Post Heart Attack

Back Home Again in Indiana

One week removed from a heart attack in NYC, I’m glad to be back in the heartland.

I feel good! No pain. Riding my bike a bit. Attempting to move toward normal activity. But high energy yields almost immediately to “yeah, I need to slow down a bit, here.” Lots to do and catch up on with a low threshold of stamina for the time being. 

I continue to shake my head in disbelief that this happened. As fit and careful in eating as I am, why did this happen to me now? It’s still just sinking in that I’ll be addressing this little wrinkle in reality for the rest of my life. There's a bit of anger as I reckon with this. There's also quite a bit of gratitude and wonder.

Diet, physical exercise, lifestyle guardrails, and reasonable precautions are to be considered for a vigorous future. But I see creative work, more cycling adventures and my hope to run a marathon before age 70 as absolutely doable.

For now, though, I’ll settle to just walk and bike around our Near Eastside neighborhoods a bit.

Genetic footnote: the cardiologist at Lenox Hill Hospital in Manhattan attributes my heart attack mostly to genes. Given my physical condition, activity level, cholesterol counts, diet, and lack of other contributing factors, he encouraged me to fully explore family history and the role genetics is playing. So, that will be an interesting adventure in and of itself!

Don't write me off or discount my rehabbing capabilities. There's a lot more to come!

Sprung Out!

I’m out! Of Lenox Hill Hospital, that is.

After two heart catheterizations and sporting four cool stents in my heart, I walked out onto 77th Street on Thursday grateful to be alive and looking forward to a new lease on life.

I feel good. Weak, but good. Good enough to walk around a little near our Chelsea lodging Thursday evening.

I boldly desecrated Madison Square Garden with my Pacers’ “Why Not Indiana?” shirt. We ate the best tacos in NYC while listening to punk rock band Big Girl play outside MSG and Penn Station. It seemed like a fitting celebration.

I’m grateful for a timely intervention and caring staff at Lenox Hill Hospital. Lots of memorable encounters.

I’m grateful to Jodi for flying to Manhattan to support me. She’s now my “don’t you dare do that!” and “here’s what you need to eat instead” guide. Ha!

I’m grateful, also, for your kind comments, thoughts & prayers and encouragement. Thank you!

Here’s some of what I’m mulling over:

• Take nothing for granted.
• Don’t hesitate to ask for help.
• Cooperate with those who—believe it or not—know better than you about some things.
• Be kind to those who are sincerely trying to help you.
• Trust the process.
• Hope always.

Heart Attack in Manhattan

Seriously.

After seven days of vigorous trail riding and feeling better than ever, the day after finishing our 250-mile bike ride I have a heart attack.

On Sunday I’m climbing hills along the Hudson River. On Monday I’m trying to get rid of what feels like indigestion with chest pain. I try riding my bike in Central Park. No relief. I pedal a bit along the Empire State Trail in the city. No help.

I finally pedal to a med check clinic and wait an hour to be seen by a doctor. After reading the electrocardiogram (EKG), the physician sends me to an available cardiologist.

I ride the subway to Greenwich Village, where the cardiologist encourages me to go to a nearby hospital emergency room. So, I walk four blocks to the hospital.

At the ER, I am seen immediately and after a quick EKG, I'm taken urgently to an exam room that immediately fills with smart, earnest, serious-looking medical staff.

“You’re having a heart attack” the attending physician says. Her look of concern somehow relaxes me. I'm hooked up to monitoring machines and given drugs through IVs in each arm.

Next thing I know I’m in an ambulance being whisked uptown to Lenox Hill Hospital where I am rolled into an operating room and the heart catheterization began.

Ninety minutes later I’m in a CCU room sporting two heart stents, connected to beeping monitors and being attended to ‘round the clock.

Through all this traumatic whirlwind, I am incredibly calm--even chatting with the surgeon mid procedure about BBQ in Kansas City, which is where she's from and where I attended graduate school.

Post-op I feel fine—much better than I did on Monday. No chest pain.

Jodi graciously sets aside her work and flies to NYC to be with me in my situation. She offers incredible support.

The surgeon schedules me for a second heart cath and stent on what is known as “the widow maker” artery (70% blocked). She installs two more stents as we talk more about Kansas City and BBQ.

With four stents successfully installed in my heart, I begin to appeal to be discharged and be granted permission to fly home to Indianapolis. I am discharged on Thursday and fly home on Sunday.

I’m both grateful and puzzled. None of this makes sense. It is, to me, illogical. But there it is. The conclusion of this cycling event is the most unusual of all.

Adventure awaits—just maybe not the one we have imagined.