A fixer upper…

So in 5 days I’ll be remodeled.   Sort of a fixer-upper heart job for which Howard Song and Matt Slater are my contractors.  Tuesday morning at OHSU, a little after 6 am, they’ll put me under and open me up.  SVR is a relatively new procedure that has the capacity to extend my life–without all the hospitalizations and emergency room trips that have come to populate these last 12 months.  In fact, this surgery will come just 10 days before the anniversary of my Congestive Heart Failure diagnosis last January.  Wow.  It has been a long year.

I recall reading many academic/medical papers about Congestive Heart Failure back when I was first diagnosed that reported that 50% of CHF patients die within the first year of diagnosis.  So I believe I am going to beat that one in the next few weeks!

These days before the operation feel surreal.  I’m an optimistic guy.  I expect things will go swell.  But in the back of my mind (and Judy’s, and probably Jenny and Pat’s…) is the reality of mortality.  It’s hard to dismiss the words of my cardiologist just a few months ago who said he didn’t think surgery was a good idea because, “…I’m afraid we’d lose you on the table.”  Judy was there when he said it.  We’re both polluted with those words.

My heart sucks.  No question about that.  But OHSU has proven itself over these last 9 months.  I could easily have died several times, but they’ve pulled my butt out of the fire and given me heart function that should withstand the rigors of this surgery.  So I trust them.  I am gambling this operation against a near certain mortality of 50% to 75% within 5 years.  And if this works, I could have years before the next step–heart transplant.

So I am not doubting the risk/benefit tradeoff.  Nor am I doubting the Cardiology team and surgeons.  Or my own ability to recover.  But, truth be told, there niggles in my head the reality that one of the greatest risks is death.  And so, when I look at an expensive coat at Nordstom’s with Gary and Pat, the wisecrack that, “If I get it, it might just be part of my estate…” is one of those morbid moments that contain dark truth.  Dark truth that I often think about.

How many times have you asked someone, or been asked, “What would you do if you only had a week to live?”  Not so funny question.

I went to Jenny’s office on the top floor of the Regence building after we’d returned from lunch.  Many people shook my hand and offered me their hopes and prayers and best wishes–many from simply reading this blog. For some of them, as with some of the staff at the church this morning, I look awfully good for someone going into open-heart surgery in just a couple days.  And it’s true.  I’m neither feeble nor gray.  Every part of my body is working great except this darn little heart.

So I accepted the outstretched hands and the thoughtful, prayerful notes of encouragement.  And made a silent prayer of my own that these be enough for me over the coming week.  We have buried two parents in the final weeks of December.  I refuse to start the New Year off with a third.

I am told that I will be in surgery for “a long time.”  As soon as they have any word, I’m sure Judy/Jenny/Pat will be on the horn letting everyone know.

I will be in the Cardiac ICU for a few days.  Possibly on a ventilator.  Then I will be transferred to the 11th floor–the “healing ward” that I have visited many times before.  I’ll be in the hospital for another 3 to 5 days and then home to recover.  It’s my goal to be at mass on January 14 when one of our Confirmation staff, Caitlin Whitty, gives a talk.  By the end of the month I’m hoping I can make the last Confirmation session of the second quarter.

I know that there will be many positive thoughts and a multitude of prayers offered on my behalf on Tuesday.  Thank you for those.  I for one am going to turn my attention beyond the surgery while enjoying every moment before it.

Now get those resolutions finished…2006 is coming to an end and the hope of a new year is upon us.