A heartfelt message

     Like to wear the shirt with this message  because every time I do, people comment on it.

     Special reason for posting it with this blog because ... today marks an anniversary.

     Five years ago today doctors saved my life. It was the day of the triple bypass for my heart.

     Hello, glad to be here.

     I feel fine, although, well, five years older. Still exercising, but not quite as much as before the 2019-20 discomfort down my left arm told me that -- maybe -- something wasn't right.

     But no issues now, other than sore knees and sore feet from my walks and exercise classes. Yes, still walking 2-3 times a week (and for those of you who know, still picking up loose coins and sometimes even paper money).

     I weigh more than I need to because the ice cream, cookies and cake I so like much take up residence around my (expanded) waist.

     Don't like thinking about it, or looking at it. But it doesn't keep me from activities ... or eating. 

      Life's good, although it has its issues. Staying busy here at Trinity Terrace, our seniors residency in Fort Worth, but did give up "recruiting" for The Country Store volunteers and stocking between store shifts. Six years was enough of that.

     Still organizing our weekly Thursday afternoon Social Hour, lining up program guests -- speakers or music or special events -- and, without panicking, trying to find replacements for the occasional late postponements.

      That's fun.

      Trying to spend more time with my best friend and roommate of 48 years, the beautiful and intelligent Beatrice. She is facing some challenges. Please excuse that I don't want to go into much detail.

      So appreciative and proud of our family -- the kids (Jason and Rachel, and son-in-law Russell) and our  spectacular and interesting grandkids -- Josie, 17; Jacob, 16; Kaden, 14; Eli, 10. My gosh, they are growing up.

     Plus, the extended Van Thyn/Wellen and Shaw-related families. 

      And we've gotten so much love and support from the friends from far back -- Shreveport-Bossier/North Louisiana/Louisiana, in general, all the way to Israel, Belgium and, of course, the Netherlands, where it all began for me.

     Also, the friends we've made over the years in athletics and newspapers, and since our move to Fort Worth in late 2001 and especially Trinity Terrace in June 2018.

      Maybe it's corny to say, but my heart is full. And it works.

       It is difficult to learn of the deaths of so many friends these days, especially those from way back in Shreveport-Bossier and the more recent ones here at Trinity Terrace.  

       Back to May 2020, when the pandemic kept me from having any visitors during the eight-day hospital stay. Let's say that the first month after the surgery -- before starting rehab -- was as painful and difficult as I have ever faced physically.

      After a couple of weeks, when every move hurt, Bea and I went for a walk in a nearby parking lot. It was slanted, and going downhill was slow but no problem. A couple of steps uphill, and nope, time to go home.

      Soon, I was stronger and the six weeks of rehab actually was kind of good. Still, I would prefer not to have to do it again.

      Kept my little blue pillow, which pressed against my heart area, eased the pain for the first month after surgery. It's right here next to my desk. Just a reminder.

      An older man here, learning of my triple bypass, told me then that he had his triple 15 years earlier. So it's now 20 years for him ... and he just turned 100. So there.

      No guarantees, of course, but 100 looks a long way off. I'll take 78 in a less than a month.

      And if I'm lucky, I will write about the 10-year anniversary five years from now. Stay tuned.  

---

     From five years ago -- the triple bypass adventure:

https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2020/05/its-heart-that-counts-most.html

     

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.