DECEMBER 7th 1988 was as good as any other day for quadruple bypass surgery.
HOW DID SUCH A NICE PERSON GET INTO THIS MESS?
SLOW FREIGHT: “Heart disease is insidious,” intoned my somber cardiologist. I heard him loud and clear. He had my full attention. The previous day he gouged a new access route to my heart. “I don’t think we’ll find much,” was his prophecy at the start of my catherization. I felt pressure on my arm when he began his push towards my heart. Within seconds he said, “We’re in the heart.” My exact thought was what’s this “we” stuff? I was not an active participant. I was flat on my back, staring in the opposite direction from his cutting and insertion activities.
“Insidiousness” translated to quadruple by-pass surgery for me. Heart disease had been a slow moving train chugging mindlessly forward. Clog, clog, clog. Suddenly, while futzing inside a chamber, my cardiologist threw a directional switch. To a fast track. On an express train. All aboard!
WHAT DO YOU MEAN I CAUSED MY OWN BYPASS SURGERY?
I had no problem accepting responsibility for the quadruple stitches deep inside my chest. I know how to assign responsibility. I do not shirk from personal liability for the damage I did to myself when I wandered, ever so slightly, from a dedicated life of moderation. I was a big boy. I know what causes heart disease. The seven causes of coronary artery disease were graphically depicted on huge wall charts lining the corridor of the hospital’s coronary care unit. Each day of my recovery I shuffled along those halls with a distant, forlorn expression. Life sustaining goo spewed forth from an I.V. tree that I dragged with me on those strolls. In those days walking the length of a hospital hallway represented a wondrous medical outcome in my mind.
Being alive never hurt so damn much. but, it was a good pain. Because I was not chugging along at a brisk pace I had plenty of time to be indoctrinated by the cardiologists’ charts of condemnation. You should know that medical folks are not bashful about instilling guilt in their patients. Perhaps that is why so many of our best hospitals are Catholic. Drawings of bright red coronary arteries, each as wide as an autobahn, were depicted. Alongside were faint sketches of crinkling, pinkish arteries plugged with waxy muck. The bright arteries looked vibrant, as if joyous that the blood of life sluiced smoothly against their walls. The unhealthy arteries looked stressed and tired, ready to throw in the towel by clutching a passing clot in order to rest in perpetuity. The contrast between obviously healthy arteries and my shamefully abused pathways triggered a sincere determination on my part to change my life. So, naturally, I began to bargain with God.
With thirteen tubes, six intravenous lines and a pair of electrode “jump starters” protruding from my limp body, bargaining seemed a wise choice at the time. However, bargaining near a precipice is not a road for you to travel. Don’t get into that situation. Live a healthy life. Never smoke. Exercise on a regular basis. Limit unhealthy foods. Avoid being overweight. You can’t dodge family medical history but all the more reason to pay attention to your health. Chase the elusive goal of moderation. Did I mention never smoking? Never, ever.