I have become comfortably numb.

On my sunrise walk this morning, it occurred to me that I am now entirely without agenda. I don't have any plans for my day or for the week or anything that needs to be done in the next minute, hour, day or week. It's an odd place to be, and I'm not sure I'm okay with it, but then again, it is what it is.

Back when I had a life, I usually had this mental list of things I had to get done before noon, before the end of the work day, that evening and sometime during the week, but I honestly have nothing of the sort anymore. Sure, there are things I plan to do: some dishes, a bit of laundry, sort through some financial stuff, but honestly if none of that kids dune today well *shrugs*...

On more whimsical news, two of my cats decided to join me on my one mile sunrise walk. They followed me for the longest time before I even realized they were there. Once I acknowleged them they came up and walked with me, one to either side as if they were guarding me against any rodents that might cross my path. I'm not sure why they decided to do this, but it was amusing.

As for my health; everything continues to get a bit better each day. My sternum probably gives me the most trouble, but the pain pills seem to make this not so bad. My temperature has settled in at about 97 degrees and the thermostat issues are not so drastic. I even feel a bit better on each successive morning walk. I'm not ready to head back into life quite yet, but I can see that there will be light at the end of this tunnel.

There is no pain, you are receding. A distant ships smoke on the horizon....

Jack

Let's see Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance, okay let's go with Anger

I was up at sunrise for another mile walk before the neighborhood awoke. I'm feeling a bit better today, napped a lot, talked to Dr Mom twice and blah, blah, blah.

I'm going to fast forward to the heart of the matter, no pun intended. I was out shopping with my daughters today and we stopped for lunch. We stopped, God forbid of all places at McDonald's. Which apparently means that I'm stupid and I'm going to have to schedule another heart surgery within a few months or something. Or so I hear...

Here's this thing, my heart surgery doesn't give the people around me the sudden high moral ground to pass judgment on every decision I make in my life of what food to put in my mouth. Honestly, it is insulting to suggest that somehow it's all been that simple; that I ate myself into my heart problems.

So I'm going to sum it up for the person who made these comments and everyone else who seems to think they can comment on my diet and lifestyle: Fuck off or be prepared to to get the same in return. I can be a big grievent flaming asshole right back. Everything that happens to you both personally and medically can probably be oversimplified into something simple and insulting. You want to play this game? Well game on...

On the other hand if you want to discuss such things civilly I'm more than happy to explain things including how I got here, and how I plan to not be back here again. And then let's talk about your health for a bit...

Jack

Greeting the sunrise

I was up to greet the sunrise this morning. We sat on my front porch steps, with my cat (Jack) even though I am certain both the sunrise and the cat had somewhere else to be.

Though in the normal course of my life, I do not see many sunrises, I have always enjoyed that part of the day. And I just clarify that by saying that we are talking about a Michigan summer sunrise here. Winter sunrises often happen late in the morning after most of us are at work so they aren't quite the same.

So I listened to the birds sing and watched the neighborhood wake up around me and even dozed a little bit while I sat there. I then took the opportunity to get a nice walk in before the sidewalk people were out. I did ten blocks this morning which I think is close to a mile. During the day I think I am a bit a scary sight, lumbering along with a half limp and glazed eyes. I imagine that parents pull their children inside when they see me or cross the street to avoid me. And this may happen for all I know, but I don't really worry so much. I'm out for a walk, not human interaction.

As I enter my first full day of this recuperation at home process, I too time to catalog everything involved in my rehabilitation.

There's my heart which is flush with fresh supplies of blood, but still reeling from exposure to the air, the surgery, and having been stopped for period of time during the surgery. I find that piece of knowledge odd as I can not imagine myself lying on the table, heart unbeating while they worked on me. Nor do I care to imagine those breathless moments when they restarted my heart as if they were jump starting an old Toyota (now does the ground wire go on first of last I can never remember). Anyway, my heart is recovering without much intervention from me. A walk or two each day plus these special socks which help the blood circulate is all it needs.

The lungs get kind of beat up all the way too. Being under anesthesia doesn't help and fluid build up during bed rest is almost a certainty. I have this little plastic device the I have to suck air through several times a day. It doesn't exercise my lungs, but it does make sure I keep taking deep breaths which is all the lungs really need. My lungs are doing fine at the moment, but not yet ready to receive cigar smoke again.

The digestive track is another matter. Now I'm going to spare any gory details, except to say the entire process beginning with the anesthesia works to slow down digestion. Not stop it, just slow it down. So when a meal normally could pursue it's course in 12-36 hours, it now takes closer to a week. The big downside to this is that I entirely lack an appetite which means I eat very little, and I have to believe that at some point a lack of nutrients is going to be a problem. They assure me that this problem will take care of it's self.

My thermostat caught me by surprise. In the last few days in particular my body has had a hell of a tough time regulating my body temperature. I've been hovering a couple degrees below 98.6 which isn't even the bad part. The bad part is that at any given moment I can be either sweltering or with the chills. External regulation just sets me up for a bad roller coaster ride. I'll be cold so I'll through a blanket on and three minutes later I'll be sweating, throwing the blanket off just brings the chills even worse. And a cup of coffee or tea will mess me up for hours. Once again, I am assure that this is normal and will work it's self out. I just hope that happen sooner rather than later.

My breastbone and ribs are also working on repairing themselves. Mostly this requires me to take it easy on this part of my body. Which sounds simple until one considers that anything we do with our arms pretty much affects the chest as well. Try getting out of bed with out using your arms sometime, it's not as easy as it seems, though I have almost mastered the process.

The incisions have so far been the easy part. They don't give me much pain or trouble. I clean them each day and leave them alone for the most part. The leg incisions to give me a bit of a limp, but that will pass with time.

Oh and too finish my catalog I have to mention all the other marks and scars on my body. The worst is my neck where three different tubes went in at one time. I hear this looked real nasty though I never did see it. The site is very tender and the muscles are sore, making it difficult and painful to turn my neck very far in either direction. The rest of the areas, including all kinds of patches of red, itchy skin where something was taped down, will be find with time.

At the completes my catalog. I'm not looking for sympathy, rather I would like to create a list of what to expect for anyone who should have the surgery done after me.

Jack

Home now

I am writing this post from my little table in the corner of the living room where I spend most of my computer time. As you might imagine, I've been released today, this morning actually.

The last few days in the hospital were nothing special. Each day was spent keeping the demons of pain at bay while trying to be more active. I'm still a bit tired and groggy so I won't fill in too many details now. Everything went very well; nurses, doctors and family were all pleased with my progress.

I managed to get a shower between naps today which gave me a chance to assess the full battleground that is my body. On the whole, I can't complain since I knew what this was going to entail. There's a nice long scar down the middle of my chest, a couple of half moon shaped scars below that where the chest tubes were placed, some deep cuts in the leg and a whole slew of dots and bruises from all the other equipment. For some reason the lower half of my left thigh is a beautiful shade of periwinkle, but they tell me that's not alarming.

I will provide more details over the coming days, but I tire now. I want to thank everyone for their kind words, well wishing and good vibes. I especially want to thank my daughters who weathered this storm I put them through like champions. I would also like to think my mother who managed the people managing my medical care without pissing anyone off too much.

Jack with a new heart...

First off, the last blog was not one daughter it was a combination of his two daughters and a family friend. Although, any one of us would like to take full credit for it we cannot unfortunately.

Next, dad's recovery is fast and fantastic. He was called a "champion patient" last night, and we are all constantly hearing how well he is doing and how quickly he is recovering. He woke up yesterday and was talking and visiting with family. He looked a tad zombie like but it is expected. Today when we visited him, he had more color in his face and was talking better. He was sitting up and eating some breakfast and doing his breathing exercises as well. Dad is looking and acting extremely well, and he should be moving out of the ICU and into his new room late this afternoon.

Third, we would like to ask that no visitors arrive at his hospital unless we have talked to you personally.

Finally, it is really great to see everyone looking out for him and checking back at this blog so often. I'm sure once he sees how many people have been reading this he will be impressed and flattered. We would like to make a special thank you to all the snopesters out there. We know of our support here in Lansing but it has been very touching to see so many of you from all over who care as well. Thank you all for keeping our father in you hearts and prayers.

P. S. I'm sorry that this entry lacks the common humor of the previous ones.

And the outcome is... *drum roll*

My father's heart surgery went fine. He had a double bypass, his arteries and everything are good. He is in intensive care right now, and should be out in about 24 hours. He has a nurse all to his own for the next day and she stated that he was recovering well. He hasn't woken up yet, but should within the next 12 or so hours.

On a side note, his gender reassignment also went as planned. He picked out his new name yesterday and he... she would prefer if you call her Loretta Jacqueline Foxy Sxxxxxx. She is very happy with the outcome of her surgery and I can officially state that I have two mommies.

My new mother also got some collagen injected into her lips so she can look like her idol... Angelina Jolie. It looks very nice on her and she is now thinking of adopting two Cambodian children.

The nurses that were helping with the surgery were very amused by the blue toenails. They were a bit afraid to ask about it at first but L. J. Foxy does not have any shame.

Also, Jack (L. J. Foxy's cat daughter) is missing his mother as well. He is wandering around the house meowing. It's almost moving, if it weren't a cat.

Thank you for keeping my father... now mother in your hearts and prayers. We will update again later to keep you all informed.

And with this, I slip off to the dark side of the moon

Final post before the surgery and I don't have too much to say, just a bad analogy and a couple of comments. Let's start with the analogy.

Before the space shuttle program we had the Apollo program. Now I pretty much grew up with Apollo, but I realize that to later generations it's just history and history that isn't often taught. See we'd launch these complex craft on huge rockets. They'd circle the earth, or circle the moon or even land on the moon before returning for home. And then we'd have this big dramatic moment when the craft was re-entering the atmosphere. It was dramatic, because it was dangerous, but also because during this time we wouldn't have any contact with the astronauts. Then they'd break free into the atmosphere, hail Houston and everyone would cheer as we'd watch the capsule descend under three billowing white parachutes. The capsule would land, and then it would be retrieved by a waiting ship. The astronauts were then put in quarantine where they could talk to, but not touch their loved ones for a few days.

So why am I talking about the space program? Because my whole heart deal reminds me of the space program. Did I mention this would probably be a bad analogy? I see the surgery tomorrow as being that re-entry. I'll be off where nobody can communicate with me in my little coma. Everyone will hold their breath and I'll open my eyes to everyone's collective sigh of relief. But the thing is, the surgery is dangerous, but it's the necessary path home. And honestly, the dangerous period has already passed, the months I've been living with a 70% blockage in my coronary artery. This is exactly as it was with the Apollo program; by the time they entered atmosphere most of the dangerous stuff was behind them. And that's where I'll be tomorrow; with the danger behind me, doing what I need to do to come home.

With that out of the way I have a couple of observations and then I am off to get a couple hours of sleep before the morning. I figured out a while ago, that being a patient is the easy part, all I have to do is lay in bed and try to get better. The people who are going to sweat out the next 24 hours while I lie in a near-coma they're the ones that have the bad end of the deal here. And all I can say to all of you is that I'm sorry, I'll be home soon and it will all be okay.

And the last thing I have to say is that I'm not good at this. I'm not supposed to be the guy lying in the bed. I'm the one who sits at the bedsides, or paces the hallway, or does what has to be done to make it easier for others. I don't know how to lay in bed and let others worry about me. It's not what I do, it's not what I'm supposed to do, it's not what I want to do. I know I'll be okay, I just wish I didn't have to put everything through this to get there.

Slipping into the atmosphere, I'll be back here soon, I'm coming home...

Surprises and none of them good

Today I had my pre-operative appointment which amounts to four hours of counciling, 'splaining, signing and being poked and prodded. It was far from what I would call a positive experience, but then again I didn't expect to spend the four hours eating cake and ice-cream anyway.

It all started with a 'pastoral visit' which means the hospital's clergy du-jour stops in and has a chat. I suppose it was just in case I needed to get something right with God, or confess something, or maybe just so I could have someone to talk to. She was kind and polite though I am not sure exactly what denomination she hailed from, something vaguely Christian I think. Fortunately, she was not intrusive at all.

Next up was the nurse who in addition to bringing a 'goody bag' also brought lots of paper-work. Now the goody bag wasn't exactly full of goodys, rather it was full of mostly plastic medical things that just made me curious in a not good way. I'm going to spare the details, but none of them were exactly welcome presents. The paperwork was chock full of disclaimers and a lot of words to remind me that lots of bad stuff could go wrong, and if it did it wasn't really anyone's fault. She also gave me all kinds of information on what to expect post-op and quite frankly none of it was real good. She actually said that it is common for patients to be terrified by all the contraptions they are attached to when they awake. Thanks, feeling better now already.

Then the anesthesiologist paid a visit. A nice guy who seemed to mumble at my charts in between imparting valuable nuggets of information on me. Yes, you will be on a respirator when you wake up. And you'll be tied down so that you can't take it out on your own. You'll also be heavily sedated, so much so that you probably won't remember it (more on that later). Yes, you will also be on a heart/lung machine during the surgery which means your heart will be stopped during the surgery. Oh, and we run some extra tubes into your wrist and carotid artery to monitor stuff. Add those to your wire/tube inventory for when you awake. Incidentally, I think that total inventory amounts to thirteen wires, four tubes and the respirator, but I'm sure I've missed something. Yes, you will absolutely look like crap when you wake up; you'll be pale and pufffy and generally zombish, though not as lively. Then he imparted one last nugget of information; some people remember more than others. You see, some people remember being on the respirator, and some people remember the surgery and oh yes that includes the pain of the surgery, but that's a pretty rare occasion so don't worry about it. Okay feeling better now.

What could possible be next? Well I had a chest X-ray which was uneventful and an EKG which was also uneventful and then they saved the best for last. That's right the blood draw. Now, I'm scared of needles, but I'm prepared for being poked so I already have this worked out in my head. But the blood drawing person says we're doing this special type of blood draw that requires arterial blood and yes it is quite painful. I've been around enough medical professionals to know that when they say it's going to hurt, it is going to hurt. They didn't disappoint me either, I was a bit more than nervous and explained this to them. They had this great idea that I should just keep talking while they poked the artery in my wrist 'cause that would relax me. Didn't work, as a matter of fact I was so tense that the needle bounced off my artery repeatedly, and I felt each bounce. One word; ouch. This means only one thing, time to try the other wrist. This time I waved them off and asked them to forget the 'keep talking' plan and just give me a minute to collect myself. I went 'away' to my 'ice cave' and managed to relax enough to get the blood drawn. My reward: pressure bandages on both wrists. So now I look like I must have been suicidal.

That's all I have to say for now, can't wait for the big day and all...

The story of my heart

This is the first entry in the Blog I set up for my heart and my heart surgery. That's an odd thing to blog about, but I have my reasons. I've had an almost overwhelming outpouring of good thoughts and well wishes as I prepare for my surgery. So much so, that I worry that when the surgery happens and during my recovery it will be almost impossible to keep everyone up to date with traditional means, the telephone. As a result, I've decided to create this blog, which I will update until my surgery, turning the reigns over to my daughters while I am on 'the dark side of the moon' and incapacitated. This will be the definitive source for information on my heart surgury, so please make a habit of coming here rather than using the telephone. You can leave notes and questions which we will endeavor to respond to in a timely manner. And once I'm feeling better I will make a point of contacting everyone to chat.

So with that out of the way, I'll fill in a bit of history for anyone who is interested. I'll skip the first 31 years of my life and cut to the chase.

For a while I worked at a large international company which I just refer to as the empire. I was a supervisor of about 20 people and lead a team or closer to 40. Our mission was to create and install a software package in the 40 international affiliates of the empire. Our first stop was Mexico where I spent close to three months solid working. As often as not this meant 20 hour days, seven days a week. In one particular two week period I put in more than 250 hours of work, averaging less than five hours of sleep a night. Needless to say this was a very high stress part of my life and the fact that I also chose to stop eating for the most part during this time probably didn't do my heart or body any favors. I dropped weight at an almost unimaginable rate. Anyway, after three months of this, I caught a plane at 5am followed by three more planes to make it home in time for Halloween, arriving at 6:30pm. Exactly a week later, I awoke to crushing chest pains and within days was recovering from my first heart surgery. That was an angioplasty.

Fast forward ten more years and I'm starting to have some symptoms again. This was last year, April I think. I was on this fitness kick which went well for a while until I realized that I could no longer make it more than a half mile on foot without feeling an odd pain in my shoulder. An odd pain that stopped once I stopped exercising. A few tests and a week later found me in the hospital. Another angioplasty, this time with a stint (a little wire cage to keep the artery open). During this operation they found that I had an artery in the lower region of the heart that was 100% closed. At the time, we didn't think it was a problem, and it probably isn't. That summer my daughters and I spent two weeks in Peru, including two awesome days climbing all over Machu Picchu. Magical, and totally impossible had my heart been giving me any problems.

Which brings us close to the present. About a month ago I realized that those odd shoulder pains had returned. After a few tests my cardiologist didn't think it was anything to worry about. However, at the insistence of both my general practioner and myself my cartiologist agreed that a catherization was in order. A catherization involves running a tube from the femoral artery into the heart, injecting die and taking a picture. The pictures were not so good, with a pretty ugly blockage very near to my aorta. To cut to the end of the story, the only option is bypass surgery which will fix this new blockage and that 100%-er from last year. I'm not going to go into any gory details, I'll leave that to the imagination or Google.

So here's the plan: I'm in the hospital at 6am on July 19th, surgery begins at 8am and is expected to be over by noon. Then there is a week in the hospital and a fairly long recovery at home (probably another four weeks at least). Am I a little bit scared, well that reminds me of what my instructor said just before my first (and last) skydive. There's only two types of people at this moment; those that are scared, and those that are liars. So yeah, I'm a bit scared, but not scared that something bad is going to happen, just scared of the unknown. Once, I get to the other side of the surgery, know the outcome and where I have to recover from, the fear will be gone.

And that's all I have to say for now. If you have questions, just add a comment. If you don't then you can still add a comment.

More later...