Last week was a big one. Birthdays and anniversaries. 

My birthday. And two days later..the anniversary of my heart attack and two days after that..the day my life was saved, through the skills of my cardiologist and the Cardiac Cath Lab, by the grace of God.  

There were all kinds of feelings last week. Joy. Sorrow. Shame. Guilt. Frustration. But mostly gratitude. For my family and friends, doctors, my faith and the fact that I am alive. I don’t take one day for granted, because each one is a gift. Some days the wrapping paper is a little crinkly and other days, the day has the shiniest bow. Either way, it’s the day God has gifted to me. 

So a year later, where do things stand? Certainly, Not where I or my cardiologist thought we’d be. The goal was to have me on 2 pills, cholesterol meds (which I’ll take the rest of my life) and a daily aspirin. Instead I take upwards of 30 pills a day. He has me on the most aggressive cardiac medicine regimen and I agree with his course of action. We’ve had a lot of surprises this past year..

So, what’s the status of things? Here’s a little update. 
Endocronology: Being diagnosed as a diabetic after my surgery came as a shock,  but I have one of the best endocronologists in the area and he is working aggressively to get my sugars under control by adding/adjusting some meds. It’s blood work and appts once every 2-3 months, but my numbers are already looking better. There’s a link between diabetes and heart health so we both know we can’t take any chances. 

Neurology: I see my neurologist every 2-3 months right now to deal with some pain issues. He’s a great doc and his limited desire for follow up appts makes him one of my favorites. 

Psychologically: the past year has been a tough road. Depression and anxiety are so common for heart patients, that the cardiologists are pretty much prepared for it…..

I wasn’t. And every turn my case took, was another layer. I never knew that it could all lead to PTSD. I hate that we label it as something like a disorder, because often people thing it’s something wrong that we did. When in reality it’s our brains.

I want to write more about this in an upcoming post, but for now I’m Learning to live with such an illness, through the eyes of faith. My faith has helped me to see the difference between despair and depression. And I’ve come to know that It’s the greatest and deepest recesses of our faith that gives us the grace to hope. I’m working hard with a new local counselor and it’s great to have her. I encourage anyone thinking about counseling to go. 

Rheumatology: because I’m an overachiever, I was seen by the chief of medicine (aka: he happened to be the Pulmonologist on hospital duty when I was there) and after reviewing my records and speaking to my cardiologist, he is highly suspicious that I have a connective tissue/autoimmune disorder. I saw a rheumatologist last week who ordered a whole set of labs. He also started a muscle relaxer to hopefully bring the inflammation and pain in my body down. It seems to be helping to manage the pain, so he’s one of my favs right now. 

Pulmonology: Turns out all my hospital stays were helpful to my Pulmonologist.  He happened to be in the room when my O2 levels dropped and he was able to further examine me. It gave him some indications as to how to treat and what other tests he wants to run…which leads me to cardiology…

Cardiology: my cardiologist has given up on the fact that I will ever follow a textbook because everytime we zig my heart zags.  We are still trying to get my bp and heart rate to normalize, so I’m a work in progress. In good news, we know my grafts are widely patent due to the emergency left heart Cath a few weeks ago. We also know with my right sided heart disfunction that we have to keep a watchful eye. My breathing becomes quickly labored so we ask… Is it cardiac or pulmonary? Kind of both, possibly. We know that I have right sided heart failure; which can be a cause of pulmonary hypertension which can cause the breathing issues. But they need to know the severity of it, in order to treat it…

So Pulmonology has requested a right Heart Cath, so we are headed back to the Cath Lab, next Monday. They are running an extra test to see how my heart responds and depending on that my Pulmonologist and cardiologist can work together to come up with a treatment plan. It will help them rule-in or rule-out the cause of my pulmonary hypertension and the severity of it. Hopefully after this Cath, I won’t be meeting my cardiologist in the Cath lab again any time soon. . 

Please pray for the Cath, my cardiologist and myPulmonologist, for their wisdom to know what treatment is best. 

Overall, I see a whole team of specialists and still have upwards of 5-8 appointments a month. We seem to be making some progress and I’ve come to learn this healing process is going to be a long road. And verrrrrrry slow. So may God grant me every grace I need each day.

…gotta run. They are about to call me up to the window for my pre-Cath bloodwork. Later gators! 

Happy birthday to me! 28 years young. Mom and I decided that at midnight last night we were declaring year 27 done, gone, out of here. It certainly wasn’t my favorite year.

To honor the 28th year, I am writing to someone who I tremendously…

An open letter to mom…

Dear Mom, stinky, stinky Pete, motor, mother, 

We did it. We made it to today. 

I am guessing that 28 years ago as you awaited my arrival (well planned on a Monday morning…haha), you never foresaw the road that would be ahead. But you have handled so much with so much grace and faith. You have loved tremendously, served joyfully, forgiven justly, supported faithfully and mothered gracefully. 

The past year has weathered us both. We have grown weary, tired, frustrated and yet at each turn you spoke hope, when none seemed possible. You fought ferociously for me as you watched me suffer- battles for more tests/answers, you fought spiritually for me in prayer, as you watched me walk through the valleys of suffering, you listened and guided as you watched me battle emotions and learn to live with PTSD. 

I’ve watched you suffer this past year as you watched me suffer. The fear in your eyes, each time they rolled me away, that the past would repeat itself, a burden you carry and only few could ever really understand. I saw your tired eyes, after the sleepless nights and the late night visits to the ER. I saw the desire in your eyes as you begged and pleaded with the Lord just to take an ounce of the pain I was carrying. But while suffer you did, you never once threw in the towel, gave up or surrendered. You continued to fight, to love and to serve. 

This past year, we both wondered at times what the future would hold. With diagnosis after diagnosis, we processed it together. We came to peace together with the end of future dreams, what life would look like now. 

I think back on what life must have been like for you at 7:59 on May 23, 28 years ago, and one thing I know for sure. The mother that first held me in her arms, who in that moment promised to love, guide and fight for me, is the same one who has loved me, guided me and fought for me the past 28 years. 

Here’s to you mom. We did it. We made it to today. Couldn’t have done it without you. 

Love, Stinky Jr.