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Getting into the vault wasn’t so bad, it was the getting out I was worried about. I had been under for surgery before, but not an emergency like this. It was all so sudden and unexpected. Just a few weeks ago, I had been a healthy 56 year-old man, on the 53rd day of his mini run streak. Now, I was about to go on an operating table for emergency coronary bypass surgery.
Dr. Boyce had told me this was major surgery, but reassured me that he did this a couple times a day, and it would be successful. I had kissed my youngest son and wife goodbye, and just in case things went sideways, I told her I loved her forever. The anesthesiologist told me to count backwards, and I wondered. What was I stepping into?
And how did this happen?
On July 2nd, everything was fine. I ran about 2.5 easy miles and went about the rest of my day.
July 3rd was one of my fitness test days. Once a month, I challenged myself to run 3 miles while keeping my heart rate below 130 beats per minute. In theory, I these runs were supposed to get faster every month while keeping my heart rate level. I wouldn’t say I had a bad run on July 3rd, but my results were slightly worse than my June test. I noticed that I was breathing harder than I should have been. It didn’t set off any alarms, but I took note.
Over the next two weeks this breathing trouble got worse. Then, on July 18th I went on an easy run with a group of friends and had to walk 3 miles back to my car when I could not finish or catch my breath.
I knew something was wrong but really had no clue what the problem could be.
Fast forward a few weeks through checkups with my primary care doctor, a pulmonologist, and a cardiologist. So many tests, so few answers. Yet, I couldn’t let that derail the family trip to Atlantis to celebrate our son’s high school graduation. In retrospect, snorkeling might not have been my best idea.
Then, Tuesday August 4th, I went for a short walk around the neighborhood. I had run these roads hundreds of times. But today I had to stop and catch my breath. At the next corner, I had to stop again. I was sweating much more than I should have been. When I got home, I woke up my wife and told her something was seriously wrong, and we needed to call 911. She said I felt clammy, and immediately grabbed her phone and called for help. By the time the EMTs arrived, I was feeling better and didn’t want to go to the hospital. Fortunately, my wife insisted that I get in the ambulance.
The EMTs took me into the Emergency Room for more tests, and the doctors were now completely focused on heart issues. Wednesday morning I had an angiogram. When I came out of that I could tell by the look on the doctor’s face that it was not good. They were transferring me to another hospital to have coronary bypass surgery as quickly as I could be scheduled. I was slated for the doctor’s very first surgery on Thursday. This was serious and urgent. But Dr. Boyce told me not to worry. I would be knocked out and wouldn’t remember much until Friday. He reassured me again that I would recover and be fine.
The next 36 hours were a blur for me. I remember seeing my wife and youngest son before surgery. I remember seeing all the doctors and nurses before I was out. I hallucinated in the recovery area. I pushed the morphine button as often as possible. When I could finally concentrate, the nurse told me it was Friday, and then I saw my wife come into the room.
I had made it out of the vault.
Going into that dark place was scary. And even then, the journey was not entirely over. It took me over a year to “fully” recover and be able to run the way I wanted to run. It’s been seven years now since I escaped and I hope to never go back again. Know your numbers, see your doctors, and get answers if anything changes.
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