I had a heart cath yesterday.
To be honest, I feel too young to have heart issues. But my wife graciously reminds me that I am 52. (Thanks, honey 🙂 ). A lifelong American diet of fried foods, juicy hamburgers, buttery biscuits, and crispy bacon doesn’t help any either. (My diet has gotten better, by the way, but it is still hard to pass up a bacon cheeseburger for a fresh, leafy salad.)
My cholesterol level has always been a little high. My dad has had heart issues. And two separate stress tests revealed signs of a blockage somewhere. Something called ST-depression consistently showed up in both tests.
My cardiologist (a phrase you apparently start using more after age 50) recommended a heart cath to see exactly what was going on. I shuddered a little bit. So he offered me an alternative path…a coronary calcium scan and an echocardiogram…to see what they revealed. Since neither one of them involved pain or a thin catheter traveling up my arteries, I chose the alternative path.
The calcium scan revealed mild to moderate build-up in my arteries.
The echocardiogram revealed that my heart valves are functioning normally and that the gel they use is excessively cold.
It was amazing to lie there and watch my own heart beat on a monitor. It is something you take for granted every day. Yet it beats 60 times per minute, 100,000 times per day, 35 million times per year, and about 1.75 billion times by the time you reach my age.
All on its own…without my knowledge or control…keeping me alive.
Or at least that’s the goal.
Anyway, after all that was over, I was back in my cardiologist’s office about a month later staring at the heart cath option once again.
“You don’t have to get a heart cath. We can keep monitoring this over the next few years.”
“What would you do if you were in my shoes, Doc?”
“Personally, I would want to know and this is the best way to know. And the procedure has become pretty standard and safe. You do have signs of heart disease and you simply can’t ignore that.”
So the heart cath was scheduled.
It sort of hung over me for a few weeks…weighed on me.
I was nervous about the procedure. I hate needles. I am allergic to pain. The thought of blood tends to make my blood leave my brain and travel southward. I have passed out on a few occasions and have felt light-headed with cold sweats on many others.
I also still carry this illusionary but comforting thought that I am still young. Too young to have heart issues. Too young to worry about my health…about heart attacks…about death. But my age betrays me…along with my increasing aches, decreasing hair, and the aforementioned gracious reminders from my wife.
So the day finally came…and thankfully, it wasn’t too bad.
I got a nice gown and stylish yellow, non-slip socks…a comfortable bed with a heated blanket…and a free shave on my arm and wrist with a complementary one on alternative catheter sites in case the wrist didn’t work. I won’t go into details.
The worst part was getting an IV. Usually my veins are pretty good but the nurse said she hit a valve (whatever that means) and had to adjust the needle. Not fun. And the light-headedness and cold sweats started.
But once that was done and I regained some blood to my head, the rest of the procedure was great…primarily because I don’t remember much of anything else.
They wheeled me into the operating room…or, better, the heart cath control command center with TV monitors and screens all around…none of them playing ESPN or HGTV. About seven or eight people gathered around me, asking questions, applying electrodes, making small talk, covering me with blankets, strapping down my arm, putting oxygen in my nose, and rolling a cold, wet sponge all over my wrist.
The next thing I know I was out. No countdown or anything. I guess they call it “twilight sedation” but I don’t remember anything except feeling a few shots going into my wrist.
By the time I woke up, I was back in the recovery room.
I couldn’t tell you if it had been five minutes or five hours.
My wife said that I answered a few questions when they were wheeling me back to the room…but I don’t remember a thing. I hope I answered the questions correctly. I hate failing tests.
I was in and out for the next two hours…waking up, eating a light lunch, and then drifting back off with some little cap naps. No pain. No discomfort. No nausea.
A few hours later I was back at home with some tight bandages on my wrist, bad bed head hair, and an abiding relief that it was all over.
Bottom line…they found no blockages. Just one spot with about 20% build-up of plaque. Something to monitor but nothing to worry about for now.
It is amazing.
The very thought that they can travel up your veins and arteries and explore your heart from the inside. It sure beats the days when they had to crack you open every time they wanted to repair your heart.
I am thankful for medicine.
I am thankful for skilled doctors and nurses.
I am thankful for technology.
But most of all I am thankful for God’s incredible design of the human body.
It is He who gave me my heart. It is He who enables it to beat. It is He who gives me each breath on this earth.
It is He who sees me and knows me from the inside out.
While my physical heart beats…sustained by His power…my spiritual heart grows…overwhelmed by His grace.
Both my hearts praise Him for I am fearfully and wonderfully made!
I love this nation.
