Theresa C.'s Posts

I had rheumatic fever when I was about 8 or 9 years old (it was the summer between second and third grade,) in the late 1960's. After several weeks on bedrest, I was put on antibiotics until I was 18, and that was about the end of it. About six years ago, I suddenly went from being very fit and running interval sprints three times a week to being out of breath climbing the stairs in my home. A cardiologist diagnosed me with mitral valve prolapse, and sent me to Vanderbilt Hospital for an evaluation of possible repair or replacement. Since I also have Ehlers-Danlos syndrome-- a genetic weakness of the body's connective tissue-- the surgeon didn't think the risks outweighed the benefits. I was put on a single, mild medication and rocked on just fine. Every six months, my cardiologist would check me out and say, "Everything looks the same, see you in six months." Until December of 2014. That time, it was "Your left ventricle has enlarged to an alarming extent, the mitral valve is failing, and you need intervention asap." Because of the current insurance situation and such, it was only last month that I got a catherization and a concise diagnosis. I'm in congestive heart failure, as my mitral valve is pretty much flapping in the breeze like an old screen door with a broken spring, and just for bonus fun and giggles-- my carotids are moderately stopped up and I have a feeder artery on the front of my heart that needs to be bypassed. Oh, and my triglycerides are 433. I'm 54, I don't smoke, I don't drink, I watch the quality and quantity of what I eat, I'm of normal weight, and before this blew up in my face, I regularly exercised. Even the receptionists are exclaiming that I'm too young for all of this. The consensus is, judging from my familial history on both sides, is that I made a really lousy choice of ancestors as far as cardiac health is concerned. I have an appointment with my cardiac surgeon on April 29th. Frankly, I'm anxious to get this show on the road as soon as surgery can be arranged. Not that I'm looking forward to having an 'interesting' alteration to my decolletage, along with all the risks, pain and recuperation involved. It's more that I've always rather deal with even serious unpleasantness than wait in uncertainty. This open-heart surgery has gotta be done, it's not going to be fun, so let's just DO IT already, y'know? At this point, I'm not sure if the valve can be repaired or if I'll go with a tissue valve or a mechanical one if it can't. I suspect that's part of what the surgeon consult this month will cover. I just hope I can keep working enough to remain able to pay for my nosebleed high insurance premium every month through this... which honestly, is more a worry for me than the whole "someone's going to stop my heart and slice it up" side of the scenario. I've not been entirely anxious and gritting my molars as I contemplate this situation, though. I'm a fan of the steampunk genre, and so somehow, a clicking mechanical valve seems to fit right into that aesthetic. I joked to one of my male friends that if I do get a mechanical valve, I'll go to the next gathering with a clockwork winding key affixed near my scar. He grinned and declared he'd wear a top hat with a card declaring himself "Official Winder," stuck in the band.