It’s something you read about or hear about. It’s something that happens to someone else.
Friday, November 11, Remembrance Day in Canada. Everything feels normal. My wife and I attend the memorial service at the municipal hall and walk to our local coffee place afterwards to warm up. All is good. Later in the day I feel inspired to sing a few songs so I head up the peninsula for Deep Cove’s monthly coffee house for open stage. I’m also looking forward to hearing the Awakeneers some of whom I met on my last trip to Tatla Lake in the Chilcotin.
I’m next to last of the open stage performers and I really get into my two newest songs “Too Many People” and “Clint’s Song -Don’t let that Old man In”. After a wonderful positive reception and an immediate invite to return as feature performer, I take a seat at the back of the hall to hear the next singer. But something isn’t right.
I get this uncomfortable feeling in my chest that doesn’t want to leave me, even after a few good sips of water, which I use to get rid of an occasional esophagal spasm. The feeling becomes a tightness and I decide to pack up my guitar and hit the road. I say goodbye to no one as I don’t want to be delayed.
Now I’m on the highway, speeding. About twenty minutes down the road I phone my wife. “I need you to take me to the hospital. Can you meet me at the door?” Ten minutes later I’m at our door but the pain has gone. I’m tempted to just take a Tylenol and leave it at that but my cautious nature insists that I get it checked out.
Arriving at Royal Jubilee Hospital, I go through the check in process and wait at triage. Perhaps they don’t get it that I’m a potential heart attack as the sign says that there may be a two to four hour wait to see a doctor. But they’ve done the preliminary blood work and I’ve been told I’ll have to give more blood after an hour or two. Seemingly the heart gives off an enzyme if it has been damaged. Initial diagnosis is non stable angina. The second blood test confirms that my heart has been damaged and I’m admitted to emergency as I wait to be shifted upstairs to the cardiac ward. It’s puzzling for all concerned that apart from my initial chest pain, I’ve had no shortness of breath, no radiating pain in my arm, neck or jaw, no swelling at my ankles.
After a sleepless night in Emerge, Saturday evening I’m transferred upstairs to the cardiac ward for an angiogram the following morning. I’m all hooked up to a mobile monitor, constantly being poked and prodded and ingesting lots of drugs. Sunday morning I’m wheeled into the theatre for the angiogram. It’s fascinating. There I am with a minor amount of sedation watching my living heart beating on a large TV screen as the wire is inserted through a tiny hole in my wrist, through an artery and up into my heart. As arteries don’t have nerves, I feel no discomfort. Then a warm gush flows through me as the trace dye is sent in so they can map out any blockage. Yup. There’s a blockage alright. I get a stent, a tiny piece of mesh that is inserted and expanded by a balloon which is then deflated and withdrawn leaving me with an alien piece of technology in my chest. The whole procedure takes 20-30 minutes and then I’m wheeled back to the recovery room where the nurse carefully and gradually releases air from the vacuum bandage on my wrist.
I’m given some meds and a prescription to have filled. I have heart disease. I’ll be on meds for the rest of my life. After four hours I’m up, dressed and on my way home. My new life as a survivor has begun. I’m lucky. Sometimes the first time is for keeps - no warnings.
Here are my reflections a few days on. It is a poem - perhaps a song eventually:
Shadows
Somewhere inside, there are shadows on my walls
That no one knows about - not even me
Somewhere inside there are shadows on my walls
That no one knows about - not even me.
My father had a house once that didn’t last too long
Too many shadows on the walls,
One moment here, the next one gone.
My mother had a house once filled with smoky rooms
Took eighty years and more, to bring it down in ruins
So where do I go from here- it’s clear
things can never be the same
The shadows will remain
And do I live in fear?
Is this my destiny - as one might suppose
A prisoner of my DNA, something I never chose.
Somewhere inside there are shadows on my walls
That no one knows about - not even me
Somewhere inside there are shadows on my walls
That no one knows about - not even me.