Darren Ings - Heart Valve Journal

4005 days ago

It\'s been a week since my last post. 3 days after the ablation I woke up feeling different. A Good Different. I am now feeling like myself - for the 1st time ...Read more

Darren Ingsposted a journal

4012 days ago

Therapy. Back home this afternoon after ablation surgery yesterday in Halifax. I was very worked up about this procedure but resigned myself to rise above ...Read more

Therapy. Back home this afternoon after ablation surgery yesterday in Halifax. I was very worked up about this procedure but resigned myself to rise above it and take it head on. So at pre-op I was met by a great bunch of nurses and they reviewed what they intended on doing that day and what to expect tomorrow. Then I was asked into a room to sign the permission forms with a young female doctor that couldn’t speak English well enough for me to understand. Not that she wasn’t bright, it was a battle of my fair hearing and her poor dialect. When she asked, “Are you sure you wish to proceed?”, she ended the sentence with an incorrect English phrasing that ends with a higher tone. It implies “Are you crazy”? Yes, I’m crazy! You all know that! I signed the form but felt quite uncomfortable with this doctor that I had never met before. Tuesday morning began with the admitting and then the famous shave. Yep, down below and the top half of my chest and back. After waiting almost 3 hours we get the call to hop on the bed and head to the O/R. After a 1/2 hour or more wait in the recovery room before entering the cath theatre I was asked to move from my bed onto the operating table. I wasn\'t phased about any of it. 2 years ago I was frozen with fear. Now I’m processing my surroundings like it’s just another McDonald’s. It is weird though - laying on a table they remove your Johnny and attached your cardiac wiring. You lie back buck bare. A nurse prepares the groin site by swabbing you with an ample supply of a solution like Iodine. (Note to guys, make sure your favorite friend doesn’t lie in the crease of your groin. The solution stings so bad you will try to move him to higher ground with your fingers. You will then get growled at by the nurse and she will move him for you and then reapply the solution. I won’t elaborate any further). They then place theses really neat plastic type sheets on you that make you feel warm while leaving your upper leg/ groin site open for the surgeon. 20 minutes or more go by and the nurses have now prepared the tables with the instruments and probes. The screens for the surgeon are all lit up with all your heart stats. My rates and flutter were all over the map. I\'m pretty good at reading the QRS and could see how I was running at 6-7 to 1 in flutter with my BPM running between 38 and 68, but 90% of the time I was suffering from Bradycardia at 40BPM. Next thing the wonderful EP doctor I had met a month earlier - Dr. Parkash, pops over to say hello while my head is on it\'s side on the operating table. She has a nice face and the weird angle view I had had her turning her head to match mine. I was glad to see her. I guessed she left for the lab control room to operate the laser while another surgeon – a Chinese doctor begins freezing my groin for the sheath and probes that will be inserted into my heart. Seemed like only minutes but I asked him when he was going to place the sheath and he replied, \"I already have it inside your vein\". I was both pleasantly surprised and glad as it didn\'t hurt anymore than a minor mosquito bite. This guy was good! A voice comes over the speaker in the ceiling from the lab. It’s Doctor Parkash and she says they\'ll be starting the procedure in a minute. Suddenly my heart does a skip and a jump which was a strange sensation. She came back on the speaker and said they were ready to begin. They must have a good microphone near me and I asked what the sensation was and she replied back through the speaker they had done a heart pacing. It was time. If you\'ve read my other entries you know I am quite deep. I approached the open heart surgery 2 years ago much like a coward. This time I was firm on setting the record straight that I was going to take this procedure like a man. I said I was ready to Doctor Parkash. I wanted to watch the screens while they were doing the laser scarring. I was not going to let this opportunity get away from me. I was told the day before in an honest conversation with a Nurse Practitioner that some people don’t mind the procedure and that others find it intense and don’t make it through without major sedation or being knocked out. Well, I wanted to watch the flutter disappear and have that Eureka moment on the QRS screen. You know, when that final zap of the laser has beat the flutter and life goes back to being the new \"normal\" again, at least until the valve goes bad - hopefully in 10 years or more! Have you ever burned yourself with a wood carving kit or soldered wires together with a soldering iron and gotten too close to the tip and gotten your finger tips burned? That\'s what it feels like. Inside your heart. I winced at the first burn. The second one was 1.5 times worse. By the third burn I was starting to gasp. Dr. Parkash in the lab asked me how I was doing. I said fine depending on how many more times she was going to burn me. She said likely 16 in total. I told her I\'d do my best but I was worried. Another zap and I was beginning to believe I couldn\'t get to 16. Each burn was becoming harder to take as one was stacked on the other. On the 8th burn I had started to twist and turn like you do when faced with pain you can no longer take. I was grimacing hard like you do in the gym when you need that extra grunt to get the last rep. I had begun to move myself around on the table in an attempt to escape the pain. I was worried I would move the wires in my heart while she was ablating me and cause myself damage. At this point the pain and procedure was coming to hard and too fast for me to try and make sense of. I knew I was in trouble. Dam, I wanted to prove I could do this and I felt it slipping away. Located to my immediate left, the large video screens and all the hi-tech machinery became invisible during the procedure. I was focusing on the pain and looking at the ceiling above me - totally trying to get through the procedure and not let myself down on taking this head on. Dam, I couldn’t turn my head anymore to the left to see the monitors. I had become incapacitated by the ablation. I’ve had open heart surgery and I’ve had my right index finger cut off and I haven’t felt pain as bad as this. The doctor came back on the speaker and said that they would give me some drugs to ease the pain. I thought to myself, “Good, then I can watch the screens and not be struggling with focusing on pain”. That\'s the last thing I remember. I woke up in the operating theatre – alone. Everyone was gone. At least that’s my perspective. The large video screens that were so brightly lit were now dead. The room was dim. I started calling out “hello” and on the 4th call I heard someone in the other end of the room say “hello” back to me. A few minutes later I was moved back onto my bed and wheeled into the recovery room I had waited in pre- procedure. Someone then took me back to my room. My groin wasn’t sore like my heart cath 2 years ago. But I had this terrible feeling. The whole time after waking up I’m now thinking to myself – I failed. I never got the Eureka moment. I never saw the QRS revert back to an NSR. I failed and let myself and the doctors down. I couldn’t do it. My wife – bless her, was waiting for me. She asked me how it went. I replied, I don’t know”. I didn’t know. I’ve been cardioverted 3 times. I felt the tingle of my skin where it was burnt from the paddles. I realized they cardioverted me. When did they do that? Why? A hundred questions. I laid there on the bed motionless, as instructed by my nurse. They don’t want the vein to pop and blood to start running down my leg. Either did I. A couple hours later the Chinese surgeon who had so skillfully worked the wires into my groin and heart dropped by. I had a 100 questions. Did I already say that? Obviously a skilled doctor, he seemed to have a limited English vocabulary, although his diction was very good. “How did I do”, I asked. “Pretty good”, he replied. Pretty good? What does that mean? He couldn’t seem to find the right words to explain. After an exchange of questions that didn’t seem to get answered, he passed my wife a sheet of paper for us to take back to my GP here on the Island. The handwritten duplicate stated the ablation procedure was a success without complications. Good thing I have the paper. Otherwise I wasn’t sure. I guess I did pretty good. I feel I failed. I never got that moment I craved. I never made it through the procedure consciously. I never proved myself, I never got to see the screens lite up showing my new NSR, and I don’t know what happened after the 8th laser and why and when was I cardioverted? I’m home, I’m itchy, and last night at the hotel I woke at 3:30 in such pain in my heart that I was shaking. After my wife called the QEII to see it this was “normal”, a sleeping pill, a couple Ibuprofen, and total exhaustion got me back to sleep. I’m still asking myself, “What is Pretty Good”? I don’t know, but I’m home. I wish I had 20 minutes with Dr. Parkash. She could answer all my questions and fulfill the mystery that now lives within me. I used to love Halifax. It was my favorite city. I had so many good times partying with my buddies when they were in University there in the late 70’s and early 80’s. The Toga parties at Fenwick, The Frat parties, The Midtown, the LBR! Then it became a city my wife and I loved to visit. I don’t feel the same about it anymore. I still have 100 questions. Darren

Darren Ingsposted a journal

4793 days ago

Xanax is a wonder drug for my nerves. It makes me very settled, logical, and I can handle large amounts of pressure despite the sometimes overwhelming situations ...Read more

Xanax is a wonder drug for my nerves. It makes me very settled, logical, and I can handle large amounts of pressure despite the sometimes overwhelming situations I may be experiencing at that time. I have been using it on an occasional basis for 12 years. An hour after having .5mg of Xanax gives me some kind of unexplainable ability to take a lot of stress and the strong Darren can last 8 plus hours without a hitch. I usually only take ½ a dose or .25mg for some relief from my anxiety, usually at bedtime. Xanax is highly addictive and I use it very sparingly. I also want the small doses I use to remain as effective as larger doses. Xanax can become tolerable if used too often and that requires increased dosages and dependency to get the same result. Clint’s “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” was a great movie. It’s one of my favorites. I mean, who doesn’t like Clint? I use the parable and title of his movie because it fits my scenario perfectly, but in reverse order. In my last chapter I didn’t mention that when I had the chance to stand after my 1st 4 hours of lying flat on my back, I had a moment to look down at my groin before the intense pain hit me and I was forced back onto my bed. I was almost shocked at what I had seen in that 5 seconds. My right groin was a greenish blue color and there was swelling around the crease in my thigh. Despite Millie’s extraordinary shave job, my groin was plain ugly. Now please understand that I hadn’t had any Xanax in almost 24 hours. My prescribed dose was a full pill twice a day when needed. For the past few weeks I had been taking a ½ dose once a day, as I mentioned earlier - usually a little before bedtime to quiet me down. The stress of having heart issues since early January has been taking a toll on me. Since then, I’ll take one if I take an anxiety attack. Lately I’ve had a few of those. It’s not a fact that I’m proud of. Suffering from anxiety is something I don’t believe anyone wants. More importantly, it was part of my strategy coming into this series of tests to have had a full dose an hour before we were to have our consultation with my doctor to both avoid an anxiety attack and to help me deal with bad news. Some of you may believe that my chat about Xanax sounds like a drug dealer ranting about the virtues of being a druggie. You may also believe that these drugs are for weak people. You may think what you want. But I’m a 50-year old man that knows that if used correctly, Xanax benefits my mind and my heart in these particular moments. 60 pills is a prescribed monthly supply for me. The reality is that 60 pills usually lasts me a year or more. Here it was later in the day and I was under a lot of pain and stress. My heart and mind was racing and the doctors were due any moment. I wanted a normal dose of Xanax. If there was any moment in my life I needed it more, I’m unsure when that would be. The hospital said they had none to give me. They offered me Ativan, but like Tylenol, I could chew a box full of them and get no benefit. I was on my own with no painkillers or any other drugs other than Atenolol to slow my heart rate, and my blood thinner Pradax – to prevent a possible stroke due to blood pooling around my heart. I did have the wonderful support of my wife, but I felt that I really needed my planned drug support. It wasn’t going to happen. A little time later the 2 doctors knocked on my door and were about to drop what I perceived to be a bomb. I dreaded this moment. I had been dreading it for more than a month. My 6-week plan of having a dependable drug help me through this impending storm was now crushed. Little did I know Laurie had them in her purse all day long. Perhaps her own state of mind kept her from realizing I was wanting and could benefit greatly from just a single little pill. Although I had rehearsed this moment of the doctor’s consultation in my head over and over again for what seemed to be forever, I still wasn’t ready to hear what the doctors had to say. With only my shattered nerves and wife to help me, I ask you, can anyone of us ever “be ready” for these moments? I don’t believe so. I looked at Laurie, she held my hand, and my principal doctor began to speak. “Your aortic valve is much worse than we originally thought. The TEE didn’t reveal a great amount of information about your regurgitation to us, but the catheterization certainly did when the dye was released in your heart. It showed that you essentially have a bicuspid valve that isn’t working at all. It has prolapsed.” That was the bad. Now the good! “Your heart has become enlarged to compensate for the valve failure, but it has coped rather well, likely because of your conditioning at the gym. You have no coronary heart disease or blockages. Your aortic root is fine as is your aorta. Your ejection ratios are low normal, but still fine. There is no permanent damage yet, but if you don’t have your aortic valve surgically replaced within 4-6 weeks, the damage will start to become permanent. Right now, I can tell you that with a new valve installed quickly, your heart and muscle wall will make a full recovery and go back to it’s normal size and output. Your heart arrhythmia will more than likely repair itself as well. If it doesn’t after your surgery and recovery, we can fix that down the road with a procedure through the femoral artery. I’m not particularly concerned with anything else right now other than that valve” Several hours ago I don’t think you had to be a genius to figure out why I heard the gasps in the Cath lab. I knew at that exact moment that the experts had found what they were looking for. And you may be surprised to learn that I was expecting most everything the good doctor had just told me. What he may have not been prepared for was the 20 questions I had written down weeks ago in my looking for answers to my questions that up to now I couldn’t find on the net or from any of my local doctors. With my new Halifax doctor now through his spiel, I handed him my 20 questions on 2 sheets of paper. He looked them over and stared at me straight in the face. “These questions are surgically based and I’m not a surgeon. However, I would be pleased to set up a meeting with a surgeon for you, if you like”. I replied with a simple “Yes please”. “Or I can have surgeon Doctor Jeremy Wood drop by to visit you in an hour or so. What would you prefer”? Dr. Jeremy Wood is a legend in Eastern Canada. Through my internet research over the past 6 weeks I knew his name the instant I heard it. I thought to myself, “You mean I can meet and talk with this highly rated surgeon in less than 2 hours, while I’m in this hospital, and while I’m still in this bed”? For me, it was one of those moments I’ll never forget. You see, I had already discussed with my wife that I wasn’t going to have open-heart surgery. I was prepared to die rather than face having my chest cut open. I mentally can’t accept that anyone should have to cut me open. The only surgery I would even consider might be a mini-sternotomy. I had told that to Maureen earlier in the afternoon. She looked at Laurie at that time and asked her, “Is he serious”? She replied “Yes”. Hours later she gave me the gears. ”I don’t like your solution to your problem”, she said. “It really sucks”. I thought for a minute, why should you care?, but I didn’t say it. Instead I began to realize that for the past 2 days kind doctors and nurses had been working to help me. They were doing everything humanly possible to find out what was wrong with my heart and find options and the solutions to fixing me. This maturity in reasoning was starting to overcome my emotions. I didn’t believe that anyone outside of my immediate family really cared. But Maureen cared, and she didn’t even know me. You probably guessed by now that inside my soul I was crying. Had I found something that I didn’t know I was looking for? Was a simple trip to Halifax that I had made hundreds of times over the past 35 years really starting to make that big a difference in my life? Maybe the poor medical experience on PEI wasn’t going to ruin my outlook on life? “Doctor, if you can arrange for Dr. Wood to see me this evening, I would be very grateful”. “I’ll page him now and have him drop by to see you”, replied my Halifax doctor. Both my good doctors then left and Laurie and I shared a moment only a committed married couple can truly understand. She knew what I was thinking because she knows me better than I know myself. The world runs on hope. It’s a fuel we can’t get enough of. We as a society treasure our hopes in the future of our children. Hope is eternal and knows no boundaries. Some people believe hope is religion. For the first time since January 19th I felt hope, and I was wanting to bathe in it. With our heads recovering from everything that had just happened, I realized that it was already 5 o’clock. How in the world can this guy Dr. Wood show up after 6 in the evening for me? I’m a nobody. This guy had likely been here at the hospital since 6 this morning and already saved someone’s life in a surgical theatre today and done a dozen more spectacular things. Surely he had a family to get home to this late in the day? I was excited, nervous, and in disbelief that this could happen to me and happen tonight. How could I be that fortunate? An hour and a half went by. I was still laying flat on my back and daring not to move until Maureen said I was ready. Laurie was peeking through the curtains surrounding my bed when we both spotted this small tanned freckly middle-aged guy in a t-shirt and blue jeans walking around the nurse’s station. He looked like Joe Blow from next door. Could that be the infamous Dr. Wood? The man proceeded to my semi-private room and announced in a clear voice, “Is there a Mr. Ings in here looking for Jeremy Wood”? I couldn’t believe my good luck. For the past 6 weeks I had been almost beside myself with questions and heartache only to have someone who might have the answers right here beside me – right now. Did hope just arrive inside my hospital room? Laurie and I chorused together a resounding “Yes” and in walked Dr. Wood.

Darren Ingsposted a journal

4793 days ago

It was a Rocky Balboa moment. Yes, I came, conquered, and left the TEE test intact yesterday. Victorious in managing and even conquering my fear of medical ...Read more

It was a Rocky Balboa moment. Yes, I came, conquered, and left the TEE test intact yesterday. Victorious in managing and even conquering my fear of medical procedures for the 1st time. I firmly believed the Cath the next morning was going to be a pushover – that’s what many of you have left in your journals. Well, for me, DAY 2 was no pushover. Maybe I let my guard down, maybe I was over-confident, maybe the two tests are better left uncompared? The TEE was a breeze. Dang, I was pretty much wide awake for it and it didn’t bother me at all. So Wednesday March 2nd Laurie and I headed back to the QE2 at the crack of dawn. Finding the Heart Cath Lab, we were unconcerned about the Cath and already thinking ahead about our final consultation with my 2 doctors planned later that afternoon. My doctor and his assistant doctor were pleased with the results the day earlier and even suggested that I might buy some time with my valve. Heck, I was feeling that I might get 2 or 3 years out of my natural valve and enough time would pass so that I’d get the Edwards catheter valve and avoid this open-heart stuff altogether. Reality set in. My nurse for the morning was named Millie. Soon she told me to “strip down to your socks only please…” and I put on that paper thin Johnny shirt. My backwards change in mood and reflection of the past 6 weeks had suddenly reappeared. I wasn’t the same confident guy who walked in here just an hour ago. And Dam, I hate being cold. Johnny shirts? Give me a blanket please! Mille arrived with a blanket. But I did have the 2nd part of her request nipped in the bud, or so I thought…pardon the pun! You know - the shave thing. I had already been somewhat proactive on that detail…. I had done some handiwork with a new pair of clippers I had bought a couple weeks ago. I was even a bit proud of my carefully crafted time consuming handiwork. You just don’t do a fast job down there. There are a lot of important parts that require careful management around sharp objects. Smokes! With my wife looking on from the sidelines and to my dismay, Mille came along and didn’t just re-clip over what I had done, she took what I had already carefully clipped and reduced it to bare skin….in just under a minute! My remaining manhood became a small pile of fur that got thrown in a garbage can! She was decent enough to leave just one small strip in the middle that would remind you of a Penthouse Covergirl – with all the wrong parts exposed! So much for that! I think my wife was secretively amused at this point. But to her credit, she didn’t say anything. So here I am wearing next to nothing, shaved mostly bare, and well, waiting for something to happen. I wasn’t sure what was next, but I tried to stay positive. My only consolation at this point was that I did get her pretty good yesterday with the “Boo” gag. An hour later a guy comes along with a portable table and asks me to hop on board. Dam, I suddenly felt like I was Rocky after his 1st bout with Mr. T. I was mentally beaten up and I didn’t want to do this hero stuff again. Suddenly I again felt very alone and very scared. The Coward of Canada was back in full force. What a turn around in my ego and thoughts in just seconds. Laurie kissed me goodbye and I was wheeled to a special holding area with at least ½ a dozen other men on another floor of the hospital. I never said a word while lying there, but a nurse spied my “guillotine look” and gave me a Valium. Those nurses must have a 6th sense? Half an hour later it still had NO effect on me as I was quickly wheeled into an operation theatre and asked to squirm over onto the cath table. Dam it was cold in this room. Did someone forget to pay the heat bill? It was an “eyes wide open” deal for me. I was taking it all in. What did that device do? Why was that nurse wrapping that glass shield thing with a plastic cover? The 2 nurses preparing the theatre explained it all for me very graciously. I was left alone for a short time and the nurses reappeared with lead vests on. I didn’t like that a whole lot as I had read that there is a controversy over the Cath test and the amount of cancer causing radiation it produces. There was imaging equipment all around me and I also noticed a separate control room off to the side that operated this hi-tech looking machinery. There was a slight antiseptic smell in the air. Several people were in and around the control room. Yesterday my doctor’s assistant had asked me for permission to have a couple of resident interns witness the procedure. “Would you be ok with this please”? “No problem”, I replied. Why not? We all have to learn through experience and a young doctor is no different. I was guessing that the extra people in and around the theatre were the normal folks that run the equipment plus a couple young interns. My doctor’s assistant then showed up and explained he was now going to do the procedure. I didn’t know he himself was going to operate on me. He started manipulating my right groin area with his hands. That was hurting…what’s this probing finger thing all about? The next thing I see is this needle that had to be 6 inches long. He started inserting it into my groin area. It was like a bad bee stinging me for 2 minutes. This was 75% of what I could tolerate….but I hung on. Then came the insertion of the guide and blood sealing pieces into my femoral artery. Then a nurse showed up with a package that they opened by stripping down 2 sections that contained a wire that had to be 3 plus feet long. He started threading it up inside of me. That was more than I wanted to see, so I decided I’d better just look at the ceiling. Just as I thought that the lights went dim and while I wasn’t in much pain, I wasn’t liking this procedure either. It all started feeling like I was watching this take place through someone else’s eyes. I was coming slightly unglued and felling surreal. Hey, there was a monitor up in the ceiling I could just barely see out of the corner of my eye… Maybe I could watch TV and mentally remove myself from all this. Just as I thought this on the monitor came. The image was no re-run of Rin Tin Tin. There was the wire in the monitor. I realized it was the wire inside of my body, but I couldn’t make out where it was in my body. A few minutes later my doctor said, “you are going to feel a warm flash in a few seconds”. Because I was cold from the lack of clothing and the cold theatre, I was hoping for some warmer weather. WOOSHHHH, I felt like I was in the Caribbean for a second and then the monitor froze an image I’ll never forget. My whole artery and heart system ignited the big screen. Around me and in the control room I heard at least 3 people simultaneously exclaim “Whooooa”!! “Well, I don’t believe that’s the reaction I was looking for”, I thought to myself. I was hoping that someone might say something, but it was suddenly eerily quiet in both rooms. The earlier motions of busy bee people and voices had stopped. The lights came back on and my doctor removed the wire probe. I was told not to place any weight on my right leg while I was helped to squirm off the operating table and onto the wheeled table. Off we went back to the holding room. Total time I guessed at about 50 minutes. My doctor arrived moments later in the holding area where he removed the plastic guides and other stuff that was still inside my femoral artery and sealing the blood in my groin. He pressed down on the puncture site using just his fingers. After a minute I realized he was using serious pressure. This was becoming a bigger deal all the time. After maybe 20 minutes of applying constant pressure, he bandaged me with what seemed to be a simple Band-Aid. He bid me a quick good bye and said that he would see me later in the day. I was wheeled back to the nursing unit where the nurses began applying the same pressure as the doctor had been. That puncture site was getting more painful all the time. I was offered a couple of Tylenol. Big deal. I told them that if all I was getting was Tylenol, forget it. I could eat 6 of those things and it wouldn’t do a thing for me. A couple? Might as well throw them away. I was just being honest. The nurses kept checking my groin. Discreetly I might add. I got tired of them trying to look my whole groin area over while keeping the jewelry covered. What difference? This was not being fair to them. It was like trying to see a picture but with only one section at a time revealed instead of just seeing the whole picture. I told the nurses, “I’m not even slightly bashful. Please go ahead and pull back the covers and look at whatever you want if it helps you”. Maureen, my afternoon nurse obliged. Please keep in mind that you are not allowed to lift your head through this process as it puts a strain on the groin area to do so. I was relying on Maureen and my wife to tell me what was going on down there. Please don’t get the idea that I’m a flasher. That’s anything but the truth. And I don’t wish to be perceived as being graphic about my groin. It’s a reality that nobody writes about. In all my research on the net about this procedure, not once did I read about what happens “afterwards”. I believe that the truth of these procedures should prevail. Granting full access to the nurse was simply wanting an expert to see all of me – just in case something was going wrong with my groin area and the femoral artery. This wasn’t the time or place for vanity. After that, the nurses and my wife simply pulled back the covers to gain full view of the puncture site and everything else. It was no big deal to me and the job that had involved trying to be discrete and moving around various covers to keep my private areas spared was now only taking 15 seconds with the full no-holds barred visual access. The bruise was expanding and they actually drew a circle with a marker to outline the bruise to see how it was expanding. Maureen eventually showed up with a sand bag and placed it over my groin area in the hopes it would help reduce the bruising and swelling. She was an awesome nurse. Honest, hard working, caring, and not scared to pull back the covers! My wife and Maureen kept me informed as to how things were looking while I kept my head on the pillows. I don’t care what anyone says, four hours on your back on what seemed like a 50 cent mattress is grueling. Thankfully my good wife would help me move around my left leg (as I was allowed) to give me some variety in weight and pressure for my back. It was forbidden to move my right leg – even a little. Laurie was even more obliging with nice leg and lower back rubs to keep me from going numb. When Maureen showed up one of her many visits to check out my groin, she and my wife commented on how my whole groin area was now turning green with an expanding huge bruise. Again I was reminded that I wasn’t allowed to lift my own head to see for myself. She said the bruising, “was normal” and it could grow from the left puncture sight to my scrotum, down to my knee, and over to my far right thigh. Over the next 2 days she eventually was proven partially correct. It’s been 4 plus hours of lying on my bed. Despite my fresh puncture site and bruising, Maureen said I was just about ready to get up on my feet. After her gradually adjusting my head higher and higher over an hour’s period, my good wife and Maureen grabbed my hands and pulled all 6’2 of me up on my feet. As soon as I put weight on my right leg….I felt an enormous pain start in my right groin at the puncture site. Maureen said, “get back on that table quick”. Down I went back flat onto the bed like a sack of cement and she began pressing down with her fingers on the puncture site again. Holy Heyzus it hurt! She said she didn’t want me to move again for 2 more hours. I didn’t. Back came the sand bag and my wife’s wonderful hands messaging my tired back and leg areas. What a great woman I married. An hour later my doctor and his assistant (the doctor who did the cath procedure) showed up and asked how I was getting along. “Good”, I said. “Did you mind the Cath test”? “Not to bad”, was my reply. Well, I was mostly telling the truth. It wasn’t horrible folks, it just wasn’t easy. It certainly was no pushover deal like the TEE. After looking over my groin they announced that, “We have the results of the tests to discuss with you. Are you ready”? What I was about to hear was the good and the bad, and then there is the ugly as well. Thanks for reading! The next chapter “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly”, will be posted tomorrow. Darren

Darren Ingsposted a journal

4794 days ago

I tend not to write often in my journal, as I don\'t wish for people to tune out and off of my well-meaning messages with comments about the weather and what ...Read more

I tend not to write often in my journal, as I don\'t wish for people to tune out and off of my well-meaning messages with comments about the weather and what my cat ate for supper! (FYI - I don\'t even have a cat...I like dogs). So on a very serious note, this was perhaps one of the biggest weeks in my life. I’ll also explain that I write in long forum. The reason? I wish to help anyone going through what I am going through so my experience may help. We need to help each other. Adam set the bar on us helping each other. I intend on living up to that standard. Folks, I really have never had any medical tests before, let alone any invasive type procedure. It took me a month or more to mentally try and prepare myself for the 2 tests I had scheduled for me this week - the TEE and a Heart Catheterization. These tests were held at the QE2 Hospital in the city of Halifax, Nova Scotia (a 3½-hour drive from my home in Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island). My wife and I made the trip to Halifax in a snowstorm on Monday afternoon for Tuesday and Wednesday’s tests. We woke up early very early Tuesday morning and headed to the hospital as scheduled. I kept asking myself in the shuttle van we had taken from our hotel room, \"Just how mentally prepared am I? Can I do this?\" If you read my earlier journal’s, you’ll know that this whole deal has had me scared out of my mind. Dropped off the hospital doors, we quickly found the room on the 6th floor where we were supposed to be. My wife led the charge for the 1st part of the morning. That was planned. I was scared I’d tick off everyone with remarks I might make under the stress of my personal situation. We had made a pact that she’d do the talking. I never said hardly a word other than to reply to what was asked. But that isn’t me…I’m a loud mouth by nature. It was hard not to talk. Also, I must have looked like I was being lead to the guillotine. The doctors and nurses must have sensed it or seen it in my eyes because they were the ones that were so kind by touching me on the hand or shoulder and saying, \"it\'s going to be ok, we\'ll help you through this\". While that made me feel somewhat better, my stress level was still 9/10. After an hour with a young doctor going over my file it was time to have my EKG done and head to the TEE lab. We were lead to a large room where I was told to put on the Johnny shirt but could keep my pants and shoes on. Good, as of late, my feet are cold alot of the time, especially when I\'m very nervous. After blood pressure tests and some chitter chatter, a guy shows up with a wheel chair. The nurse told me, “It’s your time for a ride”! I gulped and thought, “Here we go…this is the beginning of a new journey in my life”. My 1st time in a wheel chair took me to another room on a different floor with lots of equipment. I met a young female specialist who wanted to do a fresh echocardiogram test before the TEE procedure. I tore off the Johnny shirt and it was of course - no big deal. 15 minutes later a hot looking 30-year-old doctor walks in and introduced herself as my TEE doctor. While her looks made the visual presentation better, I was stone cold sober and wondering how was I mentally going to swallow the 2-foot long probe sitting on another table alongside of where I was laying and sitting up on. She gave me a styrofoam cup about 1/3 full of some drink. She said, \"This stuff is terrible tasting, but I need you to gargle three times with it, so use only a 1/3 of the total volume in 3 separate gargles. OK, it was time to rise to the occasion. Can I do this? For 6 weeks I had been dreading this moment. I swallowed 1/3 and put my head back and did 3 - 30+ second deep gargles that I\'m sure hold a record in that room. She then sprayed a solution with an aerosol can right into the back of my throat on 2 separate occasions a minute or 2 apart. Quickly my tongue and throat went numb and I started to panic slightly as I didn\'t seem to have control of my breathing anymore in regards to nose or mouth. I kept telling myself to “keep it cool, you can do this”. The next thing I knew she put me on my side, put the guard in my mouth and told me to start to swallow. I closed my eyes and I felt the probe in the back of my throat. I swallowed hard 3 or 4 times and suddenly I didn\'t feel the probe anymore, but I did feel pressure in my stomach. I knew at that point I had swallowed it. Weird or What? Shatner, you should try this! NOT! Bang, 3 other doctors appeared in the room beside my doctor. They gathered around a large monitor placed right beside the table I was laying sideways on. While my doctor was simultaneously looking at the monitor, she continually moved the probe in and around my stomach. At one point she shoved what felt like an extra foot down my throat and it stunned me slightly as I felt an unusual pressure in my lower stomach area....kinda like when you drink a cold drink to fast, but truthfully, it was no big deal. I was expecting worse, much worse. For 10 or more minutes the 3 clamored around the monitor and talked in whispers. I couldn’t pick up what they were saying (I’m slightly hard of hearing from too many nights in a rock band) - but the monitor had lots of colors flashing and I knew that it was blood flow direction the device was recording. The 3 other doctors turned around and left the room and my doctor looked at me and said, \"I am going to remove the probe now, ok\"? I nodded my approval and she gently removed what had to be 4 or 5 feet of probe....not the 3 feet that she started with. She then quickly produced a contract and offer from Ringling Bros. Circus to begin a new career in sword swallowing. My manager is currently perusing the contract. I’m unsure what the salary range offer is at this point. It was over! Part of me was overjoyed. Round one to me! I was put on another table and taken back up to the floor where my wife was supposed to be anxiously waiting…I was planning on pretending I was dead, but my orderly who was pushing the table told me that wasn’t a good idea. Dam, he was no fun. So I closed my eyes and waited for the table to stop moving and to hear familiar voices. When my wife stroked my head I went BOO!! and then opened my eyes! Yeah, that got a reaction. We will be divorcing sometime very soon. In summary, I never got a sore throat, never felt sick, never felt any amount of pain even worth mentioning, and was jubilant in my new found swallowing skills. Remember boys; let’s keep this forum clean. The day ends with me and my wife heading back to our hotel thankful that the nurses and doctors we had dealt with all day were professional, kind, and sincere. What more could one ask for? Instead of the “Coward of Canada” as I have earlier called myself, today I felt a little more proud. Day 2 is a book. I’ll start writing it now, but don’t expect to see it until tomorrow or Sunday please.

HOME

ABOUT US

COMMUNITY

LEARNING CENTER

SURGEON FINDER

HEART HOSPITALS

VIDEOS

ADAM'S BLOG

NEWSLETTER

STORE

CONTACT

JOIN US

SIGN IN

Darren's Journal

Darren's Journal

Upcoming Surgeries

The Patient's Guide

Surgeon Finder