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Edited on Thu Feb-11-10 11:41 PM by DFW
I was hiking in Italy with my wife, and felt a little short of breath and had a twinge in my shoulder. I thought,
hey, I read somewhere that this could be a symptom of heart trouble, and my mom had pretty much died of high cholesterol,
so I should get this checked out. So the next Monday, back in Germany, I looked up cardiologists in our little town
outside of Düsseldorf, and, at random, picked one that was on a street I knew. I called and asked if he would see me.
The huffy receptionist said they were booked up for two months. I said, look, I was from Dallas, Texas, was passing
through (not true, but what did she know), and that I would pay up front (cash-strapped German doctors, who usually have
to wait for insurance to be paid by their huge bureaucracy, love this). She said, well, OK, if I could come in at 5:15
that afternoon. I said sure.
The guy was really nice, seemed to know what he was doing, and gave me an EKG. He said something was there for sure,
and could I come back again two days later for an echo-stress test. I said sure, whatever that is. So, on Wednesday
I went in for the echo stress test (basically, they hook you up to a bicycle-type treading machine and do running EKGs
and take constant BP measurements). After about 90 seconds, he says, OK, that's fine, in my office, please.
In his office a couple of minutes later, he says he's calling up to the Krupp Clinic in Essen (25 minutes away by car)
to have me admitted on a priority basis. I said, wow, is it THAT serious? He said you can't afford to take the risk.
I said, OK, I had stuff to do, but was free as of the next Monday. He said, no you're not. He said cancel everything
you have planned and get up there NOW, do not pass Go, do not collect 200 euros, but RIGHT NOW. I said, THAT serious?
He said it might be, don't risk it.
So I called my wife, and she drove me up there to the Krupp Clinic in Essen. Sure enough, they were waiting for me--
with a wheelchair! I said, come on, let's not be over-dramatic, here. They said get in there and sit down! Gulp. I
did as they said. The next morning, the big Professor (also a hell of a nice guy) came in, looked at what the local
cardiologist had written, says, clear the schedule, this guy comes on at noon (gulp again). Then a young doctor comes
in and gives me a big thing to sign, acknowledging that I'm aware of all that could go wrong. It was all horrible
stuff, so I asked, why not just get me a gun and I'll end it right here and now? He said, no, no, none of that stuff
had ever happened, but they were required by law, etc etc. So I signed it.
So at noon, they take me down to the operating theater where some setup out of Star Wars is revolving around me the whole
time, and the Professor is looking at a monitor. They gave me a local anesthetic at my hip and said, OK, you'll feel
some pressure. I did, but it was OK. He then says, after about ten seconds, "OK, I'm fooling around inside your heart,
now, but you have no nerves there, so you don't feel anything." He was right I didn't, but just knowing that was very
weird, indeed. Then he said, "now you're going to feel warm for about 15 seconds, but it will pass."
He was right. I felt like I was a dishwasher, and someone had just pressed "rinse." This is where they inject the radioactive
dye, so they can see if you have any clogged arteries. At various times, he asked me to bold my breath, and then resume
breathing normally. You're completely awake during the whole thing, you see. But he's completely calm and methodical, so
I don't panic either. He checks the monitor, says, mmm-hmmm. Then he tells the attending nurse to get him a stent of some
measurement. She does. I can't see what he's doing with it, but I hear faint noises. then he says, "ah that went in
perfectly. Now I need one of such-and such a size." She gets it, I hear the noises again, and he says, "Ah, that one went
in perfectly as well." He does some more stuff, which I later learned was collapsing the balloons that expanded the stents
inside the artery to hold it open, and then pulls all the stuff out of my hip. They apply a strong pressure bandage, and
he tells me, "OK, NOW I can tell you you're going to be OK. But if you had waited a day or so longer, you might not have
lived to tell the tale." He showed me the before/after images from the monitor. I had 2 forward arteries 99% clogged, and
might have dropped dead of a heart attack any second. Because I have low blood pressure, I barely noticed it. He said I
was lucky to have consulted the best local cardiologist for miles around. I said it was pure dumb luck. He then switched to
English for only one phrase: "just in time."
The next day, they brought my wife in again, and had us meet with a dietician. She read us the new laws of my survival
routine: "if it tastes good, spit it out." No more cheese (torture!!!!!!!!), eggs, ice cream, shellfish, red meat,
butter, etc etc etc. Change to olive oil for cooking. Fish and poultry only. Luckily, very dark chocolate, the only kind
I like anyway, was still OK. My wife is a master chef, so that was a snap for her. Also--lots of grains with flax seed
for breakfast every day. OK, can do. Life is worth it.
And here I am nearly six years later. I may drop dead tomorrow, but if I do, it'll be six years after Mother Nature had
me scheduled to do a fast fade. So far, so good.
I'm sure Bill Clinton went through a similar thing. You don't really know how dire the danger is until after you've passed
the worst part. At least you're spared the panic, and if you're still around to tell the tale, then you've already come
through the most dangerous part.
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