Member Profiles

HENSYLEE

About 7 years ago during a very stressful family situation, I woke in the middle of the night with a lump in my throat that I could not swallow. Xrays showed it to be beginnings of hiatus hernia - many people have this, including my mother, my dr and many friends, so it is common. It got worse and was dxed as GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease). It was painful in the throat and jaw area, radiating up toward the ear. Treatment was tagamet, prilosec - drugs of that sort, raise the bed 6 inches at the head, eat early dinners, etc. 

As time went along, I could recognize the beginnings of an "attack" and would be very still until it passed. My borderline high blood pressure became truly high and the dr prescribed drugs for that, too. He advised me to reduce cholesterol intake. One day, he said I "could have a heart attack or stroke" and we must bring down this pressure. As time passed, I had painful attacks more and more often, had shortness of breath. Neck, shoulders and down to elbow would get extremely "tired". Upon walking short distances, I just felt I couldn't go on. 

One day last December while at the doctor's office for a visit, he told me to get to the hospital - don't pass go - don't drive myself - go and they would immediately admit me to ICU for tests. They did and found nothing, but the dr scheduled a cardiologist appt in Jan. He also prescribed Atenolol, a nitro patch and nitro pills to carry. I used the nitros from time to time, but never seriously considered that I had heart trouble - DUH!! I continued to do, happily, all the things I have always done, suffering and smiling through. I am always a happy camper and look forever on the rainbow side of everything, ignoring the sometimes obvious "other side". On December 28, a pain started mid-chest, so I took one of those little bitty nitros, waited - no letup in pain; took another one - waited - no letup in pain; took another one - waited - no letup in pain. They say if three don't help you should call an ambulance. I just took another little bitty nitro, waited - no letup in pain. Sooo I called the dr's office and told them. They said get to the hospital, but they didn't call the ambulance, either! I called my SISTER. She took me to ER, they checked me, did ECG, gave me a propulcid for the GERD (which, by the way, they took off the market the next week because it causes heart attacks). I still complained of left shoulder pain after I had been there awhile and the dr said it was only muscle pain, while she moved my left arm around. They sent me home!! I was so very ill, I cannot imagine how I functioned at all, but I went to the cardiologist as arranged, we talked, and I, being the happy smiley person that I am, had him also convinced I was NOT a heart patient, but we would do a stress test anyway to be sure because heart disease is very prominent in the family. 

Well, lo and behold, I almost didn't make it up to 130 (whatever that is - pulse, I guess) on that stress test bike, and after the test they told me
there was trouble in there and we would be doing a catheterization. After the cath, the surgeon appeared, stated open heart surgery must be done and
that I had had a heart attack. Well, imagine my surprise!! It really does take some of us a looong time to get it, doesn't it?

The surgery was scheduled. They gave me a video, with not nearly enough information in it, but it did say that one of three things would happen: 1.
I could die, 2. I could have a stroke, 3. I could get well. So, being the optimist that I am, I made out my will, told everybody I loved that I loved
them and hoped they would miss me if I died (they said they would), took care of things with God and told Him that I am ready but not homesick, and
waited for THE DATE. 

I was a smoker. My son is now 34 and when he was in first grade, he signed a pledge to never smoke, never has, tried to get me to stop, but I just
couldn't seem to do it. The day before surgery, my little baby son (now, don't make fun, to all mothers, our children are our little baby children
even when they are old) was coming from Sarasota to drive me over to Pensacola and be with me for the surgery. As I saw his car enter my
driveway, I put down my cigarette and said that would be the last one I ever smoked. I could, at this late date, quit for myself, my children and for
the people who would miss me if I died. It was the last one and I never missed them, not even once.

My attitude was very good going in because I knew I would be ok, no matter which way it went and I was not afraid. The last thing I recall was the
comfort of those warmed sheets they put around you and what a pleasant feeling it was. Upon waking, the first thing I recall seeing was my son's
eyes above me, shining with tears and later shadow figures of loved ones. This was a traumatic time for the onlookers and I am sorry they felt so hurt
for me. 

Next day, they removed those tubes and by golly, my chest and right leg were sparkling. There were staples everywhere. Had to keep em for about a week
after going home. Every day in the hospital the surgical team came in to make sure things were progressing well. They got me out of bed for
exercise. They sent in the dietitian to teach me about cholesterol, how to read labels, gave me literature and charts to study and recipes. They would
come in at different times of the day to do their particular part of the team job.

After 6 days, it was time to leave, so went to my nurse cousin's for several weeks till I could go to my own home. She had worked at Methodist Hospital
Houston (where Dr DeBakey was) for many years so I was in good hands and she took very good care of me, but made sure that I didn't lay down on the job.
I took a nap every day but spent most of the time out of bed. Those exercises are the most important part upon going home and they were part of
every day, several times per day.

Stitches came out, leaving (to this day) numbness, itchiness, scaly skin at ankle site. There are four long scars in the right leg, beginning at ankle,
going to groin. The sternum scar is very prominent and I ended up with cleavage (wow) that was NEVER THERE before, the sternum is tender and numb
on left side and there are wires in there to, I guess, hold it together while it healed. When you sneeze after surgery, you just know you are about
to die from the pain - I still have some, depending upon the wind velocity of the sneeze, it is called the "evil sneeze". You cannot drive for several
weeks. You cannot lift, push, pull. Strength is slow coming back, but you generally know you are better than before surgery. They say it will take a
whole year. My year is nearly over but I think in some ways there is still mending left to be done.

I feel good, better than I have for a long time. I know that things are different now in the way I look at things. Maybe the heart lung machine
actually does change things mentally. Everyone I speak with seems to have a softer, gentler side and a greater appreciation for life now than we had
before. We love more; we forgive easier; we understand others better and empathize more, I think. But the main thing I want to do is to share with
others, that they are NOT ALONE and I will do whatever I am able to reassure and walk along with them on the internet till they get ok again, as they
surely will.

My internet name is Hensylee and I took it as a tribute to my mother and because you can search the world over and you will not find one other person
named Hensylee. Now, after her death Jan 2, 2001, I will use is an honor to her memory.

This is way too long, but read a little here, then read a little there and eventually you will read it all - or not.

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