You don't have to send me flowers (but you did)

     Forgive me for an overall "thank you" note, rather than an individual reply. Trying to save some of my valuable time.
     We are so grateful, so appreciative for the outpouring of love and good wishes shown us in the past week.
     It makes my damaged heart feel so much better, and Beatrice wants to add how much she appreciates it, too.

     The response to the blog from earlier this week was terrific, through e-mail, Facebook and cards. We've heard from friends everywhere -- starting, of course, with our roots in Louisiana. And our fellow residents here at Trinity Terrace -- and some staff -- have been as outstanding, as we knew they would be.
     The centerpiece, as you can see in this photo set up by Bea, is this flower arrangement sent by our next-door neighbors, Karen and Dr. Dwight Beery. The delivery of those brought some tears.
     But kindness has been delivered from everywhere.
     The recovery is going to be an 8- to 12-week process, and I've never been known for patience. But as a patient, patience is a must. So I will be taking it slow and easy; not going to attempt too much too soon.
      It is, as you might feel, a sad time in America if you follow the daily news as much as we do. Could be quite depressing when combined with this slog of personal recovery that we're facing. 
      But I refuse to give in to the depression that always is  possible after a major surgery. And I remain hopeful and optimistic that we as Americans and as a people world-wide will find the way, as I see it, to advance the mission of mankind -- to make life better for everyone.
      Take care. See you down the road.

    

It's the heart that counts most

          OK, about the angiogram/CABG double play and my eight-day "vacation" at Texas Health Harris Methodist Hospital, only a few blocks from here in Fort Worth ...

Here is where eight days of my life meant a repaired heart.

     Came home Tuesday afternoon, and I'm here in the apartment,  and just happy to be here.

     Lucky to be here, actually. 

     Anytime in the last year and a half could have been the end for me, really.

     But I'm here, I'm good, I'm mending, and -- doctors tell me -- that with care and better habits (eating, exercise) -- I'll be here a good while longer to bug you.

     Not looking for attention with this piece -- I get lots of attention -- and certainly not looking for sympathy. But I am here to tell you that if you have a feeling in your chest that's bothersome (or worse), get it checked ... repeatedly.

     Don't be like me, and try to play through it. Did not push hard enough to find what was going on.

     There are a couple of dozen family members and longtime good friends who know where I've been and what I've been through. The word spread around Trinity Terrace -- our seniors residency -- but not everyone here knew.

     I am not one for posting play-by-play on Facebook or e-mail, especially not on health matters. Some people do, with gory photos to add. No, thank you. 

     Choose to write and post after the fact, same as with the intestional blockage six years ago, and another eight-day stay in the same hospital. 

     That was no fun. This was worse, and more crucial.

     So about CABG. That's not cabbage (not much of a fan). That's Coronoary Artery Bypass Graft surgery. Simpler terms: open-heart surgery and, for me, a triple bypass.

     I hit a triple, and it's not baseball or a 3-point basket.

     I don't recommend it. But it was necessary, a no-choice option. You've gotta have heart, and mine was blocked, and failing.

---      

     People know that, for two decades, I have gone on long walks through streets, drive-throughs, parking lots. Started yoga classes a decade ago. More recently, I added all sorts of exercise classes -- yoga, strength training, water aerobics.

     In the last couple of years, there was this growing "discomfort," "pressure," "heavy feeling" on the left side of my chest up through my left sinus cavity and just a touch down the left arm. Happened on many (but not all) of my walks and during exercise classes. It was a distraction.

     But it was never painful, and always gone after a moment or two, or a brief stop.

     Kept thinking my issue was too much weight -- a gain of 15 pounds in a year. Felt uncomfortable, but not limiting.

     Kept telling Bea about the pressure, kept telling my doctors, and they ran me through a number of tests. It never left. I passed a stress test with surprising ease about a year ago. 

      Developed atrial fibrillation (Afib) -- irregular heartbeat, stroke-threatener -- several months ago. A cardioversion (shock) treatment worked on the first try to put my heartbeat back into rhythm. Added lots of medicines (blood-pressure, blood-thinner, etc.)

      After several long walks in April, the "problem" kept calling. But, again, it was OK after brief stops.
      Really clueless about how much danger I was in. 

      With our place pretty much locked down during the pandemic, Bea and I were taking short walks in the area. On the last day of April, a Thursday, we went about two minutes ... and I felt the pressure, and felt ill. Hurried home, went to bed, and was OK after about 10 minutes.

    Every day after that, there was a slight-to-bothersome headache and that same feeling anytime I exerted myself.

     On my annual physical and on a visit to the cardiologist within two days, I stressed the discomfort-pressure-tight feeling. The cardiologist set me up for an angiogram.

    (Crucial point here: I was going to wait until June 8 for the angiogram. But after a couple of days of nagging, Bea -- the nervous wreck who runs this apartment and has run our house and lives for 43 years -- insisted I move it up. All she did, likely, was save my life).

    The angiogram -- the diagnostic procedure to X-ray blood vessels in which a long flexible catherer is inserted through a spot in the wrist (my right one) or a thigh -- showed major blockages of 100 percent, 100 percent and 75 percent.

     Great percentages if you're shooting free throws. Related to the heart, "we found a helluva mess," Dr. Gurpreet Baweja told Bea.

---

     The CABG, delayed a day because kidney numbers weren't quite where they needed to be, was Thursday, May 21, and it was a 5 a.m. wakeup call.

     After about 6:15 a.m., I was out of it. It's a 3 1/2 to 4-hour procedure, and you come out of it with a broken chestbone, some nice incisions, bruising, and tubes and wires ... lots of tubes and wires. Glad I didn't have to see that picture.

     So, thank you, to Dr. Carlos L. Macias and his team. Imagine, they do this once or twice a day most weeks. Wow.

     In this time, we hear so much about the great things doctors and nurses do. We always know that, and we should  not take it for granted (but we do). 

      The staff at Harris Methodist, in every instance, was so damn good -- especially Dr. Macias & Co., his nurse practictioner (who gave me a booklet and printed sheets of guidelines on what to do now), and the conscientious personnel in the Intensive Care Unit (spent two days there) and on the fourth floor of the Heart Center (three days there).

     Thank you, thank you, thank you.

     Go for a CABG, and see for yourself.

     A couple of my really close friends have had bypass operations, and their guidance (by text and e-mail) was so helpful to me. And a couple of people -- my sister Elsa, and best-friend-since-sixth-grade Casey -- reached out again and again. 

---       

     I'm one of the lucky people; I have always known that and said that. This is just the latest example.

     Great family -- Bea, the two kids, the four spectacular grandkids, Elsa and all her "new" family, Bea's extended Shaw family. Great friends from all over and way back -- school, work -- at many stops in many places. Satisfying career that, looking back, I am proud of, no matter how many times I messed up. (And I did.)

      Love my Amsterdam and Holland heritage, my North Louisiana and Louisiana roots, especially love our forever hometown, Fort Worth, and the "family" we are part of at Trinity Terrace.

      Received a dozen cards from fellow residents, and our great friends Nell and Bill Gould sent a "care" package to the hospital. 

      People have been so kind, so helpful, especially our next-door neighbors (Dr. Beery, Dr. Malmstrom and Dr. Smith). 

      People offer to help in any way. Appreciate that. What can you do? Aw, heck, send money. Yeah, that's it. 

      I'm just kidding. 

      Dr. Baweja, personable and encouraging, assured me that "you will feel so much better in a few days and you will be better than ever."

      That's the intention, and I am on the way.   

Facebook messages received ...

     So how's your coronavirus vacation going?
      Would not say that we are bored; we can find enough to do -- reading, studying our computer and/or I-Pads, and watching lots and lots of television "news" -- but we are not as busy as we were before, either.
      How about you?
      Interesting to watch the debate on when and how things -- well, our world -- should open up again. Seems to me that it's become a political divide (isn't everything these days?), and I am not about to delve into that argument. Not here, not on this blog.
      Make up your own mind. And if you go out into public often enough -- mask or no mask, social distancing or not -- good luck. Don't be afraid. Don't be lax, either. 
       We did go, carefully, on a shopping trip to our favorite Costco this morning -- we had items we needed -- and then on a walking trip to the credit-union drive-through across the street from our facility, I happened to see the Blue Angels flyover in Fort Worth that had many of our residents excited to see. 
      Here is the link to those few moments, as posted on Facebook this morning: 
  https://www.facebook.com/TrinityTerraceTX/videos/2914550845259066/?t=5 
       We will keep our distance, and I will keep researching on the Louisiana sports-related project which I have been grinding on lately.
     It is good, though, to see our neighbors and fellow residents here at the compound -- even at a distance and (most often) masked -- and neighbor Dr. John suggested, "I haven't seen any of your blogs lately."
     Told him I was working on a couple, and so here is the first.
---
      These are three notes I received by Facebook Messenger last week, reminders of family and published work -- blogs and the book -- done in recent years.
      ● Dr. Larry Joseph Rapp Jr., a two-year Centenary College student from New Orleans and then an LSU-BR graduate, sent this note:
    "Hi Mr. Van Thyn, 
     "You don't know me but I just want to say thank you for compiling your parents' stories. I was fortunate enough to see your mother speak at Centenary College in the early 2000s. She was so memorable that nearly 20 years later I had to find out more.
     "Thanks to Wikipedia, I think I found out about your book. My mother read it first; I just finished it, and I will certainly share it with anyone who will read it. You probably hear this frequently; at least I hope you do. Your parents would be proud of and honored by your work."
      Joseph went on to earn a doctorate in physical therapy from the University of South Alabama and has accepted an offer to work for the Department of Defense at Hurlburt Field AFB (in the Florida Panhandle) as director of physical therapy.
      ● B. Wade Brooks, a Benton resident and school teacher who attended Parkway High in Bossier City and then the University of Central Arkansas and University of Tenneseee, sent a note asking to contact a friend about another matter, and then added: "I saw your mother (Mrs. Rose) speak at Shreve Memorial Library one afternoon. Our kids need to hear those type stories these days." 
     Paid special attention to this surprising message: 
     ● "My name is Joe Sanders. I am the son of Leen Sanders. I just read an article  you wrote about my father and his actions as a prisoner in Auschwitz. Things I was never aware of. I am not much of a reader, but I really enjoyed reading your story about my father. 
     "Thank you so much. Joe Sanders."
---
     These are gratifying, of course, and the Joe Sanders note particularly was/is intriguing. Leen Sanders was the Dutch boxing champion/hero -- my Dad's hero -- who was the subject of a blog piece 6 1/2 years ago as part of the blog series on my father's story and it is Chapter 16 in the book about my parents and our family. 
      So I did contact Joe, we have exchanged messages over the past week, and I am about to follow up with more on the Leen Sanders story -- yeah, the rest of the story -- and Joe's perspective on life with his parents.
     As one of our favorite talk show hosts/analysts says: Watch this space.