marinealways24 had asked if I would write something about my heart problem. So here it is Marine, it is a little longer than I intended so pardon me as I continue.

I was evidently born with Atrial Fibrillation, or A-Fib for short. I never knew this until I was hospitalized in 2001 over Christmas with my first heart failure. A-Fib is a disorder of the heart in the two small upper chambers (Atria). It quivers instead of beating during fibrillation. Because of this the blood in that part of the heart does not get pumped completely out, so therefore it can pool and clot. If a piece of that clot breaks loose it can kill by stroke. Around 15% of stroke victims have A-Fib. 3-5% of persons over 65 have A-Fib.

I had experiences through my life that I just thought were normal, you know like dizzy spells at times and I fainted once for no obvious reason when I was about 35 and I carry a scar from that one episode in front of my left ear. I felt my heart ‘go funny’ at times as it just had a strange beat to it and I would just take a wee break and then I would be OK for quite awhile before I would ever experience it again. All those years on the farm baling hay and shoveling shit as a youngster and all the heavy lifting I did in the Oil Patch, never a sign of problems with my heart. It never showed up in my many physicals either.

I was diagnosed with a rare form Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma in ’93 and the long treatments for it saved my life, though it is still with me. One regimen lasted for two years and all but destroyed my heart. After my first congestive heart failure while still in hospital, I was amazed that I had to learn to walk again. I had no strength and was blissfully unaware of how close I had been to death. I experienced this two more times in three years before my medications were properly adjusted along with more treatments for my lymphoma. My thyroid went all funky and I had to get that fixed as well. I learned the problem with that was from the many CT/Scans and MRIs in that the contrast has iodine and it messed with my thyroid funking it out. They now take it easy on me with that shit as I am highly allergic to it now.

My doctors all have had quite a time with me. I have my family Dr, the Cardiologist, the Oncologist, the Endocrinologist (thyroid and diabetes) and several Surgeons. The aorta going into my heart was enlarged and I experienced angina symptoms. The enlarged aorta finally decreased and I was on Nitro tablets often. The pain I experienced was as if I had an ice cube stuck in my esophagus behind my breastbone. The pain would travel up my neck and into my jaw. It was delightfully painful I tell you. I was able to lower my cholesterol by walking regularly and watching my diet. Finally I got my diabetes in check and I thought I was doing well. Fate had other conceptions in mind for self.

My Oncologist had said that he never wanted to see me have major surgery for fear of it killing me. That was a rather frightening tidbit. Well during this time unknown to me they had discovered an aneurysm in my belly (AAA) and never told me until it was of substantial size. My poor wife almost fainted upon hearing this as that is what killed her own mother. Surgery was imminent or death would come quickly. I was naturally concerned but my wife was living in fear for some time. That fear grew into horror for the family when the day came when I was loaded onto a helicopter bound for Cleveland and everyone knew I would be dead DOA as they had thought my aneurysm was leaking. This would be my fifth hospital stay, which always lasted a week or more.

A week later I was still alive and all patched up and doing pretty well. I had my stent placed into my belly on Valentines Day and went home ashen and weakened from starvation and the trauma of it all three days later. The reason I survived is the way my Surgeon did the procedure. He did a spinal, or saddle block, for my anesthetic so I was pretty much aware of all that was going on during surgery. They feared if I had general anesthetics that I would die from it because of my heart condition. Two cuts on either side of my groin, two incisions on both sides of my abdomen about 2 1/2 inches wide and all’s well that ends well, right? Yeah, I thought so too. This was in February and I did fine up until September.

I went to my semi-annual check up at my Cardiologist and he told me that since I was doing well, and by the way he was happy that I survived my most expensive flight to Cleveland, that I now needed to think about having a pacemaker implanted. My heart had been healing itself for a few years but he felt that I may need some help. He also said that if the electric pulses in the lower regions of my heart had one little miss I would die and no amount of assistance could bring me back. Now that was a little plus to get me to agree with him. He said it would take a while to get it all set up for me and that I would have to go back to Cleveland Clinic for the procedure as no one could do it here in Wooster. It was to be a simple procedure with an overnight stay. Oh yeah.

Within days, yes, that quickly he called me and had an appointment made for the procedure to be done. The next week I was there all prepared. I joined a clinical trial during this time also and I was informed by my new Cardiologist that I was to have a new device implanted that is not only a pacemaker but a defibrillator as well. It is known as an ICD (implantable cardioverter-defibrillator). This is a three-lead electrical impulse generator used in patients who are at risk of sudden cardiac death due to ventricular fibrillation. There is a lead, or wire that enters the right side of the heart and then is fed through a vein into the left ventricle and just left there. This is the wire that saves me I guess when I need a good shock.

Now the day I was admitted I was told the procedure only took up to three hours. Right. It seems something always goes wrong with me during these times and the unexpected is always expected by me now. I am a very experienced patient and Murphy’s Law always applies to me. I sat in a chair in the waiting area with my family and we talked as we observed the line of patients steadily shrink in number as one would get called in for the procedure I was to shortly go through. Most of them would have a regular pacemaker implanted but a few such as my self would share in having a defibrillator. It seemed to go like clockwork. I sat there in my gown with an IV in my arm as my name was finally called and I was ushered through the door. I think it was something like 12.30 PM. Now the Dr.’s had already done about 8 surgeries.

I was placed on the operating table and the sweetest of nurses were there to tend to me cleaning and shaving my chest. Why is it always so cold in these places? I was shivering. The anesthesiologist came in with my Surgeon/Cardiologist and more was explained to me and I was given some drugs to make me drowsy. They did not want to put me totally under, as a regular patient would be. I vaguely remember the jokes and chitchat but mostly I just slept for a bit. Then I felt pressure, then pain, sharp pain. I awakened to find myself in a darkened tent and the pain in my left upper chest. I thought my shoulder was being ripped apart. The doctor had me cut open and I could feel him tearing my skin to make a pouch to hold the device. I groaned some and complained that I could not breathe. The nurses comforted me with kind words and lifted the tent so I could get fresh air while the Dr. continued with his deed. More dope was administered and I slept again, for awhile. Yes, I did have an oxygen line on my nose.

I awakened with severe pain in my ass. I wiggled and the Doctor’s voice told me to please be still. “My ass feels like a waffle!” I said loudly. Laughter erupted as more dope was given, I slept again. I heard mumbled voices complaining as I slept lightly. A few more jokes and it was all like a dream that became a nightmare. I felt strange things invading my heart and chest. I could not move. What the hell was going on? I awakened again screaming, “My ass is a waffle!” “Please Mr. Campbell! Don’t move.” “My ass hurts!” More dope and I wake up later in a room in a bed it is 10 PM. An attentive nurse is with me. Where is my wife?

I am told all is well now and to just rest, the Dr. will be in shortly to talk with me. I reach for the phone and call my wife who had just walked into the house. She informs me that she did see me and talk with me before leaving. I sure didn’t remember that. OK, will see you in the morning love you dear. Then the clinical trial people came in and filled me in on how awful it must have been for me to go down in history for having the longest, hardest time for having a device implanted. Yes Mr. Campbell, it took 7 ½ hours to get yours implanted. I knew it! My ass still hurt. Those damn operating tables were not built for comfort. I never could sleep on my back anyway. My ass not only hurt it was numb. Like I had yelled, it felt like a waffle. They told me I would be seen by them in the morning but Terry, the Nurse in charge of it, told me what he witnessed as it was his first experience and I was his very first patient. They had knocked me totally out and tested the device to make sure all was well. I reckon I flopped around on that table like a fish out of water from what he told me. No wonder I felt so tired and hurt so bad. All I wanted now was sleep and peace. Hah!

My floor nurse came in to check me out. Now the dope had been out of my system for some time but I was sleeping very nicely and in no pain. She lifted my left arm to do a blood pressure check, oh the pain! Sorry, I forgot. I feel so bad Mr. Campbell please forgive me. I was in pain like never before. Morphine was quickly given and I slept for a while anyway before they came to check on me again. An older nurse came in with a real ICD like mine and she explained it all to me and let me fondle it. It was heavy, but small and it had this huge wire connected to it. She explained how it might pinch me when I am lying on my side and to just use my fingers to move it around in there to make it more comfortable. Yeah right! The thought of it revolted me and I hadn’t seen my chest yet as it was under cover and all bandaged up. The thought of touching it gave me the willies, let alone seeing it.

Doctor came to see me and explained it all in great detail once again. The effects of the dope has erased most of what he said. I do remember that he told me the vein in my heart that the third wire has to go through is exceptionally small and it was very difficult for him to fish the wire through it. Any other patient and he would have called another surgeon to cut my abdomen open and get into my heart that way. This Dr. is my number one hero today. Think of what he went through to keep me alive, for I surely would not be if he had not succeeded. The other option surely would have killed me.

Images of my late father-in-law came to mind. He’d had a pacemaker implanted in his right breast back in the 80’s when they were the size of transistor radios of the fifties. That freaked me out when I saw that. Mine is much more powerful, better and only a little bigger than a silver dollar but thicker. My bulge is so big because of that heavy third lead for it is wrapped like the 250 volt on your electric range. One week after this procedure I was on the roof installing new shingles.

I am now doing well. That was in 2007. The pain is all gone. I no longer take Nitro and life is good. I have yet to have a ‘treatment’ from my defibrillator that I know of. I sleep beside a heart monitor now that checks on me regularly and reports my status directly to the Dr. via the phone line. Gee I almost feel like the Grinch. I do kind of have two hearts now. I have an extended life and am better for it as I have better stamina and ease of mind. I only need a new battery every five years or so. I guess that will be another adventure for me. Oh no. I did have a new tumor removed from my back this last spring. That was fun and now I face another bout of treatments for that. What a life I lead. That year, 2007 was the most expensive year I have had. It cost over $250,000 to keep me alive. My wife now calls me her Quarter Million Dollar Man.

I must carry a Medical Device ID on my person at all times from Boston Scientific with the Model/Serial number along with other numbers that identify the three leads. I also carry an Airport Security card that identifies me as a patient with an implanted device. Those metal detectors can really screw one up as well as those theft detectors in stores that I must quickly walk through. I can’t be around certain electrical devices like welders or MRI machines. No magnets and my cell phone must be kept at least six inches or so away from it and I must not lean over any car/truck engine when it is running. The microwave oven is OK. All in all I guess I will be fine now. Thanks for reading this. I need to get off of my waffle ass now for it is in pain from sitting for so long writing this hub.