I have recently had the privilege to join a closed group on Facebook. None of you get to be a part of this group...
It is for SCAD survivors. Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection Survivors. In other words, we have all had a tear in one of our arteries, typically suffered a heart attack..and lived to tell others about our ordeal.
Reading the entries from some of the women who have recently suffered from this brings back so many awful memories. My heart aches for them and all that they are going through. I know, I've been there..
Here is my story
On August 20, 2001, I woke up around 8 am to run and use the bathroom before my new baby needed to nurse again. He was 13 days old and our third. We lived in a split foyer at the time. My two other children, Zac 8, and Mikaela, 5 were afraid of the thunderstorm and had come upstairs to sleep on our floor. It was my first day "alone" with my kids. Had they spent the night downstairs, in their rooms, I probably would not have made it...
When I got to the door, I had a sudden pain in my back. My teeth hurt, my arms went numb and I felt unable to breath. I stumbled across the hall to the nursery and collapsed into a huge blue recliner. I called to Zac and told him to get a towel, wet it, and sponge me down..I did not want to pass out.
I told Mikaela to get the phone so I could call 911.
When Zac brought back the towel, it was a giant bath towel..soaking wet. I looked like a scary wannabe in a wet t shirt contest by the time he got done with me.
I'm so thankful that I was indeed alone with the kids, because I firmly believe that I would have gone back to bed knowing my husband could take care of the kids...and I would be dead.
Zac was able to get a neighbor to come down and take care of them..I called my husband, who actually answered..a miracle because they hadn't opened yet.
I also called my parents who lived 2 hours away. My dad always traveled on Mondays to various golf courses, but on that day he decided to play at their local course...
The paramedics took me to a local hospital, where I had just had my baby 13 days before.
They were unable to get a line in me because my body was beginning to shut down.
Once at the hospital, I was hooked up to the EKG machine and told that I was having a heart attack. Just then my husband walked in..we were shocked.
Unfortunately though, they thought it was due to a blood clot. The hospital was not equipped with a cath lab, so they were just guessing. I was given a clot buster. Of course, that was the worst thing for a dissection. After 45 minutes, and a load of morphine, they realized it was not working. I had to be airlifted to the local trauma hospital...ironically enough, it was where I was born 34 years previously. Thank God it's not where my life ended.
As I was being strapped in the helicopter I remember the nurse asking me if I was in any pain. I told her I was not, but that I was claustrophobic...her response was, "Then I'm glad we're in the big helicopter!"
Just for the record...It was NOT a big helicopter...it only fit the pilot {pretty important}, the nurse {equally as important} and me. My husband was told to meet us at the hospital. It was a 40 minute drive, and he was on empty..of course.
The next 2 1/2 days I was asleep..medically induced sleep. But here is what I've been told.
I was rushed into the cath lab, my parents had arrived at my house and told I was having a heart attack and that they needed to go straight to Fairfax hospital {trauma one}, my best friends made a million calls, and the doctors told my family that they had 20 seconds to say what needed to be said because I was going in for open heart surgery.
Again, I have no memory of this, but apparently, when I was told I needed open heart, I asked the doctor if it was the only way. He said, "Yes, and if you were my wife, I would still recommend it".
This part is still hard for me to think about..I turned to my parents and asked them to take care of my children. I guess I knew that I may not come out alive....so sad.
My surgery lasted 41/2 hours. My family was told that I may not make it and that my heart was having great difficulty in recovering.
That was a Monday. Monday night, my mother in law looked at my nurse {I was assigned my own nurse 24 hours a day} and asked her if there was any hope...The nurse looked her straight in the face and replied, "there is always hope". I ended up making it through the night and Tuesday was the most difficult day for my husband. My friends told me that he sat at the foot of my bed and just wept {as I am now reliving it}. He didn't know how he was going to go home and tell out children that their mother had died.
My dear, dear friends Emily and Stephanie were allowed to go and sit with Dave. The hospital policy only allowed 2 people in the ICU rooms but they made an exception..very grateful for that.
Throughout my whole ordeal, the thought of him sitting there not knowing is a pain that hurts so deep. I can't even imagine what was going through his mind. He said that there were so many tubes coming out of me that I was unrecognizable. He would watch them fill a syringe with white chalky food and insert it in my feeding tube. I had a giant breathing tube, not to mention the giant chest tubes inserted for drainage.
The doctor kept coming in trying to decide if I needed to be cut back open for another procedure. My heart kept going into crazy rhythms and they were not sure it was going to relax on its own.
I made it through another night. On Wednesday, they decided to try and bring me out of sedation.
I cannot be more clear...The breathing tube was the absolute worst part of the whole ordeal. I hated it. It made me feel claustrophobic, paralyzed etc. It was awful. I continually gagged on it, felt like I was choking to death, and needed to have it suctioned out..constantly!
Part 2 coming soon...
Unfortunately though, they thought it was due to a blood clot. The hospital was not equipped with a cath lab, so they were just guessing. I was given a clot buster. Of course, that was the worst thing for a dissection. After 45 minutes, and a load of morphine, they realized it was not working. I had to be airlifted to the local trauma hospital...ironically enough, it was where I was born 34 years previously. Thank God it's not where my life ended.
As I was being strapped in the helicopter I remember the nurse asking me if I was in any pain. I told her I was not, but that I was claustrophobic...her response was, "Then I'm glad we're in the big helicopter!"
Just for the record...It was NOT a big helicopter...it only fit the pilot {pretty important}, the nurse {equally as important} and me. My husband was told to meet us at the hospital. It was a 40 minute drive, and he was on empty..of course.
The next 2 1/2 days I was asleep..medically induced sleep. But here is what I've been told.
I was rushed into the cath lab, my parents had arrived at my house and told I was having a heart attack and that they needed to go straight to Fairfax hospital {trauma one}, my best friends made a million calls, and the doctors told my family that they had 20 seconds to say what needed to be said because I was going in for open heart surgery.
Again, I have no memory of this, but apparently, when I was told I needed open heart, I asked the doctor if it was the only way. He said, "Yes, and if you were my wife, I would still recommend it".
This part is still hard for me to think about..I turned to my parents and asked them to take care of my children. I guess I knew that I may not come out alive....so sad.
My surgery lasted 41/2 hours. My family was told that I may not make it and that my heart was having great difficulty in recovering.
That was a Monday. Monday night, my mother in law looked at my nurse {I was assigned my own nurse 24 hours a day} and asked her if there was any hope...The nurse looked her straight in the face and replied, "there is always hope". I ended up making it through the night and Tuesday was the most difficult day for my husband. My friends told me that he sat at the foot of my bed and just wept {as I am now reliving it}. He didn't know how he was going to go home and tell out children that their mother had died.
My dear, dear friends Emily and Stephanie were allowed to go and sit with Dave. The hospital policy only allowed 2 people in the ICU rooms but they made an exception..very grateful for that.
Throughout my whole ordeal, the thought of him sitting there not knowing is a pain that hurts so deep. I can't even imagine what was going through his mind. He said that there were so many tubes coming out of me that I was unrecognizable. He would watch them fill a syringe with white chalky food and insert it in my feeding tube. I had a giant breathing tube, not to mention the giant chest tubes inserted for drainage.
The doctor kept coming in trying to decide if I needed to be cut back open for another procedure. My heart kept going into crazy rhythms and they were not sure it was going to relax on its own.
I made it through another night. On Wednesday, they decided to try and bring me out of sedation.
I cannot be more clear...The breathing tube was the absolute worst part of the whole ordeal. I hated it. It made me feel claustrophobic, paralyzed etc. It was awful. I continually gagged on it, felt like I was choking to death, and needed to have it suctioned out..constantly!
Part 2 coming soon...
No comments:
Post a Comment