My Story to Tell

I was hesitant at first to write this blog post. A big reason for that is because so many people have experienced a lot of life-altering events and I don't want to appear as if I am trying to play the comparison game with mine. But, at the same time, when life throws you a series of curve balls, it is often therapeutic to chronicle the twists and the turns that it brings. This is my attempt to do just that.

In January of this year I finally got around to making an appointment with my cardiologist over some concerns I was having about my heart health. I say "finally" because I had been experiencing some less than normal cardiac symptoms for almost a year, primarily a sensation that made it feel as if my heart was going to burst out of my chest with every heartbeat. Something inside of me told me that this wasn't normal, but since I had experienced a major open heart surgery in January of 2020, I wrongly assumed that what I was experiencing could be my new normal.

A visit to my cardiologist quickly corrected my error. I had developed what is called a fistula, a rupture between my aortic arch and my pulmonary artery, both major vessels that exit from the top of the heart. The situation I was in was a little more precarious than normal - my aortic arch was artificial (it had been replaced in 2020 due to an aneurysm) and the rupture between the two vessels was creating a lot of back pressure, giving me nasty case of pulmonary hypertension and placing me in heart failure. Needless to say, I needed another open heart surgery and I needed it soon. 

My wife and I jumped in the car on January 17 and drove to Winston-Salem so that I could undergo further testing from the surgical team that operated on me in 2020 at Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center. It didn't take long to realize that surgery was the only option, so on February 2, 2023, I was whisked away for my second open heart procedure in the past three years. Once I succumbed to the anesthesia and I fell into a deep sleep, everything changed in more ways than I could possibly imagine.

The surgery itself was a success with my surgeon being able to fix the rupture and repair several other areas of concern, but my body had other ideas. Over the next several days I experienced a series of medical emergencies that literally had my life hanging in the balance. The medical team had to shock my heart back into rhythm almost a dozen times and it was if my body was waging a coup against all that they were trying to do so save me. At one point the medical team advised that my wife, Kellie, that it appeared I might not make it. I needed a miracle. 

During all of this time I was completely oblivious to what was happening. I never woke up after the surgery and I was in the midst of what would wind up being a two and a half week coma. While everything was crashing down around me and my family was hanging in limbo, I was in a deep sleep, experiencing a supernatural peace. It would take dozens of pages to document all that I saw and experienced during the constant dreams that I experienced in my coma, but suffice it to say that I knew that the Lord was with me and He was carrying me every step of the way.

About a week after the surgery, my surgeon advised the rest of the medical team that it would be best to let my body rest until the next day and then he would perform further procedures if necessary. My chest had been left open for a week with a balloon pump in place after the surgery due to recurring complications that I was experiencing, so the plan was to take me down after those needed hours of rest to the operating room to close it and consider further options. Those precious hours were all that my body would need to turn the corner. It was then that my body decided it was time to kick it into gear and get better. After he closed my chest the next day, my vital signs started to improve, my heart began to be more responsive to treatment, and I gradually began to pull out of the medical funk that I was in. Indeed I was experiencing a bit of the miraculous that everyone had been praying for.

What followed after that were several days of weaning me off of the nearly 20 medications that had been keeping me alive and pumping into my body for the past couple of weeks. Doing so would allow me to finally wake up and face the long road of rehabilitation that lay ahead. Eventually I began to respond to verbal commands, the intubation tube was removed, and on February 17 I was finally lucid enough to answer questions from one of the ICU doctors - although I'm not gonna lie, my answers to his questions were pretty bizarre! That evening they moved me to a step-down cardiac unit where over the course of a few more days I gradually began to eat and drink liquids, move with assistance to a chair, and gather my bearings. 

During all of this time I lost almost 30 pounds and with it the ability to walk and have full use of my arms. Once they deemed me strong enough, I was moved to a rehabilitation wing of the hospital where I would undergo daily physical therapy to learn how to walk again as well as perform basic daily routines. The physical therapists, occupational therapist, and recreation theraptist that worked with me were nothing short of stellar and they pushed me to recover much quicker than either I or the medical team thought that I would. 

On February 28, 2023, after 39 days in the hospital, I walked out of Wake Forest Baptist Medical Center and headed home. Never had I been more grateful to breath fresh air or walk on my own without assistance. Over the next several months I would gradually regain my strength and most of my weight and I was even able to go back to work on light duty in April. I did experience a setback in June when it was discovered that I had developed a bacterial infection around my heart. What followed was ten more days in the hospital and then six more weeks with a PICC line in my arm pumping in antibiotics 24/7, but I finally was able to resume some sense of normalcy and enjoy the last couple of weeks of summer. 

Let me just say that life is precious. I have always enjoyed life and sought to pursue those things that I felt were meaningful, but being on the precipice of death and making it back certainly do bring about a new perspective. Because I'm a list kind of guy, I want to finish this with some vital lessons that I learned and still carry close to my heart (pardon the pun) as I move on from this life-altering experience.

1. My wife is amazing. If you know Kellie, then you already understand this to be true, but let me tell you that I do not believe that I would have survived without her love, devotion, and advocacy as a wife and nurse. She left my side only to sleep, worked remotely from my bedside, entertained countless well-wishers in the waiting room all while trying to hold our family together, and asked  lots of questions of the medical team all in an effort to make sure I was receiving the best possible care. The emotional and mental toll that this took on her is incalculable yet her love for me and her belief in my recovery spurred her on. Without her, I truly don't know that I would have made it. It's not possible for me to convey how much I love her.
   
2. God is so faithful. My faith has always been my constant and this situation only strengthened it all the more. While in my coma, I had encounters with the Lord that I firmly believe allowed me to fight on and make it through. When the medical team seemed to be out of options, God was just getting started. I can confidently say that without the intervention of the Lord I would not have survived, and for that I am eternally grateful to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.
3. My family and friends are blessings. There was extended family members such as my brother Chris and his wife Tiffany sitting with Kellie for hours on end and helping her to make decisions when she needed another voice in the room. My brother Parrish flying in from New York to be there for me and my family. There were neighbors and then aunt Carol from Kansas flying in to hold down the fort at home. Then there was my mother-in-law and father-in-law opening their home all hours of the day and night, providing amazing food, lots of comfort, and shoulders to cry on. Plus, my own four children came to see me even when I didn't know they were there, it was their presence, love, and prayers that pushed me forward. And the countless number of friends who called, dropped by the hospital, sat with me and listened to me ramble after I woke up, and sent cards, food, and care packages that cannot be underestimated in their importance. I would list their names but for the sake of offending someone that I might accidentally leave out, y'all know who you are. Thankful is simply not a strong enough word.
4. My medical team are rock stars. Simply put, my surgeon Dr. Neal Kon is world class as is my cardiologist and good friend Dr. Tim Winslow. All of the ICU nurses, cardiac team, and rehab clinicians were stellar and they were more than locked in every step of the way. While I would never wish what I went through on anyone else, I would recommend these guys to anyone who had health concerns. They are top notch. 

Every morning that I wake up, I see the day ahead of me as a blessing. I am still in the healing process and some days are better than others. One of the biggest struggles that I face is being patient with myself, knowing that I cannot push too hard too soon. Yet I know that I have been gifted a chance at life that I will never take for granted and always seek to embrace. God is good!