TL;DR, if you do don't complain cause you've been warned.

Feb 22, 2019, 8:06 AM

In 2000 I had three bypasses done at G'vile Memorial. It was my second open heart and the damage dropped my heart below normal function. It left me with two arteries blocked and a significant portion of worthless muscle. You're probably noticed that my reports on the project car I'm restoring have become few and far between. I've been sick.

Tuesday evening I was near not being able to walk. My chest hurt from shoulder to shoulder with the pain originating in the center. I ate a couple big aspirin and tried to sit through it remembering that the doctors had told me in 2000 after the last surgery that they couldn't open my chest again without killing me.

Somewhere late evening or early morning I asked my son to take me to the hospital. It's a little blurry since then. I was immediately taken to a bed in the ER and within an hour told that I was being admitted. A cardiologist from the Carolina Cardiology group came by early and talked with me about several issues from my previous visit there. They asked a lot of questions about my long history of heart disease and the assistant researched the information online while we talked. They listed the information on every event from the last two decades with focus on the testing and evaluations that were made during that time.

Within an hour they had every record from all three different heart groups that had tested me including the cath lab reports. Due some confusion (obstinate old men do this sometimes) I'd not scheduled one as directed by Dr George a couple months ago. They scheduled one for around 2 PM Wed.

I spoke to my children about several things which people fact when they reach the end of life. My two sons didn't want to look there but their elder sister said she wasn't leaving the hospital because she wanted to be the first to know if I died so she could be the first to get to my house and 'get all my good stuff.' My laugh took me near to death.

So the plan was to do the cath, make an evaluation and do what they 'could with stints to try and keep the old buzzard kicking.' None of us expected a lot but I don't actually believe any of us gave up the first bit of hope. I had been moved from ER to the 3rd floor sometimes early Wed morning and from there to another room close to the cath lab around 10am on the same floor.

Time seemed to move slowly but when you think death is lurking just beyond the next door that's not something that bothers you. So they put me on the slab in the lab which I'd experienced couple times and then they went to work. Details upon request.

I described the ins and outs of having wires push a variety of things through the femoral artery into the heart as having Transformers changing from cars/trucks to monster machines of destruction in your chest. It turned out they were poking around my heart for a couple hours. The kids said four hours from entering the lab until they brought me out.

Dr Patel came to my room and talked to the family while standing over my bed. Since my being had been introduced to a couple milligrams of medical fentanyl (not the salts on the street that's killing people) I wasn't quite comprehending the full scope of the work done and didn't catch the results. I kinda got stuck on the part where he said I two of my last bypasses were 100% blocked and the last remaining open artery was 85% blocked.

I was confused by remembering the warnings that the Dr who did the last cath a few years back gave me. 'One artery was 100% blocked and there was no way to fix it. The blockage was old, hard packed and couldn't be opened. All I knew what that my chest wasn't hurting and the only confusion was why I felt like I could work 12 hrs then pisz over a 10' pole. Drugs huh?

So last yesterday after noon I was home. My son picked me up and we talked for a while about the previous couple days, the past few years and the last three or four months that I sat without doing much and the repercussions on the mind and body from being so sick. I was kinda proud that I hadn't complained about being so messed up and my attitude had been fairly mild considering the circumstances. Having nearly no blood supply to the heart takes it's toll. I'm not going to show my ignorance now by giving an estimate of what percentage loss of oxygen my heart was suffering. I'll leave that to those with better imaginations.

I struggled to comprehend what my boy was telling me. It came in waves, was more than a normal person could comprehend after the dope had worn off completely and the caution of being so restricted for so long was fighting with the truth with all it was worth to survive.

My heart function is normal. I hadn't heart that since 1982 just after my first by-pass surgery. While one portion of the muscle was lost in 2000 by the massive heart attack I suffered, my hear function was normal. I had two arteries blocked which had been blocked since before the 2000 surgery but one of them had fed the muscle which was lost and the other was in an area which was too damaged to deal with.

Somehow Dr Patel had done what I believed was impossible. He had opened two blockages which were 100% blocked and opened the one 85% blocked. Maybe medicine has changed that much in these few years since my last cath or maybe the doctor who did that last cath was a quack or just didn't think I was worth the effort. Maybe this Patel guy has the inside scoop with God or perhaps he's a time traveler from the far future who brought his matter transfer pen with him. I'll have to leave that to the reader to figure out.

For me, I'm thinking back to the time when my pentacostal friends tried to name it and claim it with miracle from God on my behalf. I didn't believe in magic wands or genies then and nothing has changed my mind. That doesn't mean I don't recall a promise from God when He told me the healing was going to be a process and how He put me on hold about it nearly two decades ago.

Now I'm sitting here sober and thinking sobering thoughts about whether or not I'm dreaming and if I'll wake up or how or whether or not I'll just face the reality that my life is fixing to get a lot better.

The only thing I regret is that I didn't have a puter in the hospital and could show 7spots some old school drunk posting while I was doing that medical dope. It might change his mind about wasting money on beer and the delusion that he's living the good life.

I fault none of you who don't believe this chit. I'm constantly posting stuff that normal people don't believe. It's not my fault I've live such an extraordinary life. I feel no guilt.

I'm not spell checking this or trying to act like it's a polished piece fit for publication. I'm just going to hit the post message feature and let it happen naturally like I've done everything else in life.

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TL;DR, if you do don't complain cause you've been warned.

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