And I ain’t talkin’‘bout the diamonds!

cardiac ablation: a procedure used to scar or destroy small areas of the heart by use of heat in sections that are causing incorrect electrical signals resulting in abnormal heart rhythms.

My interpretation:  a really sharp needle that participates in setting my newly constructed heart on fire…

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

Ok, that may have been a somewhat “over-the-top” impression, but come on!  You should know me by now, constant reader… that’s how I roll!

After all the data was collected from the EKG’s and multiple monitors, I was called by the Cleveland electrophysiologist that I saw while getting the echo and sniff test done.

He explained that the PVC’s were pretty predominant on all the monitors and that he recommended me to see one of their electro docs that specialized in ablations…

Unfortunately, days before the call, we found out we were headed back to Cleveland for a family funeral on my husband’s side.

I explained this to the Cleveland doc, and he managed to arrange for me to be worked in to see one of his specialists while I would be in the area.

He also reminded me that I needed to prepare to stay a few extra days, just in case the doctor felt like an ablation would be needed.

At the time, I was once again an emotional wreck, but looking back on this, I cannot say enough about how accommodating the Cleveland Clinic and its medical staff are when it comes to their patients. Amazing!

Sadly, we attended the family funeral on that Monday and while I did my best to try and stay focused on consoling the grieving family members, my mind couldn’t help but loom back to what might be in store for me the following day.

Upon leaving the family gathering that afternoon, my husband and I decided to drive about thirty minutes away from the outskirts of Cleveland, and stay at Punderson State Park.

The Lodge, an English Tudor style mansion built in the 1920’s, overlooks Punderson Lake, and has quite the colorful history, colorful enough to almost distract me from my early morning “date with destiny.”

click here to read more about Punderson Manor

We explored the grounds and hiked the trails until the sun fell behind the encompassing tree line that circled Punderson’s crystal clear waters.

Hoping to be exhausted from the previous wandering expedition, I laid wide awake in bed, while my husband snore dreamily in slumber beside me.

In the darkened room, I found myself in a stare-down with “Bucky” the state park’s stuffed animal deer mascot who was conveniently placed in our room for both “welcoming” purposes, as his little sign explained,  as well as that of marketing, I imagined.

Had we been traveling with the grandkiddos, I’m sure “Bucky” and one of his identical twins, might would have found a new home in Virginia.

He sat there on the desk across from me.  His black plastic button eyes steadfast.

“And Bucky’s the winner!” I threw in my towel.

I rolled over, thinking of the smell of a cold and sterile surgery room.

Trying to imagine what that fire singeing heat might feel like…  And, would I be asleep?

Oh Dear God!

I hadn’t even looked that up-whether or not I’d be asleep?!

What was wrong with me?! This was pertinent information!!!

“Bucky’s” little victory had worn me out, almost extinguishing this blazing mind inferno that I had started.

As much as I wanted to know right then and there, in the wee hours of the morning, I was too tired to google it…

 

Early the next morning, and pulling up to the circular entrance way of the Sydell & Arnold Miller Family Heart and Vascular Institute, otherwise known as building “J,” my husband and I both felt much like veterans now.

We knew the ropes. We’d been there, done that, and got the heart pillow!

We handed over the keys to the clinic valet and let him take over, something that took us several visits to learn, weighing out the cost and time of doing it yourself.

At the front desk, my heart was checked in to have its regular EKG upon arriving.

I was then sent up to see the electrophysiologist.

“Dr. B” we’ll call him, was a very knowledgeable doctor who was from India. He described himself as once a “plumber of the heart” (an interventional cardiologist) that developed an interest in cardiac electrophysiology, now defining himself as an “electrician of the heart.”

“Dr. B” used his experience and humor to make me feel more than relaxed about my current situation.

He looked over all my records and talked to me in length about my symptoms and my PVC’s.

I liked and respected him, and trusted his judgement, regardless of whether it was to do the ablation now, or not.

I felt confident in whatever his decision might be.

Once again, I thanked God for such a learned professional on my side.

His conclusion was that he wanted to send me back home with another twenty-four-hour monitor before making any further decisions.

I was once again hooked up and sent on my way back to Virginia.

On our way home, as we were approaching the West Virginia border, well after office hours, I received a cell phone call from an unknown number.

I answered it, it was “Dr. B.”

He explained that after I left, he went up and conversed with my Cleveland cardiologist whose office was one floor above his.

Both agreed to slowly decrease and stop my dosage of metoprolol, just to see how I felt and how it affected my bothersome symptoms.

He explained that this process, which would take almost a month to completely end the medicine altogether, would need to be monitored very closely by both the doctors and rehab nurses at home, as well as my team there in Cleveland.

Both doctors also agreed to decrease the amount of my daily aspirin intake as well. He reiterated that it was important during this time for me to keep a close eye on my blood pressure, heart rate and symptoms during this process.

I returned home, recording my data once again of all the lightheadedness and dizzy spells I had during this last twenty-four-hour monitor test. I then packaged it up, and dropped it in the mail the next day where it traveled back to the Cleveland Clinic.

About a week later, I received another call from “Dr. B.”

He had reviewed my monitor results, and although the PVC’s were still evident, they appeared to be decreasing! He felt like an ablation was not warranted at this point, and wanted me to check in with him about two weeks after I had stopped taking the metoprolol.

In the meantime, my local cardiologists and my rehab nurses continued to share data on my heart readings with the Cleveland docs to monitor the occurrences of the PVC’s.

During the week between taking the miniscule dosage of metoprolol and before ending it completely, I began to notice something…

The lightheadedness and dizzy spells seemed to be coming less frequently! And as the weeks went on, they were very few and far between.

Both doctors checked in and were pleased to hear that my “episodes” had almost diminished all together, this also including most of the PVC’s!

By mid-November, exactly six months after my surgery, I was being to feel somewhat ‘normal’ again!!

Thank You God!!!

One doctor explained it best when he told me, that, “For forty-six years, your heart has pumped a certain way, and then we up and changed the whole course of the way it was used to pumping! Of course it might ‘freak out’ a little bit, until it gets used to the new way of delivering that new amount of blood throughout your body!”

Never thought about it that way, but it makes sense…

If my heart’s anything like the rest of my person, it doesn’t acclimate to change very easily!

I remember talking to another open-heart surgery patient before my surgery. He was a very conditioned athlete and described his recovery as, taking him, “about six months to feel completely normal again.”

Six months…

And that’s where I was.

Not the magic “six-weeks,” when I longed for a miracle to happen, but six months…

It takes your heart and your body time to heal and adjust, and your heart makes up its own time table.

It’s important to remember that EVERYONE is DIFFERENT. And each recovery is different.

I have a heart sister in California who just had heart surgery two weeks ago, and seems to be tackling a lot more compared to where I was at two week’s post-op!

The most important thing is to, literally, take it one day at a time.

Don’t rush yourself, or your heart. Sometimes in doing just that, you may prolong your complete recovery. Take it from me, I know this from experience!

The fact is, that you WILL recover after open-heart surgery, but on your own personal calendar.

The sooner you realize this, the sooner you will begin to see your “normal,” or possibly your “better than normal,” returning!

After all my heart and I have been through,

I can attest that there is a “happily ever after!”