Wide Awake

Throughout my thirty-plus years since birth, I watched as some of the people around me lived carelessly. They ate, drank, and smoked whatever and whenever they wanted to. The life they were living was one of convenience and consumption, rather than choice. Ignorance equaled bliss. And those folks were not alone: I was right there with them.

My perspective changed when my father’s many health issues were brought to light a year after my mom passed away. Diagnosed with diabetes, hypertension, heart disease, and kidney failure, it would seem like he got hit with a slew of problems at once. The truth of it was, Dad had never been to a doctor since before he came to the US as an eighteen year-old. For him, not knowing something was wrong was synonymous with everything being right.

After witnessing my father's complications, I decided that not knowing was not enough. This led me to finally go to a doctor after seven years. It pushed me to not settle for the “you’re too young to have heart problems” diagnosis. And it influenced me to experience my angiogram in a unique way.

The purpose of an angiogram (or heart catheterization) is to indicate if there are blockages that could cause problems during my surgery or that could be fixed while I’m already “open”. The procedure involves the insertion of a long catheter into the femoral artery, which is directed through the circulatory system until it reaches the heart. Once there, it injects an iodine dye. When this contrast is released, an x-ray camera is able to see and photograph the flow of blood into the heart. The entire process seemed fairly interesting to me and relatively simple. But the more I heard or read about it, the more I realized how complex it would really be.

In the days leading up to my angiogram, I began to worry. When compared to the May 26th “Main Event”, it was to be mild opening act. However, my concerns stemmed from some of the risks involved with the procedure:

• With renal complications in my family, would the contrast damage my kidneys?
• Would I have a more severe allergic reaction to the dye than I did during my recent ER visit?
• Will the catheter dislodge a clot and cause me to have a stroke?

My cardiologist was extremely successful in dispelling these fears during our pre-op visit. He even gave me a choice to be either awake or asleep during the heart cath. I winced at the thought of being conscious while someone poked a hole in my leg, weaved a wire through my inner-workings, and squirted dye into my ticker. The whole idea seemed so strange yet - even as I threw the hospital gown over my birthday suit on the morning of the procedure - I hadn’t quite made up my mind.

While waiting in solitude on the gurney before the angiogram, I tried to remember how this journey began. I recalled the difficulty of seeing both of my parents wrestle with their health complications, the struggle I had with a doctor who wouldn’t listen, and the revelation that I would have to undergo valve replacement surgery. The choice suddenly seemed obvious. My experiences and the lessons that I learned from them drove me to one conclusion: I had to be awake…I had to know.

En route to the cath lab, I was temporarily intercepted by my wife. Upon hearing of my decision to remain conscious for the procedure, she was “amazed” and “impressed”. It was calming to be with her and to have her support in my choice. I immediately felt more relaxed and even a little goofy – enough to snap a corny picture in the elevator.

He's got a Ticket to Ride!

After the angiogram was over, I felt so satisfied that I was awake and alert for it. Despite the initial pain during the insertion of the catheter sheath and the awkwardness of having another dude Bic my pubic hair, it was an amazing experience. It was interesting to feel the catheter travel through my body while watching it on the monitor. Most importantly, it was a relief to hear that - aside from Nemo and my aneurysm - everything was perfect.

My cardiologist and his team were a fun bunch that had a witty sense of humor and good taste in music (the U2 Pandora station was streaming in the lab). They were great hosts that answered all of my questions and welcomed my wife in when it was over to brief her on how it went. The crew even played back a “highlight reel” of the procedure for me. Very cool, indeed.

The bruising and soreness from the heart cath persisted for almost two weeks - much longer than the 48 hours that it should have lasted. In fact, the pain hung around for so long, my wife and I gave it a name! Angie and Nemo were often the topic of conversation during our Spring Break trek to the Grand Canyon. The trip served as a tribute to my late parents (who cherished the national landmark) and as a last pre-op hurrah for me. It was an ideal time and place for me to reflect on my past and my journey to come. Though my fear of the unknown may be a deep and vast chasm, when I choose to rise above it to an existence awakened, I allow myself to be truly alive and at peace.

Sunrise over the Grand Canyon, East Rim (Photo by http://www.kenjirei.com)