parente telling me that they were going to insert a probe in my artery near the groin and then … I passed out (or, actually, I had a cardiac arrest). It is hard to describe what happened next. I wasn’t really dreaming nor did I see St. Peter. Bizarre flashes. White lights. But I was suddenly jolted back to the real world. I had been ‘shocked’ or ‘defibrillator-ed’. It felt like electricity went through my body (which, I guess, is what happened); my body also leaped off the table (it seemed like a foot but I’m sure that it was only a fraction of an inch). Now that the doctor had my attention, I said to him, “What was that!!??”; Dr. Parente said that he would tell me later (apparently, he was busy). Regardless, the procedure was over before I knew it. I stayed awake for the remainder of time. Dr. Parente said that a stent was successfully inserted in my left anterior descending (LAD) artery and that I should be feeling relief and lessened chest pain. I did. Almost nothing. Amazing. Then he told me that I had a cardiac arrest on the table so they shocked me back to life. Dr. Parente said that having a cardiac arrest is not typical but they are always prepared in case it happens. The defibrillator ‘pads’ are placed on the patient’s chest as part of normal preparation; the nurse only has to ‘press a button’ if a shock is required – I only needed one button-push. I was a more likely candidate for a cardiac arrest since I was an emergency; more often, stents are inserted under non-emergency circumstances. Dr. Parente said that if I was going to have a cardiac arrest, I couldn’t have picked a better place (not that I has much say in the matter). Later, I found out that the emergency and ER technicians were glad that I didn’t have a cardiac arrest under their care; the survival rate is less than 5% and they probably couldn’t have saved me. Well, everything else is anti-climatic. For the rest of my time in the hospital, I was under observation. Many visitors and even more phone calls. And for the doctors, I had a lot of, “Why me?” questions. Dr. Parente had no idea why it happened (and he calls himself a cardiologist!) – except for the fact that I had a blocked artery. But why? Here are the factors that contribute to heart disease, which lead to blocked arteries: (1) smoking; (2) overweight; (3) high blood pressure; (4) high cholesterol; (5) lack of exercise; (6) diabetes; and (7) poor diet. For me, that is seven, “Nos”. Another factor is family history. Although I need to investigate some more, I do not know if that applies to me. I know next to nothing about my father’s side and nothing stands out on my mother’s side. I asked Dr. Parente if I wasted my time eating well, exercising, etc. He said that I did nothing wrong and that the heart attack was not caused by my life style. As a matter of fact, he said that he probably would have seen me five to ten years earlier if I did not have a healthy life style. Dr. Parente said that, sometimes, seemingly healthy people have heart disease and can die unexpectedly. He summarized his thoughts as, “Sometimes things happen and we don’t know why.” One his colleagues told me that they don’t like patients like me – they like someone with obvious underlying problems. What about stress? The American Heart Association says that there is not a direct causal link between stress and heart disease – at least formal studies have not confirmed it. Stress can contribute to high blood pressure, which a factor in hear t disease. And certainly a stress-free (or stress-reduced) environment is good. I’m not too sure what a stress-free environment looks like, but it is something that I will explore. I was discharged about 80 hours after I was admitted – incredible. So what is next? Dr. Parente expects 100% recovery. None of my other arteries showed any blockage, which is unusual in people with heart disease. My heart had some damage from the heart attack, which is to be expected. That damage (pumping capacity) will improve with time. I have to take four different heart medications – I will be weaned from two of them within a year. I won’t have any long-term restrictions to any activities. I will attend cardiac after-care sessions to see how I can improve my diet and if I need to change how I exercise. Transcendental meditation (or a variation of this) is also an option. For those of you who are wondering if the heart attack was a ‘sign’ to change my ways or to refocus my life, I have believe that the answer is a resounding, “No”. I am not a perfect person and I certainly can make improvements. But there is not much that I would or could change. I am torn between thanking God for letting me live and being mad at God for not preventing the heart attack in the first place. I will leave this discussion for the theologians in the group. Regardless, I am happy that I am here to share my story with you. … ’75 Sir! Larry |
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