One year on from heart-stopping moments

Yesterday marked a year since my double open heart surgeries. Though I am a member of two Facebook support groups for this I do not identify as a ‘Heart Warrior’ or a ‘Zipper’. I prefer to put it behind me, despite multiple setbacks. It’s just yet another of my grand adventures. But this first anniversary does deserve some reflection. 

 I am grateful to have been completely unaware of the drama that was unfolding, especially of the reasons for the second opening-me-up and then wiring my chest back together. I do not remember ICU. I do not remember the post-op transition ward. I remember only some of my two weeks on the cardiosurgical ward. Some of it is muddled due to hallucinations and my brain and body focussing on other priorities.    

During those brutal surgeries I did not see a tunnel with a light at the end. I did not see angels or hear a voice telling me to stay or go. There was simply nothingness. Medical staff seem to have had some difficulties getting me to wake up. I suffered atrial fibrillation for most of my stay there and one of my first memories is of wearing a Holter monitor around my neck which sent my heart data live via telemetry to a base station somewhere in the hospital. I remember being conscious of my hands for the first time and seeing strange bulbous, yellow stumpy things attached to huge arms. There was significant oedema. Most days I slowly got better. I was determined to reclaim a life.

Though I seem well now I would not say I feel ‘normal’ as I have probably never been that, heartwise. I get tired easily and hot weather is particularly taxing. Despite having a new replacement mitral valve, the years of heart over-effort have created some negative changes to the structure of  my left ventricle. Maybe it will remodel itself now, or not. I am very aware of everything my heart does: every beat, squirm, heart rate. It is not always comfortable in my chest and reminds me it is not always at ease with itself. My surgeon told me, on the only visit I had from her in the hospital, that my heart had not liked being manhandled. On the 8 March 2022 my heart which had faithfully tried to keep beating for 66 years was stopped, twice. It was manhandled as necessary during the operations and restarts but it didn’t like it and threw wobblies (arrhythmias). Some of us have hearts that are particularly sensitive to being touched. Apparently that was the case for mine, she said.

During some of my more difficult challenges and setbacks through the long recuperation and doing all I could to help myself improve, I did wonder if it would have been better to have just not survived that first surgery. I wouldn’t have been the wiser. My affairs were in order. It’s a normal reaction, but if life has taught me anything it is that you can never see around the corner and just maybe there are things worth doing and enjoying as I go along. Hang in just a bit longer and see what good might happen. I have been given a year of life I would not have otherwise had. Perhaps there are many quality ones ahead.

I have dreams and hopes which others would find far-fetched or even reckless. I have survived tough stuff throughout my life and my heart surgeries may not be the last. It is probable I will have to face more heart surgeries in the future because my new valve will not last. In the interim I want/need to fill my life with wonder, excitement, doable challenges because without them it’s stagnation and not really living. I don’t want a non-life in some sort of holding pattern which so many settle for as they get older so I'm trying my best to be the healthiest and strongest I can be.

Coming back from the brink means, for me, making the rest of my life count for something. Love, in all its forms, is the means. I’ll follow my heart as it has followed me, and hope we will together find comfort and contentment along the way.