Feb 15: 5 year anniversary tomorrow
February 16, 2004 was the day that I walked into my office and said that I needed an echocardiogram. I'd been back from Egypt for three weeks and was having the worst asthma attack I'd had for 10 years. The pulmonologist had me on huge doses of steroids, plus mini-nebs every 2-3 hours. My coughing and wheezing had substantially decreased, so I'd decreased the mini-nebs, but I still felt horrible. Terribly short of breath and almost not able to function from the fatigue. The pulmonary doctor had put me out of work for two weeks, and that Monday I was trying to work a half day. I did an admission from the ER and was feeling so lousy that I just wanted to go home. But the day before it had occurred to me: what if there is more wrong than just my asthma? Why am I not feeling any better even if my lungs seem improved? So, I figured that maybe I had caught some strange virus or bacteria in Egypt and had developed a myocarditis, which is an infection that causes inflammation of the heart muscle. It made sense.
Unbelievably, I never listened to my heart. I can't say why. I just didn't.
So, I told my boss and came to the office to get an echo. I was very good--I didn't look at the screen while the tech got the views. Why look? Myocarditis often doesn't show even on an echo, and that's certainly what I had.
My first clue that there was something was when the tech wouldn't say anything, just asked if the doctor was still there. I just said "Oh". I don't remember having any other thoughts. I just wanted to get dressed before ME came in the room, since getting an echo involves being naked from the waist up and you don't want to be dealing with co-workers just wearing a paper vest which conceals nothing. And all the goo from the echo (which is an ultrasound) is messy and gets everywhere.
My second clue was when ME wouldn't look me in the eye when he came in the door. Just said with a strange tone of voice "Well, let's see what we've got here." Then he pushed the play button and, for the first time in my life, I saw the image of my heart. In one second I knew what was wrong--it was that obvious. It was horrible, the worst I had ever seen. A massive, thick, abnormal mitral valve with leaflets flopping all over the place and two jets of blood going backwards.
The first thing that went through my mind? "My life is never going to be the same again." I don't think that I was capable of processing more than that. It was shock. Total shock. Disbelief. Just that life was now permanently, irrevocably, terribly altered. And I hadn't had a clue.
ME asked me why I hadn't told him before that I had mitral valve prolapse, to which I responded that I hadn't known. He said I had to have known, I said I didn't. This was repeated a couple more times, almost like a comedy skit, except there was no laughter. The fifth time he said, with voice raised, "Laurie, you had to have known--this is really bad!" And, as much as I could raise my voice while gasping for breath I responded "I can see that, but I DIDN'T KNOW!!!"
How could I not have known? How? How could this have been inside of me without my having a clue? I'm a cardiology physician assistant with 10 years of experience. How could I not know? How did this happen? Why had no one ever heard anything?
One of the other cardiologists walked by, ME called him into the room and told him that he would be looking at my echo, tried to give him a heads-up before he saw the screen. RL couldn't contain himself--he was so shocked. All he could get out was "Oh my God...."
Yeah. It was that bad. The worst any of the cardiologists that I work with have ever seen, with about 100 years experience between them. To this day in the office, my valve is what other people's bad mitral valves are judged against. Although they seem to have managed to diminish it somewhat over the years....
I was short of breath with a racing pulse because I was in moderate plus heart failure. How could I not have known? The pulmonologist was pretty freaked out as well. He had made the mistake of only listening to my lungs, because that's what was wrong. Known history of asthma, only 41 years old, clearly wheezing and with a low pulse ox and borderline pulmonary function tests. It was my asthma.
It's a toss-up as to which the worst day of my life has been: February 16, 2004 or February 28, 2007, which was when I was told that I needed a third open-heart surgery. For the first one I was in shock, I was so calm that ME and RL didn't think that I really understood just how bad it was. Even after they said the words "heart surgery someday". It was just too much to process. So my emotions just shut down and I was very calm. I actually left the office to go to the other hospital and do a consult in the ER. Drove home, stopped at the grocery store, went in the house and just sat on the couch, staring at nothing.
I don't remember having a reaction then. Despite several phone calls and saying it over and over I remained eerily calm. I'm sure that I had a reaction at some point in the days that followed, but I don't remember it. The whole thing was so unbelievable, so surreal. How could this have happened? How could I not have known?
The consult in the ER? A 49 year old woman with advanced ALS--Lou Gehrig's Disease. One of the worst diseases to have. Gradually increasing paralysis with full ability to feel pain and full mental function. She was short of breath, so the decision of whether to be on a ventilator while waiting for the paralysis to hit her heart or to just die more quickly of the respiratory muscles paralysing was going to need to be made. I finished the consult, walked out of the ER, leaned against a wall and had a talk with myself: "OK, what you have sucks. It isn't fair. You didn't do anything to deserve it. Life will never be the same again. But at least you don't have a deteriorating neurological condition with no cure or real treatment for. There are plenty of people worse off than you. No whining." Nothing like a little perspective.
As I mentioned before while describing my reaction, there's a lot of repetitiveness in what goes through your mind. A lot of the same words repeat, because, well I don't know why. Maybe because the brain is so overwhelmed that normal variations in expression are just stunned. I've seen it in other people as well after a major shock or emotional trauma.
So that's the story. This day in Laurie's history. Thanks for checking in, Laurie
Unbelievably, I never listened to my heart. I can't say why. I just didn't.
So, I told my boss and came to the office to get an echo. I was very good--I didn't look at the screen while the tech got the views. Why look? Myocarditis often doesn't show even on an echo, and that's certainly what I had.
My first clue that there was something was when the tech wouldn't say anything, just asked if the doctor was still there. I just said "Oh". I don't remember having any other thoughts. I just wanted to get dressed before ME came in the room, since getting an echo involves being naked from the waist up and you don't want to be dealing with co-workers just wearing a paper vest which conceals nothing. And all the goo from the echo (which is an ultrasound) is messy and gets everywhere.
My second clue was when ME wouldn't look me in the eye when he came in the door. Just said with a strange tone of voice "Well, let's see what we've got here." Then he pushed the play button and, for the first time in my life, I saw the image of my heart. In one second I knew what was wrong--it was that obvious. It was horrible, the worst I had ever seen. A massive, thick, abnormal mitral valve with leaflets flopping all over the place and two jets of blood going backwards.
The first thing that went through my mind? "My life is never going to be the same again." I don't think that I was capable of processing more than that. It was shock. Total shock. Disbelief. Just that life was now permanently, irrevocably, terribly altered. And I hadn't had a clue.
ME asked me why I hadn't told him before that I had mitral valve prolapse, to which I responded that I hadn't known. He said I had to have known, I said I didn't. This was repeated a couple more times, almost like a comedy skit, except there was no laughter. The fifth time he said, with voice raised, "Laurie, you had to have known--this is really bad!" And, as much as I could raise my voice while gasping for breath I responded "I can see that, but I DIDN'T KNOW!!!"
How could I not have known? How? How could this have been inside of me without my having a clue? I'm a cardiology physician assistant with 10 years of experience. How could I not know? How did this happen? Why had no one ever heard anything?
One of the other cardiologists walked by, ME called him into the room and told him that he would be looking at my echo, tried to give him a heads-up before he saw the screen. RL couldn't contain himself--he was so shocked. All he could get out was "Oh my God...."
Yeah. It was that bad. The worst any of the cardiologists that I work with have ever seen, with about 100 years experience between them. To this day in the office, my valve is what other people's bad mitral valves are judged against. Although they seem to have managed to diminish it somewhat over the years....
I was short of breath with a racing pulse because I was in moderate plus heart failure. How could I not have known? The pulmonologist was pretty freaked out as well. He had made the mistake of only listening to my lungs, because that's what was wrong. Known history of asthma, only 41 years old, clearly wheezing and with a low pulse ox and borderline pulmonary function tests. It was my asthma.
It's a toss-up as to which the worst day of my life has been: February 16, 2004 or February 28, 2007, which was when I was told that I needed a third open-heart surgery. For the first one I was in shock, I was so calm that ME and RL didn't think that I really understood just how bad it was. Even after they said the words "heart surgery someday". It was just too much to process. So my emotions just shut down and I was very calm. I actually left the office to go to the other hospital and do a consult in the ER. Drove home, stopped at the grocery store, went in the house and just sat on the couch, staring at nothing.
I don't remember having a reaction then. Despite several phone calls and saying it over and over I remained eerily calm. I'm sure that I had a reaction at some point in the days that followed, but I don't remember it. The whole thing was so unbelievable, so surreal. How could this have happened? How could I not have known?
The consult in the ER? A 49 year old woman with advanced ALS--Lou Gehrig's Disease. One of the worst diseases to have. Gradually increasing paralysis with full ability to feel pain and full mental function. She was short of breath, so the decision of whether to be on a ventilator while waiting for the paralysis to hit her heart or to just die more quickly of the respiratory muscles paralysing was going to need to be made. I finished the consult, walked out of the ER, leaned against a wall and had a talk with myself: "OK, what you have sucks. It isn't fair. You didn't do anything to deserve it. Life will never be the same again. But at least you don't have a deteriorating neurological condition with no cure or real treatment for. There are plenty of people worse off than you. No whining." Nothing like a little perspective.
As I mentioned before while describing my reaction, there's a lot of repetitiveness in what goes through your mind. A lot of the same words repeat, because, well I don't know why. Maybe because the brain is so overwhelmed that normal variations in expression are just stunned. I've seen it in other people as well after a major shock or emotional trauma.
So that's the story. This day in Laurie's history. Thanks for checking in, Laurie
posted by Laurie @ 10:14 PM
1 Comments:
At 10:19 PM,
Anonymous said…
Laurie,
thanks for logging your thoughts, these are things that one can never really know unless going through it. I do believe this has helped me hopefully to be a better friend in the future if faced with someone going through something huge.
Thank you for sharing a private portion of your life. I am glad you have made it through all of this! I believe you are helping a lot of people by your willingness to share your fellings and personal private thoughts. Even with sometimes being someone's punching bag when they don't agree with you.
Deneen
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