"Wherever your heart is, there you will find your treasure."
Paulo Coelho
Emergency Open Heart Surgery
my journey, my story, my challenge
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To my amazing family - my wife Julie, our four children and their loving partners.
Without their uncompromising love and prayers, I would not be here to write this.
At approximately 7:45am on Monday 29th July 2013, Julie stood poised with telephone in hand. She was about to dial 000 in response to Roy’s sudden and severe chest pain.
There was no reason to believe that this Monday was going to be different to any other. Along with millions of other people Roy was ready to leave for work as Julie prepared to welcome her daycare children for that day. Suddenly, in an instance, without any warning, all the regularities of life were about to dramatically change.
The events that followed have had a profound effect on many people. It has especially been a wakeup call to many men in Roy’s age group. The fine line that defines our mortality had been exposed for all to see. We are, in fact, ‘mere mortals’ walking ever so close to the edge of an existence that any one of us could have snatched from us in an instance. This was a reality check hitting very close to home for some.
Roy views things slightly differently though. The inevitable will happen to each of us, it is simply a matter of when. Death is the only certainty any of us has in life and we just need to accept it as fact. However, Roy knew the games in life were over for him, a second chance had been granted to him, and he needed to respond, now.
See, Roy believes that there are no accidents, nothing happens by chance. At a deeper level one can also apply this to our own existence here on planet earth. Each one of us, irrespective of race, creed, gender, intellect or personal circumstances, has a distinct and unique purpose for being. There are no accidents, and if you have ever suggested in any way that a child was ‘an accident’ , you need to correct that grave injustice now.
For Roy, he knew for years that his work here was not yet completed, however he had his well rehearsed list of reasons why he could not do it yet. Suddenly, excuses had little meaning, all this had changed and now worldly pursuits would take second place to fulfilling ‘his purpose for being’, his ‘life’s mission’, ‘God’s calling on his life’ or however you want to define it. The point is, we all have one and it is never too late to respond.
If the events that followed that extraordinary Monday can provide a catalyst for this message to overshadow our individual fears of the temporary nature of our existence, then, and only then can this all make sense and have some sort of purpose.
Enjoy, and be challenged.
****
“Shall I call 000"?
“Be ready to”.
As my wife reached for the phone and turned to face me I knew this was no ordinary chest pain (if there is such a thing). Yes, yes call them now.
That Monday morning in July was just like any other. I was about to leave for work as Julie’s daycare kids were arriving. How fragile life is, one heart beat is all that separates our regular and familiar life from the totally unexpected and unknown.
The ambulance personnel reassured Julie, “... it was not a heart attack but expect Roy to be at the local hospital for about four hours while staff did some routine tests”. Tests revealed nothing, I had stabilized suggesting all was well. I would have been sent home but for one minor issue. While throughout the day I was being administered some powerful pain killers, a dull but distinguishable chest pain remained. There had to be a cause. By 5:30pm a scan that had previously been cancelled was rescheduled.
“Hello”, a voice announced as Julie answered her mobile phone, she had just left the hospital to attend to some other matters. “We have news, the good news is we now know the cause of the pain. The bad news is that it is life threatening immediately”. The voice on the phone went on to explain the planned ‘Open Heart’ surgery procedure in fine detail. “A helicopter is on it’s way and the emergency surgery will take place tonight as soon as Roy arrives at Princess Alexandra Hospital in Brisbane. A team of surgeons are assembling and making preparations as we speak. However, be aware that recovery is highly questionable. Come to the hospital now, as you have about twenty minutes to spend together before the flight arrives”. We both knew that this was our opportunity to say our goodbyes.
The planned four hour surgery extended close to seven, due partly to my heart failing twice, however the medical team were able to ‘bring me back’. Even then the operation was left incomplete due to excessive bleeding. More surgery was scheduled for the following day to finalize the procedure. I now had a repaired Aorta, a mechanical valve installed and a fair amount of someone else’s blood. It was to be some five days though, before I had any conscious awareness of my new reality.
Each day following the two operations, efforts were being made to revive me and have me breathing unaided. By Friday it was apparent that every hour I remained in that sedated, unconscious state my chances of recovery was diminishing rapidly. I had already defied the odds several times throughout the week hanging on to a fragile thread of life and refusing to give up. But, can I recover, and if so, would I retain any usable mental capacity? Family and medical staff were well prepared for the ‘inevitable’. For Julie it was a matter of living one hour at a time, to think two hours out was far too unpredictable and overwhelming. She just could not do that.
My family had assembled and a team of seven medical staff were preparing to give me my best, however last chance to survive. Friday was going to be ‘the day’, artificial breathing devices were to be removed, and I would be stimulated and encouraged in any way they knew how. Ultimately though, it was over to me, would I start breathing unaided or not? Either way the life support would not be reinstated. It was up to me now. Could I do it? There was a glimmer of hope as a faint breathing was being detected. My lungs were very weak and required high levels of oxygen. However, I was hanging on and would not give up.
I have included some entries direct from a family journal kept throughout this critical time as my own memory of these events are scant and unreliable:
‘We realized it was very, very, serious and talked to him for an hour, trying to get him excited and take some breaths. He did ‘perk up’ a bit so I came out...’
That night a prayer vigil was organized by my wife. The nine immediate family - Julie, our four children and their partners would pray non stop from 9:00pm till midnight, then continue on till 3:00am in accordance with the ‘watches’ set out in the Bible. Only two people were allowed in the ICU so they rotated, keeping two by my bedside, and the others walking the corridors of the hospital endlessly praying throughout the night. They retired to bed at 3:00am exhausted.
Interestingly, I had enough awareness at some level to direct their prayers. At one point a family member whispered to Julie that she could not continue and needed a break. I could not have heard this as I was out of ear shot, but I insisted she continue along with instructions on what to be praying for. How can this be?
“Angels, yes pray for angels to be around about me. No, no, not black ones - I need white ones. Those two black ones must go!” This was how the night unfolded yet I had no conscious awareness of any of this. How can it be?
‘Near Death Experiences’ are not uncommon with many documented cases available. I have very little recollection of the events of that week, and most of what I am writing is what I have been told by my family. However one experience remains clear in my mind. I was to be given a choice, in fact, I somehow knew that first day at my local hospital that at some point I would need to make this decision. How could that be when there was no suggestion that there was anything seriously wrong, or that I would even need surgery?
‘Discussing his memories of the past few days - He struggles to sort out what was real and what was hallucinations - He talked about his experience on Friday night and how he saw angels and had to make a choice - White angels which turned to black ones.
He got real teary when he spoke about Monday when the pain happened at home. The nurse asked where he was when this happened. He said, “At home getting ready for work.” His face changed to sadness as he remembered. He said he knew then that he would need to make a choice about his life.’
It would have been during the Friday/Friday night experience that I struggled with this decision. Now, one can picture rocking up to those famous ‘Pearly Gates’ and having St Peter ask if this is really what you want, or do you want to return from where you came. A sense of peace and tranquility sweeping over one as in the midst of this serenity a calculated decision would be made.
For me it was anything but that. A time of trauma, anguish, struggle and a sense of clinging on to the sheer fragility of life itself. For what seemed like hours I wrestled with the desire to return, while fighting to hold on to a physical life that was ever so fragile. I instructed my family to keep praying as they were ‘loosing me’. The black angles, the white angles. “Pray for the ‘Anointing of Samson’, if God did it for him he can do it for me too. Don’t pray for ‘the light’ (?) pray Jesus and his presence”. What was the meaning of all this? From my perspective it was chaotic. For my family, it was sheer determination to breakthrough in victory.
Saturday, with a greater sense of awareness, I saw looks of love and caring. The genuine smiles of relief and welled up excitement could not be hidden or fabricated. This was my family. It was real. The reality was being laid out in front of them, yet they all knew, it was not meant to be like this, this was not really possible. In short, I should not have, and could not have survived the ordeal I had just been through.
(Sunday 4 August)
‘... he was talking and very settled. We found it hard to talk about things because they always seemed to go back to food – Camp oven for Brad’s birthday, vegetable garden and green smoothies, Mum back at apartment having breakfast, etc.
Mikaela mentioned about the helicopter ride... all this sent his blood pressure high. The nurse told us to not mention food, drink or helicopters. Because he had been asking so much for a cup of tea, or hot chocolate, or green smoothie.’
‘We went for coffee...We had to make visits short today because he was so alert he got tired out so quickly. We left him sleep between about 1:30 and 4:00... then the evening visit... he was very tired, so hard to talk, but still looking well and improving in little steps.’
I have no doubt that I owe my will to survive largely to the love and support of my family. Three words from a ten year old grandson:
- Courageous (meaning Strong and Brave)
- Determined
- Confident.
How precious is that!
The hand made cards from other grand children depicting love hearts and family themes. The genuine enquiries and sense of knowing that, “Pa will be okay”.
It is these little things that make one want to fight back and live on.
I am humbled too, as I become aware of just how much prayer support I had right around the nation. The number of people who have said they were woken during the night to pray for me. The individuals who fasted and prayed. The prayer groups, a friend who had a friend somewhere connected with a prayer group that went to prayer on my behalf. This was happening all over the country by people I do not know and there are many I will never hear about as well. It was like I gained the will to survive through my families love and dedication, while I gained the strength to survive through the huge amount of prayer support. And, of course it was the amazing medical team that made it all possible.
It was not only me that needed support at those critical moments and one can only be amazed at the timeliness of such support:
‘Julie and Mikaela arrived at hospital at 5:31am. Second surgery at about 8:00am. Mum was with Dad until he went into surgery and then she and Mikaela went down and bought a coffee from the café to take outside and sit in the sunshine. While sitting on the bench seat beside the road into the main entry they heard a horn toot... it was Andrew, driving an ambulance bus. He pulled into the center lane to talk to Julie and get an update on how Dad was going. Mum was on the phone but hung up to talk to Andrew and just after he drove away the doctor rang to say Dad had came out of surgery and it went well. Jane then drove past and asked where to park to come and have coffee with us. They went and sat inside the café with Jane for a while.’
‘I [Corinna] arrived just as the nerves were hitting Mum and realities were about to be revealed. She was so grateful for the extra support. They tried to bring Dad out of sedation about 12 – just as I arrived. He seemed to recognize us but wasn’t responding to commands. They tried for several hours to keep him off sedation but he just wasn’t responding at all. So they decided to allow him another day to rest and sedated him again till the next morning.’
Timely support from caring people.
More from the family diary:
(next day)
‘Once again, they tried to bring dad out of sedation midmorning. He was doing well and slightly obeying commands (squeeze my hand etc.) and seemed to recognize Mum and I when we were in with him. Corinna came out to allow Mikaela to go in and to ‘text’ the boys with the good news. But, in that few minutes he had gone backwards and they had to sedate him again. He wasn’t breathing well enough to take out the breathing tube and he was quite agitated with it in. So we had to re text boys... Jo had already phoned Nana and Grandma with the positive news. Ooops. It’s just taking it moment by moment here. He was thrashing his legs and arms around – semi uncontrolled and in a semi-delirious state. He was pulling at breathing tube and all other tubes. Saying things like, “They’re killing me. These tubes are turning me into a vegetable”. Mum was struggling with the reality hitting, would he ever come out because this isn’t working. We spent the evening with him... after we left we were laughing and explained that this was our coping mechanism and release. Our bottled emotion has come out in ridiculous laughter instead of overwhelming tears’.
At this point I need to acknowledge the amazing efforts and dedication of the medical staff. From the quick and professional response of the ambulance personal, to the team of surgeons, to the staff in ICU and later in the recovery ward. These special people have a dedication to their jobs that must be admired. I shall for ever be indebted to their efforts, for without these people, and their swift and professional response I could not have survived.
(Monday)
‘The nurse was telling him he had a big day ahead, he was going to the ward today. He hadn’t needed one particular medication overnight which means he should be able to move to the ward today. If he needed that medication he wouldn’t have been able to leave ICU. ‘
‘Mum and I came back to the hospital foyer to wait till 11:00 when we could go back in to visit. The chaplain called mum and met us in foyer for a chat ... The chaplain told us that she had just been in to see Dad and they were getting him prepared to transfer to the ward. We briefly went in to see him just about 11:45 then waited in his ward while they transferred. He was asking if he needed to put pants on. Mum responded by telling him that he wouldn’t be walking to the ward but they would wheel his bed in. He replied, “That’s not what I asked.” The nurse said that shorts weren’t necessary and would be in the way still. He then questioned Mum and I about the shorts. “are those shorts some kind of a joke?” Mum explained that they needed to be a couple sizes too big for comfort in hospital etc. but he still wasn’t convinced. Finally we said they were pj shorts and he was happy then. He thought the extra big, stripy shorts were a bit of a joke.’
‘Such an exciting feeling walking down that other corridor out of ICU into a standard ward.
Dad moved from ICU to the ward at 12:00. He was quite happy that they were punctual as they said it would be 12.’
‘We stayed with him till about 2:30 when the nurse was finished and they were going to let him sleep. He was really exhausted and commented on what a big day it had been and so much to do getting him from ICU to the ward. Mum and I just about skipped with joy and excitement through the hospital corridors. Wanting to ‘shout from the mountaintops’ we were so excited to see him in a ward and being himself.’
(Monday pm)
‘First meal in 8 days = soup (tomato with imagination) potato, pumpkin, stew gravy, panadol in juice. Major milestone and steps forwards.’
‘Just before going back to bed about 6:30 the nurses took him for a walk ... he went halfway down the corridor. The nurses expected he might get to the door and back but he went so much further. Concentrating hard, with determination and confidence.’
‘Dad is making jokes and giving cheek to the nurses. So good to see the dad we know back again.’
In the recovery ward progress was slow but encouraging, as each day I was aware of some small thing I could not have done the previous day. Finally, the day came for me to be discharged from hospital.
I was sent home with a bundle of literature outlining what to expect during this post operation period, a sort of timeline for recovery. I largely disregarded it because I had not played by any rules till this point, so why should I start now?
One piece of information seemed to present with predictable regularity. Several weeks into recovery I could expect to experience ‘depression’. Why, would I want to do that after all I had just been through? Some years earlier I had suffered mild depression and was on medication for a short time. I had learned from that experience that depression is not strictly medical by nature, but rather driven by a state of mind, so medication was not the real answer. Change ones mental state, get off the medication and get on with life, which is exactly what I did. I had no intention going there again, ever.
****
But, why was I given a second chance at life?
‘Mum and I had a good talk with Dad. He didn’t sleep much last night but spent a lot of time thinking. He said, “You can’t go through something like this without major changes in your life.”’
I came home, and as my physical and mental stamina allowed I started reading books and listening to teaching DVD’s etc. Good wholesome stuff, that would motivate and encourage me. Stuff that was positive and would drive me forward. No novels, no soapies, no TV of any sort, no news broadcasts or news papers. Only positive input, and I made sure I only had positive people around me too.
One of my first assignments was to listen to a recording of a presentation by Arnold Schwarzenegger made when he was speaking in Australia some six weeks earlier. His ‘Five Points to Success’. I picked up on his first and main point. He said, “Have a vision for your life, a purpose, a goal”.
For some years I had been wrestling with this. I knew what my vision was, I knew what I wanted/needed to be doing, however how could I make it happen? Julie and I had been doing a lot of study, we could see that there was a fullness of life that was eluding most people, including ourselves. We realized that there was a message that was waiting to be told, but how could we do that? How would we attract an audience? How could we present this stuff? How could we make it happen? It was somehow overwhelming and just too hard.
Suddenly none of the ‘how’ was important, I just knew the games were over and it was time to take action. There just might not be a third chance. I needed to draw on this same strength, this intuitive power that was guiding me in hospital, the one that gave me the ability to fight, to look death in the eye and claim victory. If I could be aware of my family praying and even speak direction into their prayers while in a coma like state, then surely I could trust this same strength, this power within, to lead and guide me now.
There is a line of thought that suggests our minds have three levels. There is our conscious minds, the part we use for all conscious activity. There is the subconscious mind, this is our storage system where our life time of experiences are stored, and, in fact filters our conscious thoughts. Then there is the superconscious mind. This is our power base, this is what drives and directs us. It is this area of consciousness which I believe I was accessing while in a form of coma in hospital. The Bible teaches us that the Holy Spirit dwells within us, I believe, dwells in that superconscious part of our mind. Now, whatever your spiritual beliefs, you will have an equivalent for that statement. That power source, that guidance you can draw on. It is there waiting for each of us to tap into and access.
For me, I am aware of, and committed to, fulfilling this ‘purpose for being’. I also know that all the resources are in fact available to me to carry out the task now. The Bible teaches that we are created in the image and likeness of God. We are in fact born lacking nothing. This of course applies to each of us but some like me need a bit of a shakeup to realize it.
Rhonda Byrne says it beautifully, “When you find your purpose, it is like your heart has been set alight with passion. You know it absolutely, without any doubt”. We will know when we are in that ‘right place’, where there is no room for negativity, depression or midlife crisis. Our lives will be flooded with a passion and purpose that continues to drive us forward.
****
Three months on....
As I sit here alone in a coffee shop - several realizations come flooding to mind.
Firstly, I realize it is twelve weeks to the day since that first operation. So, now would be an ideal time to write an epilog to this article. I feel I have license to reflect on the past months, and allow myself the liberty of being a little philosophical.
I have been asked to be more specific about my medical condition -
The records show that I had a Type A Aortic Aneurysm. Once diagnosed I was scheduled for immediate surgery resulting in a repaired aorta and the installation of an artificial mechanical valve (I understand) between my heart and aorta.
The cause of this condition is due to my having Marfan Syndrome, a hereditary condition. One of the symptoms of this condition is a degeneration of the arterial system. Consequently, I currently have three more aneurisms which may need surgery at some point. An upcoming appointment with a Vascular Surgeon will ascertain the current state of these.
So, what would I do differently if I could do it all over again? An interesting thought indeed. A friend commented that, “It was a bugger of a way to get a free helicopter ride”. I think he is right on that point. However, as I was unaware of the condition or it’s presence there is probably not much I could have done in specific preparation.
This is a reasonably rare condition and more importantly the survival rate for the operation I had is very poor. My local G.P. says she does not know of anyone who presented with my symptoms and survived the operation.
Also, this condition usually affects men in the forty-five to fifty-five age bracket. I was fifty-seven, and I survived, so I guess I did something right the first time. I was told, that if I had died on that Monday, my death would probably have been diagnosed as a stroke. My farther died of a stroke at age forty-six. I have a hereditary disease, hummm....
I take nothing away from what I said earlier, however it is possible that good physical, mental and spiritual health and fitness contributed to my recovery and delayed the effects till age fifty-seven. In the scheme of things what else can one do really.
My mission now is to remove my dependency on the cocktail of prescription drugs, (poisons) that I am currently taking including the warfarin ‘I will be on for the rest of my life’. I believe this can be achieved responsibly over time and I will be healthier and financially better off as a result.
Meanwhile, I stated that a person cannot go through what I went through without some major changes in their life as a result. My priorities have definitely changed, and I am now willing to allow myself to be the person God created me to be. As a society, we have developed several lucrative industries around becoming something or someone we were never meant to be. We really only have to allow ourselves to be that ‘perfection’ God created, along with all the fullness and resourcefulness that is ours. God never meant for us to become anything, all we have to do is be. In fact, the Bible teaches that we should not strive but rather rest in His presence and peace.
I am now learning the importance and skill of living in the present. The past is gone, the future may never happen, all any of us has is the absolute present. Make the most of every one of these moments, living with gratitude for the abundance we all have right now.
I will leave you with this thought:
When we look up and see the night sky, the stars, set in the deep blue-black. We must surely think, what a miracle life is. No matter what our situation, we all have so much to be thankful for. In this present moment we can be ever so grateful, and in so doing we see potential, we see opportunity, and we are energized with passion to go forward.
Live in the moment and be blessed.
****
