My Heart Cath

Prior to yesterday’s heart cath my wife Lynnette and I were fortunate to visit with a cute little boy named Grant and his parent’s Kyle and Allie. Grant was born with HLHS and needed some repair work on his liver, which was shaped like a horseshoe around his other organs. But, gratefully, after many prayers and good medical care, Grant is on the mend and doing better. Doctors need to keep him in the pediatric intensive care unit (P.I.C.U.) for another couple of weeks before Kyle and Allie can take him home. In the meantime, his parents have an RV they can stay in parked at the hospital. Kyle has been attending school in Logan, Utah.

While in the P.I.C.U. we saw many familiar faces and had a brief conversation with one of my surgeons. We also learned that little Jack Trent is recovering very well from his Fontan and they hope to take him home soon.

As for my cath, we checked in at noon and waited with other same-day surgery children. I always enjoy sitting in there as the only adult going into a procedure. Toys are everywhere. There was one woman telling her grandson how to play his video game. So I pulled out my Iphone and played a golf game.

We were called into a room after 30 minutes. They checked my vital stats and had me take off my clothes and put on a gown. Doctor Gray came in and we discussed the procedure, which would be my third cath since being listed for a heart last August.

My anestiologist came into the room and we discussed how they wouldn’t put me completely under like the children but they would give me an anti-anxiety drug and another causing amnesia. (In my childhood I remember being awake for most of these caths although they now put the kids completely out).

After saying goodbye to my gorgeous wife I walked into the cath lab which looks like an operation room. There were several nurses and techs prepping the room. We joked about the temperpedic mattress on the narrow operating table. We laughed about many other things as I laid flat on the table.

They hooked me up to machines and began a slow drip of the drug in my picc line. Once the drip was going they put an IV in my left hand so I could have my 24/7 medication Mileranone running into my picc. I continued joking about my vulnerable situation. The radio was playing “round and round” by a metal band called RATT. I hadn’t heard that song in a long time. I mentioned, “you’re putting me out to this 80s song?” Slowly, I faded or drifted off and the procedure went forward.

I remember talking through the procedure although I was very sleepy. I felt the wire going into my body through an artery in my left groin area. It was somewhat uncomfortable, but not painful. It’s like being at the dentist after they’ve numbed you and you feel the pressures of the drill in your mouth but no pain. Doctor Gray checked my heart's pressures, the stent he had put in six months ago, and clot off a large collateral artery.

I awoke in the recovery room surrounded by other children in their beds, plenty of nurses, and a lot of movement. I have to be honest I felt extremely uncomfortable and had a lot of anxiety. I’m not sure if I had a bad reaction to a drug or if some evil power overcame me. I was discouraged and mentally drained. I felt like the character Andy in The Shawshank Redemption trying to escape through the narrow tunnel he had spent years try to dig to his freedom.

After an hour Lynnette put my socks on my feet. I put on my shirt and eventually the anxieties went away. I became calm and asked for some food. I asked my nurse for the popular root beer slushy many have grown to love. I downed a few of those and by 10:30 pm we were able to pack up and head home after getting a dose of antibiotics through my IV, which they would remove. I still have a large bandage over my left groin that I’ll take off in a few hours.

In the midst of suffering I try to remind myself that it does end. It might seem like a million years away. But, the pain ends. Some suffering last our whole life – but it ends. I am comforted by my faith and knowing there is a loving God who does not find joy in our suffering but finds joy in what it makes us become.

(Pictures: Top - Grant and his parents Kyle & Allie, Middle - Me and Lynnette, Bottom - With my Mom whose spent years in a children's hospital with me)

106 days on the list. 15 weeks. All is Well.

106 days on the list. 15 weeks. Any predictions?

Despite the minor physical anxieties of waiting for a heart, always wearing oxygen, taking a bazillion pills, giving myself shots twice a day, and carrying around a bag of medication going directly into a permanent IV in my right arm, I have the larger anxieties experienced by those who are sick for a long time and happily married. Keep in mind that I am too tired to stay busy so all you have to do all day is think and reflect. Above all, you hope your wife, the love of your life, is happy, fulfilled, and appreciated because of her sacrifice, service, and love.

My dad is a journalist and once interviewed one of my hero's Howard Hunter, a former spiritual leader of the LDS church and community giant. The man was soft spoken and humble despite his enormous list of credentials and accomplishments. In the interview my dad asked about all the years that Pres. Hunter tenderly cared for his sick wife who later died in a rest home. "How where you able to do that all those years?" my dad asked. President Hunter with some emotion and pause in his voice said, "She would of done the same thing for me."

I'm also reminded of another time that I was at Bryner Clinic in Salt Lake to see my family doctor. While waiting I observed a feeble old woman waiting for the pharmacist to complete her prescription. She was with her husband. They were both very old, petite and weak. She sat in a wheel chair and was so tired that her head kept falling backward. And I watched this husband, who stood by her side, hold her head up, even though his hands shook and they had to wait for some time. I think he held her head for 20 minutes.

I also remember while serving a mission for my LDS church I was responsible for several missionaries of which were an old couple serving in a small mining town in California. Like all of our missionaries they were responsible to knock on doors and share a message of love about Jesus Christ. The wife had really bad arthritis and knees. At many times she couldn't use her legs because of the pain. But, she didn't want to give up. Her husband drove them in the car from house to house. He would get out and knock on the door while his wife waited. If people said yes to letting them he'd go to the car, open the door, pick up his wife and carry her into the home so they could do what they loved to do most which was bring hope to people through their message.

These several experiences that I observed are always on my mind. And I hope I get the chance to show the same expression of love and service for my wife who has so kindly sacrificed, served, and loved me through this experience. It is much easier to serve than to be served.