Paul's Heart

Life As A Dad, And A Survivor

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“LIMA” Attacks


You can relax.  I am not referring to the capital of Peru.

A different world completely, I am referring to the world of cardiology, LIMA, known as “left internal mammary artery”, used in coronary artery bypasses in certain circumstances.  And in my case, my life-saving bypass procedure was done via “LIMA.”

The surgical procedure of redirecting blood flow around a blockage, using a grafted vein, is called a bypass.  A patient may need to have any number from singular to five bypasses to avoid a fatal cardiac event.  Typically, the patient’s own body will supply a vein from their own body to be harvested and used to perform this bypass.  This vein may come from the arm or the leg.  Depending on the circumstance, like my unique health background, upon removing a vein from my leg, realizing it had been compromised due to radiation therapy for my Hodgkin’s Lymphoma decades ago, my surgeon had no other choice than to use a “mammary artery.”  In fact, the mammary artery used, was actually split to bypass a second blockage, not just the major blockage of my left anterior descending artery.

There are pluses and minuses to this option.  A big minus to the LIMA is, there are no other options from my own body for any future bypasses.  The condition of my veins in my body leave them unusable.  So, if I were to need any further bypass procedure, I would guess I would either be looking at cadaver or pig veins.  But I am not going there, at least not yet.

The plus to using the mammary artery, the one end is already attached, meaning only the end on the other side of the blockage needs to be attached.  Plus, being an artery, it can handle a higher pressure than that of a vein.

That is as technical as I am going to get on this post.  Because as the title suggests, something has been getting my attention.

Prior to my bypass, I had symptoms for four months.  I ignored them, but they definitely got my attention.  My father had a major heart attack.  So I understand following my bypass, I need to listen to my body when it gives warnings.

For the first three or four years, my recovery from my bypass was flawless.  Of course I was dealing with my other late developing side effects from my treatment now making themselves known.  But in February of 2013, I developed a pain in my left breast, that left me paralyzed where I stood, afraid to move.  Afraid that one simple step towards help, might trigger a fatal cardiac event.  This pain lasted about a minute, and upon its relief, I went straight to the hospital.  Doctors all agreed that something had happened, but were unable to determine just what, and sent me home.

Fast forward to the end of the summer of 2019, I would have several of these mini episodes of that similar pain.  Knowing that it was nothing of real concern based on the last episode, I was not worried.  And again, these “attacks” subsided.  However, in September, one of these attacks came on, and it did not stop.  I was afraid, this was going to be “the real thing”.  At the half hour point, I made the decision to go to the emergency room.

Treated with nitroglycerin (not enough to explode me to pieces) to open up my circulatory system rapidly (warning… major headache was a side effect), the pain was relieved.  But once again, extensive testing revealed nothing.  Repairs that I had done previously were all in tact.  Doctors did not doubt that something was happening.  They just were not able to pinpoint what.

So, as I qualified for cardiac rehabilitation due to the stent I had placed in another major artery earlier in the year, I complied with the 3-day-a-week regimen for the last several months.  And again, being monitored, my body is acting and behaving the way it is expected to.  And then on Sunday, another one of those attacks came on, but like the older ones, minor and short in duration.

As I am prone to do, and as I have mad respect for them, I find that you can get a lot more information, and time, in talking to a nurse than your actual doctor (I am lucky that I am able to have this luxury with both doctor and nurse).  It was during a recent cardiac rehab session that I mentioned this “attack” to the cardiac nurse.  And that is when she told me about… “LIMA attacks.”

She described them perfectly as “lightning strikes.”  Now, while I have never personally been struck by lighting to explain how that feels, the description of quick and short in duration, and attention getting, fit perfectly to a lightning strike.

It turns out, these attacks are actually common for those who had LIMA bypasses.  Who knew?  She assured me that while they are uncomfortable and alarming, they do not foreshadow any pending cardiac event.  I have an upcoming appointment with my cardiologist, when I will ask and get a much more detailed explanation of this phenomenon.  I want to make sure that I explain it accurately, not just for those reading this, but for my sake as well.

It All Seems So Long Ago


Reality is beginning to set in for me.  My daughters are growing up.  I knew it would happen.  I saw it happen to all the kids of my friends.  Nobody seems to have been able to stop time so that we can hold on to these childhoods, just a little bit longer.

I do miss the days of Backyardigans and Little Einsteins, messy table settings, and telling bedtime stories and singing lullabies to my daughters.

A promise I made to myself, and I would think every parent would want the same, was to make sure that my children were not only prepared for their future, but would also be given as best an opportunity to get there.  We should always want better for our children.  I know that I do.

In recent years, homework assignments have become much more serious, and detailed.  Social and recreational activities soon needed to be scheduled.  And of course, shopping for clothing is no longer done at the Children’s Place or Justice.

The reality of growing up occurred recently as I took my daughters clothing shopping, partly to see if they could spend their Christmas gift cards, the other, with a specific task of choosing a dress for a school dance.  I, as well as my opinion, have been replaced by sibling support.  I get to participate only as a witness, only as a courtesy.  Together, the two sisters decided which looks best on who.  I am just driving them from store to store.

With both daughters in the final quarter of their secondary education, they are encouraged to begin to consider the direction in life that they want to take.  My daughters are sisters, both are intelligent, and other than those facts, any comparison of the two is completely unfair to both.  The ideas that both are considering for their futures could not be any more different from achieving higher education to job selection.  How both get to their goals ultimately will be up to each of themselves.  It is my job as their father, to make sure that they have the opportunities, and to help figure out how to get there.  And I want only for them to have that success.  And other than my health issues, it is the futures of my daughters that consume my time.

As both continue to progress, and earn their own individual accolades and achievements, I offer nothing less than praise and congratulations.  Like any proud parent, admittedly I probably go overboard with the amount of “I am proud of you” I give to each of my daughters.  Again, they are each their own person, their own personality, their own style, and their own future.  But they are sisters.  Most importantly, their achievements, have been because of their own hard work.

I should not be shocked by where I am at right now in parenthood.  It is what drives me every day.  My doctors have told me, together they will make sure that in spite of my health issues, I will get to see my daughters grow old.  And in order to get there, that means accepting they are getting older as well.

I miss those younger years.  But man… the memories I am making today are so worth it.

More Than Just A Resolution


I stopped making New Year’s resolutions long ago.  I simply do not like obligating myself to do things.  My inspiration is simply my will to want to do it.  Exercise is one of those things that is often challenged as a resolution, and as a survivor of so many different health issues, I do not need any incentive to make exercise a resolution.  That does not change the fact, that it is something that I should want to make a part of my every day life.

Even with my physical limitations, there is nothing really stopping me from daily walks except for when climate is involved.  Range of motion prevents my arms from elevating to a certain point, but it does not prevent me using my arms.  So that means really, any kind of limit or prevention that I have to doing any exercise, is mostly mental.

Up until my emergency heart bypass back in 2008, I would consider myself an average exerciser.  Average in that I  would exercise, now and then, and again, and so forth.  Being somewhat overweight, and hearing regular lectures from my doctor about “being shorter” than my doctor, meant I needed to “weigh less” than my doctor, while I was very much interested in building strength, I knew I needed to burn calories in order to lose weight.

I had gained over 70 pounds since my last chemotherapy (and radiation).  Although the pieces of the puzzle at that time had not been put together, it was just assumed that my thyroid had something to do with the weight issue.  Of course it would later be discovered how badly my thyroid was affected during my cancer days.  Anyway, that is another post.

In January of 2008, I made my final resolution ever, to get into shape, to lose the weight, once and for all.   I would spend about an hour doing cardio, and another forty-five minutes in the strength training.  Having done weight training before, I already knew the plan I wanted to follow.  But in order to burn calories, I had to do a little investigation first, which would help me to burn more, and faster.

The eliptical, stepper, or stryder, would be the equipment I would use for that purpose.  With different levels of effort, due to either speed, or tension, I estimated I would be able to burn close to a thousand calories in an hour.  I would spend an hour on the machine, then head over to the gym for strengthening.

On the center grips, there are two metal grips, that sense your heart rate.  Obviously, getting your heart rate to increase to a targeted range, is what would help burn the calories.  That is all I knew.

Here is what happened.

I would start to step, increasing my speed, and tension.  Within less than a minute, I would have a tightness across the left side of my chest, almost like a cramp, much like a side sticker when running in cold weather.  As uncomfortable as it felt, I followed the “no pain no gain” mantra.  After all, the heart rate display was showing, my heart rate was indeed increasing, which I needed it to do.

That said, I am NOT a physical fitness expert, and the level that my heart rate was not only increasing, but the actual rate it got to, was not only safe, it could have been fatal for me.  (please read  my page, CABG – More Than Just A Green Leafy Vegetable and you will read what happened).

My heart rate went from the mid-70’s to 152 within less than a minute.  Unfortunately, that discomfort that I had, went away after a minute.  And with my heart rate elevated like I thought it was supposed to, I just kept on going, for the remaining 59 minutes, and then over to the gym.  No pain, no gain.

I did this for five days a week, until the middle of April when it was discovered that I had a “widow maker” blockage to the main artery going to my heart, blocked 90%.  I would discover this was caused also by my treatments for Hodgkin’s Lymphoma.

My cardiologist gave me the somber words, “it was not a question of ‘if’ you were going to die, but ‘when'”.  Some how, I got through 100 sessions of exercising with a near fatal condition, not dropping over dead.

Why am I bringing this up?

Because, as a cardiac patient and survivor, I have annual follow-ups, and have had additional issues.  And just as I had to complete cardiac therapy following my bypass, I found myself recently being required to go through additional therapy.  The goal, to get a better control on my blood pressure and perhaps help with my circulation.  In the beginning, it seemed similar to what I had gone through previously as far as exercises… a treadmill, a hand bike, a bike.

After two weeks, I was informed of an additional exercise.

I stood there paralyzed with an unrecognizable fear.  As with other issues that can trigger my cancer-related PTSD, this moment was one of those moments.  This machine literally nearly killed me.  And I was expected to get on it again.  I had refused to even go near this machine with the numerous gym memberships I had, since April of 2008 because of what happened.

I was not being given any choice in the matter.  The cardiac therapist wanted me to maximize my routine and health benefits, and just like before, this was going to do it.

But unlike the last time I stepped onto this machine, I was being monitored.  My blood pressure, and my heart rate were all being monitored by a nurse sitting at a computer station.  And I needed to trust my therapists.  I had seen them in action when someone’s vitals were not right, and they interceded.  I really had nothing to fear.  I needed to get back on to that machine.

It has been over a month now, and this is the result.

That is right.  Exercising at the speed shown, and the tension shown, my heart rate was 121 at the five minute mark, just 7 beats below my maximum.  This was a huge hurdle for me to get over.  I am no longer intimidated, um… afraid of this machine.

The records kept while I have been going through this program show I have been doing the right thing.  The results physically may not show (as far as my weight), but blood work and physiology are showing that I am doing the right thing.  This cannot be a resolution for me.  Resolutions are not kept.  This is a lifestyle I need to keep up when my therapy program is over.

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