Category: Mitral Valve

19 Months Post Open-Heart Surgery. Still Waiting On The Return of My Hair.

There were a few months of soaring hope while I took Viviscal – hoping that my hair would return to its pre-surgery state! Those months were in the spring and summer of 2025; my hair thickened, and I enjoyed fixing it for work and outings, grateful for its “return.” In the fall, I started to notice the thinning again. Life was stressful in the fall with Patrick’s abscesses and hospital visits (7!), so I’m aware that I’m experiencing a double-whammy. My body is still in recovery; believe me, this has been a topic of research of late. I am 19 months post-open heart surgery, and I am still in recovery – we have also been close to having our own suite in the emergency room at St. Francis South. So, I have to remind myself that not only did my body go through a traumatic experience less than 2 years ago, but my stress levels have not been good either for months on end, though I have kept an eye on my blood pressure and my INR. Despite all of this, my spirit says, “Okay, let’s be normal,” while my body says, “Nah, not yet.” My body is still in flight-or-fight mode from all that the last two years have thrown at us.

I am also a 53-year-old woman who had a hysterectomy in 2018. My ovaries stayed in … and I am fairly positive they’re going kaput. It’s menopause time. The weight I lost after surgery is all back with a vengeance – you know, the meno-belly. I’m more conscientious now of my diet than I have ever been in my life! I drink protein drinks for breakfast, eat Greek yogurt, and nutritionist-approved granola for lunch. I snack on dark chocolate. I only drink water and sparkling water. We eat turkey, chicken, and pork in this house. I never eat fast food or junk food, except for tortilla chips and salsa. I do a blood check for my INR every week and report results to my cardiologist’s office. I mean, I’ve never eaten this well – and I am a plump little chicken. Grrrr. One of my goals has always been to weigh less than Patrick, and currently, that’s not the case. Of course, he’s been sick since September, off and on and off and on, so there’s that, too. Probably, I’ve eaten a bit more of the items I mentioned because of stress over his health – the uncertainty of the last few months has been emotional and exhausting. But there’s also the hot flashes – and they come at night! Holy moly. I need it cold in the bedroom. Midway through the night, I’m sweating and throwing off covers. Last night, I got about 4 hours of sleep. I was too hot to sleep. So … 19 months post-surgery, husband has been terribly sick, and menopause/peri-menopause (how can you tell with no uterus) … triple whammy! But, you know what? I am alive.

How does it feel to be 19 months post-open-heart surgery? Glad you asked. For the most part, I am feeling great. I hear the ticking of my mechanical valve often, and I remember what I’ve been through. As soon as I start to feel “normal,” I’ll hear that, and I find myself reliving portions of the experience. Not in horror, but in gratitude for the space I’m in now as compared to where I was pre-surgery and immediately following – those first 12 weeks after surgery were intense. I’m not bothered by the ticking, though I see some folks in the support groups I’m in on Facebook complaining about the incessant ticking. Heck, it means we are alive! Recently, the living room was silent, and I could hear my ticking, so I recorded it. Wild to have a recording! I’m grateful for it. There are some nights when I have to adjust because, in certain positions, the ticking is loud and keeps me awake. Not a bother. I just move my head or flip onto my side … which I can do now!

Mostly, I’m comfortable on my side in bed. It took months to be able to put my left arm up and under my pillow so I could sleep on my left side. I still feel “pain” when I’m on my left, and if I don’t keep my right arm up on my body, if I let it fall down in front of me, then I’m squeezing my chest together, and that doesn’t feel good. I wouldn’t call it “pain” – hence the quotes. It is a bothersome feeling, an ache. Whatever it is, it is unpleasant, so I have to find just the right position so that I can drift off comfortably. Now, on my right side, I could put my right arm under my pillow for months and sleep on my right, but lately it hurts when I do, similar to how the left arm used to. I don’t know what that’s about, and I’m not headed to the chiropractor at this time. I just, a lot of the time, choose to lie on my back, which is something I never used to do. I have been a belly sleeper for most of my life, but not anymore. Probably that’s psychological. I just don’t do it. Lying on my back is when I hear the ticking, so I have to get my head in just the right position so I do not hear it quite as loudly, though most nights I have a YouTube ocean storm for sleeping playing on my phone next to the bed. Who would have thought that 19 months later I would still have sleeping issues?!? It’s all good though … I am alive.

Occasionally, I have chest pain. Sometimes on the left. Sometimes on the right. Sometimes it is sharp. Sometimes it is dull. It’s always near the surface, near my skin. Right now, at this moment, I feel a tightness across my entire chest. If you’re ever around me, you might see me put my hand on my chest in whatever area I’m feeling something funky. It’s part of me now – these aches and pin-pricks. There’s metal in my body – and it does what it does, and my body reacts to it. In my heart, there’s a mechanical valve, and there are wires that held my ribcage together as it melded back together over lengthy months. And when I feel these things, I touch my chest where I feel the pain/ache/tightness, and it tends to alleviate. It’s all good. I don’t set off metal detectors, and I’m alive.

My hair … yeah, I want it back. But now, I wonder about the medication regimen I was on in the last five years – the oral Rogaine – and, though I’m not curious enough yet to have researched it, I wonder if it contributed to my mitral valve’s severe regurgitation and put me into congestive heart failure. Maybe one of these days I will look into that, but I’m not there yet. The medication combo I was on, which included the oral Rogaine, is something I cannot take again due to my current health. I’m just missing my hair and wearing a lot of hats. I mean, a lot of hats. I have so many hats, and here’s crazy information: two more will arrive in today’s mail! You know how some people collect stamps or coins? Well, for me, it’s cowboy boots and hats. Actually, both Patrick and I collect these things, but for me, the hats are more in effort to cover up my hair loss. I really like some of them now, and I’m getting quite comfortable wearing them. Heck, last fall, one of my students drew me, my hats, and my outfits every day and gave them to me as a gift at the end of the semester. That was pretty cool. I like being ‘that’ professor who is ‘unafraid’ to be herself. Secretly, though, I ask myself whether I am really unafraid to be myself. If I were fully unafraid, I wouldn’t have this great need to wear hats every time I leave the house. I would just let my lack of hair be what it is – and who cares what a single solitary person out there in the big wide world thinks! Because you know why? Less than 2 years ago, I had major open-heart surgery, and I am alive!

My intention here is to be a voice for others struggling post-major surgery with body changes and life continuing to roll at you like a barrelling train on icy tracks. Recently, I read that it can take 24 full months before the body is “healed” from the type of surgery I underwent. So, I’ll tell my story, talk about my experiences, and hope to be a voice of hope and also reality for those facing similar types of surgeries – and for folks who just need a reminder to be grateful for life. We all face different traumas/experiences – and what I’ve learned is that the key is gratitude. I’m grateful for the Chief of Cardiology as my surgeon. I’m grateful for my husband being the best caregiver I could ever ask for. I’m grateful for my work and for their love and care during my healing. I’m grateful for friends and family. I am grateful for sobriety through all of this. I am grateful to God for allowing me to remain here on this earth for a little longer. In that operating room, I felt perfect peace when I prayed, “Jesus, I either wake up with you or with work to do.” Well, I woke up in the ICU, so I have work to do.

And how I do that is, I wake up each day and thank God for the day. I thank Him for my marriage, my husband, my children, my friends, my work, and I ask Him to let me be of use to Him each day. Then, I go out the door and step into the day. Grateful. Each step I take is a gift. And in lieu of this … (see, I learn constantly – and I just caught the lesson here in my own words) the hair on my head is a gift. Whether it is thin or it is thick, I am alive, and I have work to do – wearing a hat or not wearing a hat! Heck yeah! BE ME! Be real. Be authentic. Be grateful! Thank you, Lord! So … let’s do this.

A Year, A Month, and 25 Days Post Surgery. Some Thoughts.

When I wake up in the mornings, I curl my shoulders together, roll to my right side, and push myself up to sitting with my right arm. This is an effort to avoid feeling a tug in my chest. It’s not necessarily a painful tug, but it’s there nonetheless. It is also there when I reach too far, when I sneeze, and when I laugh hard. Describing the feeling has me stumped. It’s a tug, and sometimes I have sore spots in my chest. When I apply pressure to them, the soreness alleviates. From what I read online and in heart surgery support groups, these are normal occurrences even though I am a year, a month, and 25 days post-surgery.

That in itself is wild! A year, a month, and 25 days since my chest was cut open, my rib cage cracked open, and my heart repaired – my severely leaking mitral valve replaced with an On-X mechanical valve. My dad recently watched on YouTube a surgery like I underwent; I cannot bring myself to watch one of those videos yet. But I tell you what, I am grateful. Without that surgery, I would not be alive in this physical form. I do not mind the tugs and the soreness. They remind me that this world might have moved on without me in it much sooner than I was ready for it to, and I’m still here.

When I feel the tug or the soreness, I thank God, and I ask to be of use to Him as I live out the remainder of this addition to my life that He orchestrated. I know that is what it is. In retrospect, I see the events that led to the discovery of my heart failure, and I believe with all that I am that I am still here in this physical form because of Him. Each day is to be lived with purpose, and for that, I am grateful. My word is grateful. Despite the blood thinner, despite the INR testing every week and communicating with nurses every week, despite the lack of spinach on my sandwiches, despite avoiding green onions, which I love, despite the easy bruising, despite the fact that I’m supposed to be eating low sodium (and I’m trying – sort of), despite all of that, which in the big picture is nothing, I am grateful! <3. Grateful to still have time to live as God desires me to, which is laid out in MIcah 6:8.

“He has shown you, O mortal, what is good.
    And what does the Lord require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
    and to walk humbly[a] with your God.”

11 Months Post-Open-Heart Surgery

Today, I am 11 months post-open-heart surgery to replace my Mitral Valve with a mechanical valve, and I am grateful. That has been my word through this entire journey – Grateful. I claim it for the rest of my time here this side of Heaven. I am grateful for the opportunity to still love on folks, share my story, and tell about God’s goodness to me and the peace I knew in the operating room just before surgery. That moment was a “moment” for me. One I’ll never forget. In a room full of people – nurses, doctors, techs, and who knows who else, I was alone with Jesus and at complete peace. I looked outside the window (yes, there were windows just at street level where I could see traffic going by), and I knew all was well, whatever the outcome. No fear. Just peace. Inside, I said to Jesus, “Either I wake up with you, or I wake up with work to do.” And, I woke up, still here, with work to do. I am grateful for the continued opportunity to be a positive light – at least that is what I strive to be!

My scar is healing nicely. Hair is still thin, and I’m okay with it. I still get sore in my chest, but the doctor said that’s normal. It’s “only been” 11 months. I need to walk more than I do – and I will. I have every intention to -our days are full – that’s my excuse. I said to my doctor, “Isn’t it enough that I rarely sit down? I’m always up and moving. My step-counter on my watch and my phone frequently hit my step goals.” He said, “No, that doesn’t count.” You apparently need 30 minutes of cardiac activity … like walking. Insert a big, giant smile here. I know. I know. And I will. Right now, I’m focused on preparing my summer classes – again, I’m teaching three. This summer, I’m taking a course, too. It will be busy, and that’s just how I like it. Busy. Busy. Busy.

I check my blood pressure frequently and my INR weekly. Those are routine now for me, and I’m good with it. I’m grateful to be here, grateful for each day, grateful for each moment. This morning, I have a friend coming over to chat for a while, and I’m happy. Life is full, and God is good. Each day, my prayer is full of gratitude and a request … that I may be of use to HIM today.

Here’s to 11 months!

20 Weeks Post Open Heart Surgery! Update.

Just about TWENTY weeks post surgery! That’s amazing, and I am grateful for the time!

My INR was 3.4 on Monday, which is therapeutic, and we are pleased. Grateful. Got to keep this ticker ticking!

Last week, I had my post surgery echocardiogram , and my cardiologist said everything looks great! The new Mitral Valve is working perfectly. Good news!

Patrick and I took a trip (10/31 – 11/3) to Nashville to see Luke Combs in concert on 11/1. Halfway through the concert, I took my blood pressure on my watch. 127/74. Excellent! We had the best weekend – exploring Nashville together. We will definitely go back! What an exciting place!

Something I haven’t talked about too much is my hair loss. For about a month, I’ve been losing nearly fistfuls a day. All of that work to get my hair healthy has been stripped either by my body’s reaction to major surgery, to the blood thinner, or because of both. In the Facebook support group I’m in for Mechanical Valve folks, I am assured by many that this is my body’s normal reaction to what it’s been through and that my hair will come back. I mean, it is what it is. I’m alive, and I have cute hats. Better to talk about the hair loss than hide in “shame” … and shame of what? Vanity stripped? I’m good. I’m healthy, and God still has me here fur a purpose. So … I’m going to be about that purpose instead of allowing any “Woe is me” to enter in and drag me down. Nope. There’s work to do.

Great news … I am sleeping on my side!

This is huge news! Regular pillow. More “normal” sleep posture! Y’all, this is major for me. ❤️. I can snuggle with my Patrick again! There’s a bit of a twinge in my chest in certain positions, but I can lay on my side, either side, comfortably! Oh, how I have missed doing this! I’m so grateful! It’s simple things like side sleeping … ahhhhh. Yes, that’s good stuff. Grateful that I became accustomed to sleeping on my back, but over the moon that I can get back to a more normal sleep position for me!

And … I have a cold. 🤧 even in that, I am grateful that I have not been sick prior to this point. Coughing, sneezing, blowing my nose would have all been excruciating up until a few weeks back. So, I’m going to not get upset at this, just grateful it didn’t happen before now. Rest. Rest. Rest. That’s the plan. Must have picked up a country bug in Nashville. 🤧😁🫣

It’s Wednesday. Friday marks 20 weeks. But since I’m laid up in bed resting this cold away, it was on my mind to write this now. 19 3/4 is just as good!

Happy to be here!

15 Weeks Post-Surgery, and I Know to Step Off the Treadmill if the Power Goes Out

It is now 15 weeks since surgery, and I’m three weeks into Cardiac Rehab. Initially, I was doing 10 minutes on the treadmill at 2.4 mph. After the treadmill, I moved to the step bike, which looked like a Stairmaster and a stationary bike had a baby.  At first, I also did 10 minutes, keeping at 54 watts. I don’t understand how watts are measured or what they are, but I was told to stay around 54, so that’s what I did. The third device I use is the arm bike – literally, this is a bike for your arms. You sit in a chair and cycle your arms. In the beginning, this was for 4 minutes. 2 minutes forward and 2 minutes backward. Through all these exercises, I wear a heart monitor, which I am responsible for putting on when I get there. They take my blood pressure before I begin, in the middle of the step bike, and the final time is after sitting and resting post-exercise. I go three times a week, smack dab in the middle of the afternoon. Now, I’m up to 18 minutes on the treadmill at 2.5 mph, and they have me up to 18 minutes on the step bike, keeping at 62 watts. The arm bike sits at 7 minutes. 3 ½ forward. 3 ½ backward. 

Apparently, on Friday of the second week, my heart misbehaved – meaning I have PVCs, which are premature beats in the lower chamber of the heart. These were also evident pre-surgery, and the hope was that the Mitral Valve Replacement surgery would perhaps alleviate them, but … there they were on the nurses’ screen. They had me slow down on the treadmill, and on the arm bike, I had to stop a time or two.  The nurses sent a report to my cardiologist, whose office informed me the following Monday that we needed to adjust my medication.  Long story short, we discovered that I had not been taking one of my medications correctly since surgery – and taking it correctly should lessen the premature beats.  I’m taking the medication the right way now, so the hope is that the PVCs will slow down. I felt positive until this past Friday when, at the beginning of the treadmill session, the nurses stopped me three times to adjust the leads on my chest. The third time, I had to stop and sit in a chair for a few minutes. They watched the monitor, and my heart behaved while sitting. They checked my blood pressure, adjusted leads, and got me back on the treadmill. As far as I know, things went smoothly from that point forward, though I won’t be surprised if I hear from my doctor’s office tomorrow.  

I talked with a nurse friend, and she said the PVCs, if they remain a problem, could one day end up being treated with a pacemaker. She said if that came to pass, I’d outlive everyone.  Yes, well, I don’t relish the idea of another chest surgery. She assured me it’s not an invasive procedure, but right now, only 15 weeks out from being cut wide open, I’m feeling like heck nah. Understandable, I’m sure.  Though, we will do what we must.

Another thing to tell is that my hair is falling out in droves. Each time I’ve washed my hair over the last two weeks, my bathroom counter gets covered with hair, as does my floor, and my brush is full. This is disheartening. Pre-surgery, my hair was thickening longer than ever, and I was on a medication routine that helped grow that hair. Since surgery, I’ve had to stop those medications. So now I have a triple whammy coming at me and my hair situation: I had major surgery, I stopped the medications, and I’m on blood thinners. Each of those causes hair loss … and it’s happening.  This week, I reached out to my cardiologist and my dermatologist. There’s a supplement the dermatologist wants me to try, and my cardiologist approved it. It’s called Viviscal. I’d be interested to know if anyone has had experience with the product(s) … in a few weeks, I’ll share my experience. I will also be on a topical Minoxidil. Previously, I was taking an oral Minoxidil. Part of me wonders if vanity is part of what took my heart valve down so quickly … the medications I took for hair growth do potentially affect heart function.  

Occasionally, I wonder what caused my heart valve to fail so quickly. In the Fall of 2022, I saw the cardiologist, and he said my Mitral Valve pro-lapse was something to keep an eye on; he had an echocardiogram completed, and for the most part, he was not highly concerned about me. By February 2024, something went wrong. Was it the years of living in high stress? Drinking alcohol? Addiction to caffeine and soda? Medications? Lack of exercise? I don’t know if it was any of those, but they certainly worked in concert. All of those things were unhealthy for me – and it’s true too that Momma had valve issues and heart failure, too. It could be that it was simply genetic, and I exacerbated it through anxiety and alcoholism – trying to fix myself but completely and utterly failing – and apparently, I’m trying to blame myself for my valve not working. Most likely, it just was what it was.  Maybe so. Maybe not. I can’t say. The doctors won’t either. We simply know that the Mitral Valve was not working, and two separate doctors told Patrick that they were “astounded” and “astonished” that I was walking around. Wild. Crazy. Holy cow. Thank you, Father God, for the nurse in February 2024 who heard my heart beat wonky. 

The conviction that each day I live is a gift from God is still with me. In the face of the PVCs, I feel like, okay, what are the next steps here? Will I meet new people to show God’s love to? What will these experiences enable me to do for Him? I have to believe these events are allowed because I can be of use to God through them and because of them. So be it. I keep stepping forward. 

This morning, after waking up, I tried laying on my side and curling up next to Patrick. I put my head on his chest, and it felt good to be in that position, but it didn’t last long before my chest felt funky. I don’t know how else to describe it; it doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t feel right. So I sat up and got up. For most of the day, I have felt like I pulled something under my right collarbone. If I turn my head to the left, it pulls. This is new, and I’m not a fan. Not sure what is going on, but it’s not the left side, so that’s something.  I’m feeling it even now while I write this, and I guess I’ll write another note on MyChart tomorrow.  I think the nurses see my messages and say, “Here she goes again!”  I ask so many questions! Fine with it … I’m doing what I tell my students to do all the time … Advocate for yourself. No one else will.  That is true in Academics for certain. In my world, though, it isn’t always the case. My Patrick will advocate for me … and when I need him to, I will step out of the way and get behind him. Heck yeah. In this, though, on MyChart, the doctors and nurses make themselves available to us … oh, I ask questions! 

Oh! I almost forgot … the time came to go to the dentist to get the crown my dentist told me I needed over a year ago. Coordinating that with the cardiologist proved to be a bit of a challenge, but we got it done, and at the dentist, I swallowed huge antibiotic horse pills before work was done in my mouth. The temporary crown went in … it wasn’t done correctly … I had excruciating pain overnight and had to return to the dentist the next day to have it fixed. Did you know that if a temporary or permanent crown sits too high, you’ll experience shooting pain down through your ‘tooth’ and into the gums? So crazy, and it’s true. The dentist shaved the temporary crown down to where my regular tooth would have sat at its full height, and the pain stopped. Boom. That easy. I was blown away that a crown too high could cause that kind of pain. Now, I know. And trust me, when I go back in a couple of weeks for my permanent crown, I’ll be paying close attention to the size of that crown before I leave! 

The final item to note is my INR … mostly in the last three weeks, it has been fine, though this past week, it dropped a bit. 2.2.  Tomorrow I get tested again – and I’m praying it will be above 2.5, but Patrick and I had Chuy’s this evening, and I did have the queso, which is made with green chilies … and those are chock full of Vitamin K.  Grrrrrr. We shall see. It was good, so it was worth it. That’s what I say tonight. We shall see about that at this time tomorrow. Patrick and I have come to terms with the fact that my INR will go up and down, which is part of life now. We don’t overreact anymore but also understand the seriousness of the INR staying within range.  One of these days, I will have my own INR machine and be doing the checks myself, but for now, I still have home health coming once a week. My nurse has become a friend, and that’s nice.  Once she isn’t coming to our home anymore, we will stay in touch. That’s good stuff. 

Writing this, I’m tired, and I hear it in the text’s tone. Know that I’m good. There are ups and downs, but it’s always a forward march. I have work to do, and I’m here for the challenge. 

God is good, and I am grateful.  Tired. But grateful. 

Also, I finally heard Stacey’s story … and it was funny. If the power goes out, and I’m on a treadmill, the lesson is to step off of it. Quick. BEFORE the power comes back on! Apparently those things come back on at full speed …

12 Weeks Post Op! Wowza!

Today marks 12 weeks since my Mitral Valve was replaced in open-heart surgery. Three months. Who knew recovery would still be ongoing at 12 weeks? Not me. Certainly, my doctors did, and all of the nurses and anyone who has had open-heart surgery knew. I know now, and I am thrilled to be at this milestone, though there is more to go. Forward march.

Cardiac Rehab starts on Tuesday, and I’m excited. They said to come prepared to “work out, ” so I HAD to go to the thrift store today to get some appropriate pants for treadmills and such. The Goodwill missed me; I know this because today’s music in the store was 80s rock, and that’s my era. Lost in thumbing through clothes mostly without thought, I sang along to the tunes that took me years back to “simpler” times. In the thrift store, I sing out loud without a care for who might hear or what they might think. In the past, I’ve had folks start singing with me. One time in particular, two ladies and I broke out in church in the middle of the Salvation Army singing praise songs. What a day! Today, though … was a great 80s rock mini-Dacia concert.

I did leave the Goodwill today with four pairs of appropriate treadmill pants. I’m not a “workout” girl so that part of my wardrobe was sadly lacking. I’m not wearing shorts there. Now, I have two pairs of stretch pants that are super fun colors, a pair of really nice gray stretch pants that I think are supposed to be dress pants for under long sweaters and such, but they’re for this now, and one pair of like wind-pants by Adidas. Those are cool … literally. The bonus is I also found a brand new pair of Keds tennis shoes that are multi-color and super cute. Win.

Is it weird that this is my focus before Cardiac Rehab? Appropriate clothes? It’s fine.

I’m still sleeping on my back, though lower in the bed. Last night, I lay flat most of the night, though still on my neck pillow on my actual pillow. I tried removing the neck pillow after waking up at 5:30, but laying back on just my pillow did not feel good – awkward. Perhaps that is because I may be used to sleeping with the neck pillow now – a new habit formed. I’m not sure. I did try to roll on my side this morning, too, and I don’t know if it’s in my head or if it’s actually feeling not quite right yet, but I didn’t stay like that and rolled back onto my back. It feels spooky to lay on my side because it goes through my mind that I might mess up the healing process of my sternum – though it is supposed to be “fully” healed by now. 12 weeks is the marker. I feel like I need someone to tell me it’s okay so I can relax … but we can’t fully know without an x-ray. Will they do one at Cardiac Rehab? I wonder. I think it would make sense to do one.

My INR was still low this week. 2.1. Up from the week before at 1.8. We need to be at 2.5. This is going to be the dance of my life for the rest of my days – and it’s okay. I’m watching what I eat, and I’m avoiding Vitamin K like the plague, which I kind of did before surgery anyway … all those leafy greens. Ew. LOL. Since recovery began, I’ve been given several different lists of foods I can and cannot eat. Each has been slightly different – enough so that I’m disregarding them all except the most recent one from my cardiologist’s office. It’s long and distinguishes between which foods are high in Vitamin K, which are medium, and which are low. We like those low and medium ones, though the medium ones are to be eaten sparingly. I may be a broken record on some of this information – I’m not sorry because this is my world now. And … anyone who comes across my post-surgery posts and will be on Warfarin needs to read my experience so that they can know what to expect. Vitamin K bad. INR crazy. Blood draws, blood draws, blood draws. Lovenox when things go awry. That means shots in the belly twice a day. Fortunately, we haven’t had to do those in over a month.

Things are good … though I have had a couple of slight ‘dizzy’ spells when lying down – nothing at all like I used to experience nightly. I breathe through the slight ‘spells’ when they happen, which isn’t often. Figuring that my blood pressure is good and consistent at 118/62 (My normal now), the valve sounds good, and I’m feeling good, so I just keep moving forward, breathing right – deep breaths – in and out, enjoying the fact that I can get deep breaths. It’s been a while.

Joel 2:25 is on our bedroom door because this verse is a promise of God. It was to Joel, the prophet stating, “I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten.” Commentaries give varied interpretations of the meaning, but the common theme is that, as the verse says, God will restore what has been taken from you. Whether this is in direct correlation to an actual locust plague or in the restoration of Israel or both, it also gives hope to those who surrender their will to God and ask for only that they are useful to Him … and as believers do this, just as with Job (who lost everything because Satan wanted to see if he could get Job to turn his back on God and God allowed it – and Job did not sin by cursing God nor turning his back on God in the midst of losing everything – livelihood, children, naggy wife … Job remained faithful and surrendered), God gives back more than we can imagine – and in ways we cannot fathom. Joel 2:25 is my life now … God has given me more than I could have imagined or asked for – despite me. Despite my past, despite alcoholism, despite failure and victimhood. God has given me a husband who truly loves Father God and loves me – in that order – in Patrick. He has given us a beautiful, peace-filled home in which to welcome family and friends and in which to love everyone who crosses the threshold. He has gifted me with a career that I love and am perfectly-because-of-Him suited for. He continues to restore and deepen my relationships with my children. He has placed the right nurses and doctors in my path so that I could learn to fully rely on Him to provide and take care of my needs. He has given me the gift of more time here to be useful to Him. Each day is a gift. Each day is a restoration, and I am grateful.

I feel like celebrating this 12-week mark.

Maybe I should buy some cowboy boots … Got my eye on these.

Week 10 Post-Op Update!

I’m a day late writing my weekly update, and that has everything to do with the fact that yesterday was a big day!

Patrick and I are members of Alcoholics Anonymous; I do not hide this fact because I am sober, and I am grateful for sobriety! Being a recovered alcoholic is a blessing from God.

In our home group, he and I are often looked at as Mom and Dad by many of the young people who come through the door and into the rooms of AA. This is also a blessing from God. Years ago I went to Bible college wanting to be a preacher’s wife – and that didn’t happen for me. Skip ahead years, and now I am married to an “Elder Statesman” in AA, and I find this life that God has given me working alongside Patrick in service to other members of AA and newcomers far exceeds any dreams I once had for a life of “ministry.” The tornado of a life I have had is now a tool that God uses – as I choose to be of service – to help others coming into AA. Right at my husband’s side. Patrick begins each day by asking God to use us as He sees fit. Amen to that.

Yesterday, one of our “sons” (who has been sober for 13 months and has been attending meetings/getting his sheet signed all of that time) had a sentencing hearing. He was facing upwards of 30 years at the max to a minimum of 6 months. We had no idea what to expect going to the hearing – though, I will say that despite the unknown, the expectation to see him handcuffed and walked out of the courtroom for who knows how long was strong. It was a somber morning as a group of us gathered with our ‘boy’ and prepared to head into the courtroom, which we did in a mass of 13 people. Family and AA family. Long story short – the judge sentenced him to time served and 5 years probation. Time served because of AA – because of the work this young man has done in the last 13 months to be sober and to stay sober. He has a full-time steady job and has formed a strong support system, which I am pleased to say includes us. WHAT A MORNING! Tears of joy were shed! After the meeting, when all calmed down, the Lord gifted Patrick the opportunity to explain alcoholism to the young man’s mother in a way that she’d never understood before – and it opened her eyes to the plight of her son, who we have all taken under our wing. What a beautiful, amazing, miraculous morning!

So, my mind was occupied yesterday. It was not on the fact that it is week 10 post-surgery for me. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Getting your mind off of yourself is one of the main points of recovery … and for that, I am grateful!

I will say this regarding my week: Monday was very hot. I only slept 3 hours that night, got up not feeling great because of my lack of sleep, didn’t eat breakfast because I wasn’t hungry, and had only a small amount of water before heading to class. Class began with me lecturing on some tips and tricks students need to succeed in a Comp I class, and 15 or so minutes into class, an optical migraine started. My vision was blurred – and now, in that blurred state, I see an almond-shaped outline in sparkly white on one of my eyes. I didn’t have Tylenol with me, and I usually do to ward off one of those, turning into a full-on Migraine. So, without Tylenol, I decided to push through and kept teaching, though I sat on one of the front row desks. Another 20 minutes into the class period, the fire alarm went off, and we had to vacate the building. We, along with everyone on campus, gathered in a grassy area well away from the buildings … in the heat. I felt sick to my stomach and not right, so I sat on the curb and waited to be told we could head back inside. 10 minutes later, we were back in the classroom and picked up where we had left off, and the optical migraine had subsided. Perhaps overcome by the heat itself … who knows. I began the lecture again and a few minutes in, I became overwhelmingly dizzy to the point that I canceled the remainder of the class period and sent them on their way. One kid said, “Please don’t die.” I said, “I’ll try not to.” Right … I will. I will try not to. Another boy stayed with me for close to a half-hour until the next class came in. During that time, I drank water and ate some cereal I had in a baggy. Long story short on this one (Ha), I got better – and after arriving home, I told Patrick about it, told my doctor’s office, and told my home-health nurse when she arrived about a half hour after I was home. Suffice it to say breakfast and water are two things I cannot skip. Lesson noted.

My INR was 3.8 on Monday. A bit high, but all is well. We are above the 2.5 to 3.5 range, and I’d rather be there than below 2.5. If you know, you know. No thanks, Lovenox.

Cardiac Rehab begins on September 17th! Wahoo! I think … someone told me this week that the people at rehab are mean! I think he was joking, but I guess I’ll find out. Gotta do it.

I’m still not able to turn on my side while sleeping; I tried. Wasn’t comfortable, but I had to know. It’s getting harder to sleep on my back, and I’m not getting a full night’s sleep any night. There’s nothing on my mind … just wanting to roll over and sleep in my old-wonderful-done-it-my-whole-life sleeping position. Last night around 4:00 a.m., I manuevered myself down to laying full on my back and not reclined. I fell asleep for another 4 hours, so that’s pretty good. A total of about 7 hours for the night. Ask any of my bio kids, though … me in the middle of the night … not a pleasant person. LOL. I get unreasonable about needing to stay asleep and be asleep when it’s dark outside (trauma from raising 6 kids, I think, and the lack of sleep I received during all those years). Patrick, on the other hand, believes that’s time to meditate and spend talking to God … and you know what? I know my husband is right. God will provide the rest I need if I put my focus on Him. Another lesson noted.

Week 10 … I’m driving. I’m shopping. I’m cooking. I’m doing many things with a new sense of awareness and gratitude for the time I have. I just want to sleep … but writing this, I remember, that is perhaps time in the night to dedicate to prayer. This is something I intend to do this upcoming week. I Thessalonians 5:16-18 … 16 Rejoice always, 17 pray continually, 18 give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus. Amen. So be it.

I plan to complete a week 11 update and then a week 12 update. At that point, I’ll comment here and there about Cardiac Rehab – as I am sure it will be an experience to note … and I’ll FINALLY get to hear Stacey’s Cardiac Rehab story! Lawdy … better be a great one! LOL.

Update: 8 Weeks Post Open-Heart Surgery! Can I Get a Wahoo????

August 16, 2024 – Week 8

8 weeks ago, the possibility of reaching today felt like an eternity away! And yet, here we are! It is 8 weeks POST open-heart surgery! Can I get a Wahoo?????

Naively, I expected to be fully 100% by this time – kicking butt and fully back at life with “super” powers, having had my heart fixed! I’d say it’s more like 75% in reality. The incision is beautiful for an incision; there has been no oozing or opening of the closed-up flesh. The two smaller incisions, just below the end of the main incision, where the 3’ tubes were jammed, I mean, placed, inside me to drain fluid from my lungs, are healed up quite nicely. They’re small, horizontal ¾” purple lines with a slight ridge to them. The smaller incision in my neck where the “angel” was inserted (and I do not remember what it was for) is healed but left a mark – most people won’t notice it, but I see it. Certainly not mad about it; it’s one of my “battle scars.” So, as far as the outside markers of surgery are concerned, those are mending just as they are supposed to. All good things.

Now … the inside.

  • Still sleeping reclined and not flat. My neck pillow has been a blessed addition to my life that I may continue to use after fully healed. No neck pain after I sleep on that thing! Amazing!  Positive … I am sleeping in my bed and not the recliner. The day will come when I can lay flat, perhaps turn on my side, and then roll half on my belly with a leg hiked up. That sounds amazing … but that day is still a ways off. Why? Because at a certain point, lying back, there is still pain in my chest, which tells me I’m not fully fused. It is my understanding that it takes 12 weeks for the sternum to fully fuse back together after surgery, so we aren’t there, and I can feel it.  I give it a go now and then … and nope.
  • No slouching … if I do slouch, there’s a pinching beneath the lower part of my main incision. I’m sure that has something to do with wires left in me. So, for the most part, I sit straight up. I’m praying that I’ve not overdone anything and messed something up inside. My next doctor’s appointment is on the 23rd, so I’ll be asking then. But for now, it is straight-back sitting, no slouching, which we should all be doing anyway. Right?
  •  I can lift up to 20 lbs. This week, I moved the 8-quart Instant Pot around and lifted a 13.9 lb. turkey into the roasting pan and then into and out of the oven. Felt it. But did it. Taking my time. Doing nothing too quickly. Using my legs as much as I can – squatting/lifting. Holding my arms close to my chest while lifting/moving things around. A whole new way of doing things. I’m looking forward to Cardiac Rehab starting.
  • I still have home health visiting … because my INR fluctuates. I’m therapeutic, then I’m not. Then, I am. Then, I’m not. I joined several Warfarin support groups, so I know what I’m going through is “normal,” but that doesn’t help when I’ve been told that cardiac rehab won’t begin until home health releases me. This food and Warfarin thing is a beast. There are foods I shouldn’t eat, but then I’m told I can eat them, but only if I’m consistent. Like if I eat a salad on Tuesday this week, I have to eat a salad on Tuesday next week too – and then, forever, on Tuesdays. I’ve been told I can eat whatever I want, but just no leafy greens. I’ve been told I need to watch my sodium intake. I’ve been told I should see a nutritionist. I’ve been told. I’ve been told. I’ve been told. I just want to be therapeutic and get on with things. And regardless of all of the well-meaning advice I’m getting from support groups and folks I know; I’m listening to my team of doctors and my nurse friends first and foremost. One of them tried to feed me cake a few weeks ago, so … guess I’m the one who needs to calm down a bit every time I’m not therapeutic. My INR gets checked again this coming Monday. Praying for a good result. I’m ready to start Cardiac Rehab! Mostly because my friend Stacey is a nurse, and she says she has a funny story to tell me, but she won’t tell it to me until I’ve started Cardiac Rehab. It’s been weeks that I’ve been waiting to hear this story!
  • I tire easily, and I’m sure that has everything to do with the giant toll that open-heart surgery takes on the body. Until Cardiac Rehab starts, they want me up and moving around, and so I try to do that – and I avoid that recliner now! It was my safe space for 3 ½ weeks, and now … no thanks. I’m going to putter around my house, nap in my bed (I never took naps before this), and putter some more. Maybe spend time on the computer. The Fall semester starts Monday, and I am excited to get back into the flow of “normalcy.”
  • Been caffeine-free since the day before surgery. Prior to that, I was a diet sodaholic. It is shameful to admit there were some days that I drank upwards of 80 oz of that poison. I didn’t even like the taste sometimes … it was what my body craved. I always wondered if it contributed to my heart issues, but let me tell you what … when Patrick and I had our first visit to Dr. Tharakan’s office – my surgeon – the Chief of Cardiothoracic surgery – and there was Diet Pepsi and Diet Dr. Pepper in the waiting room for his patients, I did a German Shepherd side-head tilt. In the background of my head, Tim Allen made his “???” noise along with the “Home Improvement” theme song. And now I’m reading that caffeine helps thin blood … and I’m being told the only drinks I need to avoid really are alcohol (no problem anymore), cranberry juice, and energy drinks. Ladies and Gentlemen, to say that I’m confused on the matter is lightly addressing the concern. However, I think I’ll stick to mostly water from this point forward. I have a white soda or a fruit-flavored carbonated beverage from time to time, but those don’t even taste that good to me now. I want water. So crazy for this girl to say she wants water after years of soda addiction.
  • Some movements are still a touch pain-inducing, but the pain is short-lived. My chest often has a tightness in it, but it’s not painful. I’m definitely aware of it, but I’m not rushing to take Tylenol any longer. It’s hard to describe the tightness … it’s like, well, bones being pushed together, which makes sense because that is what is happening, except mine are wired together and fusing back into being one.
  • We are waiting on the test results from last week’s heart monitor. I don’t even know what to think about that yet, so how about, let’s not? It’s a concern for another day.
  • Today, I asked in the Mechanical Heart Valve support group … “Do we set off metal detectors?” To which several people quickly responded with a “No.” Brief, to the point. LOL. Hey, when I have a question, I’m going to ask it, no matter if it’s seemingly silly. I had visions of walking through metal detectors and them going wildly off because of my valve – and me trying to explain my whole story … although, if the officers want to listen, then I’m willing to share how God orchestrated every moment and how I am learning to trust and accept His peace which is beyond understanding. So … maybe metal detectors going off would be a-okay with me.

Week 8… wow! We made it to week 8, and we’re two-thirds of the way to “Fully Fused!”

My husband is with me constantly – and that is a joyful thing for me. He is my very best friend, and he is my caretaker, my lover, my protector, and the spiritual head of my home. We have had such quality time together over the last three months – the time both before and since surgery. He doesn’t let me far out of his sight (unless I’m with a nurse friend or in class or a meeting where there are folks that he knows love me), and I don’t want to be far out of his sight. I’m still not driving yet, so he is also my chauffeur and will get me to and from school for a few more weeks while I progress toward 100%. Really, I don’t have anything to complain about, even though there is still work to do toward healing and figuring out INR. The task for me, at 75%, is to do today what I can. Drink water. Eat well. Putter. Keep my mind busy, but also balance that with rest. Talk to friends and family. Share my story. Go to AA meetings. Live in the moment! Let tomorrow worry about itself. Give God the Glory for this entire experience! Remember that each day is a GIFT from God, and I am to use each day as an opportunity to be His love to others. That’s awesome!

Here’s to 75%! Woot! Woot!  

My Heart Literally in His Hands

SEVEN weeks post-open-heart surgery, I’m here to tell you that recovery is not a quick process once you have had your chest sliced, your sternum cracked open, and your heart held in someone’s very capable hands as your existing Mitral Valve is replaced with a Mechanical Valve-my heart physically in the surgeon’s hands. But, recovery DOES HAPPEN! It’s still happening for me and will continue to for weeks to months. It’s all good. Happy to be on the other side. Happy to still be here. Happy to have recovery to do. Happy to know, with assurance, that God is not finished with my story here just yet.

This week, there have been some positives to share! 🤗

A couple of days ago, for the first time since before surgery, I was able to hug my husband and feel his arms fully around me. Chest tenderly on chest … it was an amazing hug. There may have been tears. What a hug! 🥰

My INR IS 2.5! Some of you won’t have a clue why that is exciting to me, but anyone who has taken or is taking Warfarin will understand. We have had seven weeks of changing dosages to get me, what they call, therapeutic – within acceptable range. What a journey – full of disappointments and excitements, of Lovenox shots and a severely bruised belly, of getting to know my home health nurse so well that now we hug at the end of appointments.

I walked up a flight of stairs on Thursday! And I did not get short of breath! When I got into the doctor’s office, my blood pressure was slightly elevated from that morning, but was still in normal range! Wahoo!

Thursday, we (because Patrick walks every step of this with me) saw the electrophysiologist. The appointment with that office was scheduled before my surgery was scheduled, but my surgeon’s office said to keep the appointment. The EP did an EKG, listened to my heart specifically for PVCS … irregular heartbeats in the lower chambers of the heart. Prior to surgery I had a concerning amount of those. Thursday, he said he saw a few on the EKG, but did not hear them when he listened to me. So, I’m wearing a heart monitor now until this afternoon. Supposed to note anything unusual in a little notebook … that’s funny to me since everything since surgery is unusual. 😅 Feeling the heart monitor on the skin not far from my incision is unusual, but not what he’s looking for.

Headed home from the EP.

I’m still not sleeping flat, but reclined on pillows. That’ll be a few more weeks more than likely. It’s fine. I’m fine. 🫣 At least we are sleeping in our bed! That’s a giant wahoo! We were both in the living room for weeks! Patrick will only sleep where I sleep. I love him. ❤️🥰 My heart mentally and emotionally is in his hands.

I realized this week that prior to surgery, I had been experiencing a lot of hot flashes during the night … those are not happening now. It has me wondering if those, like the swelling in my body and the shortness of breath I was experiencing for months which increasingly was getting worse, was due to my Mitral Valve basically not doing much beyond sloshing blood back and forth in my heart while it, properly working, should have been pushing the blood into my body in a rhythmic nature. Not mine. Mine was malfunctioning – severely. So much so that one of the surgeons at the hospital told Patrick he was astounded that I was able to even walk around prior to surgery. Another one told Patrick that he was astonished that I could sleep. Those are the verbs they used. I was sick, y’all. Bad sick.

Another major thing to note this week is that the dizzy spells/flushing episodes I’d been experiencing every time I lay down (prior to surgery) are gone. To say that I am overjoyed about that does not fully encompass my feeling on the matter! I am grateful. Grateful. Grateful. Grateful.

Now, a couple of times, I have had what felt like one of those, but who knows. I’ll pay attention, but for now, the nightly thinking “This might be it,” meaning I’m gonna die, every time I had one of those spells is not a thing! I go to bed without fear or concern that I have to brace for one of those anymore. Hated those. Hated.

I joined a few Warfarin and mechanical heart valve support groups on Facebook. That has been interesting reading to be sure. Encouraging, but also reality check for me that in comparison to some people’s experiences, mine has been relatively easy going. Ever need to get your mind off yourself and in check, start talking to other people. Not about you, but ask them how they are. Practice listening … and wowza, what you learn and … for me, I find gratitude for my own life despite my circumstances.

This week, my friend Kris is in a St. Louis hospital with what looks to be blood cancer. His wife, Jamie, is my dear friend, and her Facebook posts regarding their experiences over the last two weeks have me praying for their peace in the midst of this crazy, awful storm, for Kris’s love of Jesus to shine on and near every person they encounter in this hard journey, for Jamie to be an Esther and have strength and love for such a time as this as she supports her beloved husband through these days, for God to use Kris and Jamie for His glory! Selfishly, I want to pray for Kris’s complete healing! But … just as in my situation, as believers, our lives are to be a testimony to God’s grace, however He sees fit. So, I pray for peace and strength in the middle of the storm as well as in the calmest of days for Kris and Jamie. Knowing what is happening in their lives puts me in check to know I am not the only person going through hard times, and I need to choose to be grateful, never full of woe for myself. Choose to continue to ask God for peace and strength in my life and for Him to use me as He sees fit. Amen.

So, this week, at this stage of recovery, with all of this going on, I am cooking, de-cluttering, puttering, cleaning, doing schoolwork, going to meetings, even some laundry with the help of my dad’s grabber tool – although my APRN friend says I shouldn’t do laundry yet … I took it very slow and used a tool. 😇. I made four video lectures this week, and my Fall semester course shells are ready to go. Positives. I’m going to focus on the positives.

There are other things I could focus on … feel sorry for myself … the topic “You find out who actually cares about you” comes to mind, but I’m going to let that go. My life is a gift – it always has been – I didn’t have the wherewithal to recognize that before, not really. But now … every day I have is a gift from God, and I know each day is to be used for Him. That is what I choose to focus on. God’s grace and the gratitude I have to live now on “borrowed” time from Him. My heart, and my life, literally spiritually, physically, mentally, and emotionally in His hands. By Grace. With Grace. I am grateful.

Amen!

Week 8 is loading …..

Understanding Mitral Valve Regurgitation – My Story

“Can you describe how your heart feels abnormal?”

My cardiologist asked me that question last year, and I thought about it for a second, realizing that because he asked me how my heart feels abnormal, I understood that what I do feel is not normal. I realized I don’t know what “normal” feels like, and I don’t remember if I ever felt “normal.” In the eighth grade, I was diagnosed with Mitral valve prolapse; it’s something I never gave much thought to because I was told it was fairly common. I knew any time I was going to go to the dentist for work like fillings or surgery, I was to tell the offices in advance that I had Mitral valve prolapse so they could get me a script for an antibiotic, which I had to take for five days before those appointments. Still, it was not something I took seriously nor thought much about until this past February when I went to my cardiologist’s office for a blood pressure med check appointment, and the CNA I saw listened to my heart and expressed concern at what she heard. She ordered an EKG on the spot, gave me a heart monitor to wear for two days, and ordered an Echocardiogram. Truthfully, I was irritated – it was just a med check appointment, and I almost didn’t go.

Once all three tests were completed, I received a call from a cardiac specialist’s office, ready to set me up with appointments with the cardiac specialist and the cardiac surgeon. That phone call in April left me confused and concerned, to say the least; still, though, I didn’t think too much about it beyond, “What the heck?” Also, why hadn’t my cardiologist’s office contacted me themselves about the test results … So, Patrick and I made those appointments – and we walked away with the understanding that my heart does not function normally – that it is “severely leaking,” and it requires open heart surgery to repair it. To be told this was like unexpectedly getting hit in the head with a sack of potatoes. We left the building, sat outside the specialist’s office on a bench, and held hands, both of us in shock – thinking, praying, wiping tears, and wondering at the immediate future and beyond. In the weeks since I was told that I would be having open heart surgery to either repair or replace my Mitral Valve and had the status of my heart explained to me, I have thought a lot about that question my cardiologist asked me a year ago, “Can you describe how your heart feels abnormal?”

The answer is that I can only tell you I feel my heart. I’m aware of it most of the time. I have a heaviness in my chest – I don’t know how to describe it other than to say, ‘a heaviness.’ Sometimes, it is more pronounced, but I am always aware of my heart beating. Sometimes, I feel it and hear it beating in my ears – not audibly where anyone around me can hear it, but I do. Internally. It’s weird. Every time I lay down, I have a “flushing” – a rush of what must be ill-guided blood that flushes my body – and it feels central to my heart; it causes a dizzy sensation that overtakes me completely for 20-40 seconds – like a handheld lava lamp that you can tilt back and forth, and the goo runs one way and then the next. I worry that I might explode …. Over the last few years, it has gotten more pronounced – and it is every time I lay down – if Patrick is near, I hold on for dear life – as if he could do something about it. Sometimes, I am standing, and I get dizzy. No reason necessarily, just dizzy, and I grab onto whatever or whoever is near me. Sometimes, my heart feels like a ball with too much air pumped into it, which might burst. I feel short of breath, and I find myself touching my chest as if that can somehow calm how the most vital organ inside my body feels. Sometimes, I feel it “skip beats.” However, what I know now is that it’s not skipping beats as much as it is working overtime, fluttering (which is Premature Ventricular Contraction) because my mitral valve is “severely leaking,” which is called Mitral Valve Regurgitation. To better put it into words, here is what the Cleveland Clinic’s website says regarding Mitral Valve Regurgitation. It says, “Mitral valve regurgitation. This is commonly known as a ‘leaky valve.’ Your valve flaps don’t close all the way, leading to some blood leaking in the wrong direction. This is most often caused by mitral valve prolapse. Mitral valve prolapse. People with this condition have mitral valve flaps that are too floppy or stretchy. About 6 in 10 mitral valve surgeries are due to leaky valves caused by leaflet prolapse.”   The PVCs are my lower atrium working overtime to keep up with the inability of my Mitral Valve to pump blood through my heart correctly. According to the Mayo Clinic, “Premature ventricular contractions (PVCs) are extra heartbeats that begin in one of the heart’s two lower pumping chambers (ventricles). These extra beats disrupt the regular heart rhythm, sometimes causing a sensation of a fluttering or a skipped beat in the chest.”  The echocardiogram from April revealed that I have a “significant” number of PVCs occurring in singlets, couplets, and triplets. I feel these all day, every day … but I didn’t realize this was abnormal. Now, I do, and I’m hyper-aware of them.

“Can you describe how your heart feels abnormal?” is a strange question to ask someone who does not know how a “normal” heart feels because they’ve either never had one or gotten so used to subtle changes over time that ‘normal’ changed along with the functioning of the heart. Now that I know my heart is not “normal,” I’m looking forward to getting on the other side of surgery to discover what heart normies experience – what it is to not be aware of my heart every moment, to not feel, like I do right now as I’m writing this, that there is a heaviness in my chest, a burden, and I have to draw a deep breath for relief which only lasts a moment before the heaviness returns and the sensations of fluttering occur.

Yesterday, the required bloodwork was completed for procedures this upcoming Monday, June 3rd. My doctors will put scopes down my esophagus and up through an artery in my thigh, and they will take pictures with tiny cameras of the inside and the backside of my heart. It is my understanding that with these pictures, the surgeon will determine what type of surgery will be completed to help me be more ‘normal’ and have the greatest opportunity for good quality of life for a longer time. If left alone with no surgery, there is the risk of sudden death with my condition – and most certainly progressive Congestive Heart Failure, which is what took my Momma from us in a prolonged fashion that stole her quality of life and left her dependent upon an oxygen machine and incapable of doing all the things she loved to do. You better believe my sweet Momma is heavy on my mind. With her heart failure, by the time the surgeon went in to try to repair her Mitral Valve, her heart’s condition was too weakened. In their endeavor to repair her heart, it began clotting, and they had to admit defeat at correcting her condition. My doctors assured me that I am ‘young,’ which I thanked them for, and they believe surgery is my only option for, as I said, good quality of life for a longer time.

It will either be a Mitral Valve Replacement or a Mitral Valve Repair. I’ve done reading, of course, and the repair seems like the much better option. I’m not going to stress, though … this is in God’s hands, and what will be will be. I’ll either wake up from surgery with recovery to do and life to continue to live for as long as God has me here on this earth in this mortal body, or I’ll wake up in the presence of God, my tasks on earth complete. Either way, I’m choosing to live each moment in front of me as it comes right now, in the present, enjoying my husband, laughing with my children, reaching out to friends, learning to rest, making amends, preparing my classes, and anticipating a new batch of students, and just being grateful for this life I have and the opportunity to bring smiles and hope to others.

On the other side of surgery, I fully intend, God willing, to document the healing process—perhaps this will help someone else along the way to understand what “normal” is and what it is not so that help can be sought early. Normie heart people, apparently, don’t feel their heart every moment of every day or experience what I shared here … if your heart feels funky, get checked. Listen to your heart …

That reminds me of a song—”Listen to Your Heart” by Roxette, and now my mind is wandering. This is proof that it’s time to move on to another activity—like listening to that awesome song.