Today is my birthday. Two weeks ago today, I had triple-bypass surgery on my heart.

Trust me, no one was more shocked with this diagnosis than me. It came out of nowhere, just a few weeks after running my fifth Disney World 10-miler.

A few days before my procedure, my heart surgeon told me I was the healthiest person UNC Hospitals would perform this surgery on in more than two years. Apparently, the last guy who didn’t look like he needed open-heart-surgery was an avid marathoner.

I have raced in more than 75 triathlons in my life — in fact, earlier this year I signed up to do the infamous Escape from Alcatraz for the seventh time this spring, as well as IRONMAN Chattanooga. Little did I know.

So what happened?

I noticed my run pace, whether at the end of a triathlon or just doing workouts, and even 5Ks and 10Ks — had slowed ever so slightly this year. I remember running a UNC sorority 5K earlier this year and being disappointed I ran it at a 10:06-minute pace — my “normal” pace for a race like that was usually below 8:45. I chalked it up to getting older as all my friends who were older than me have always told me my pace would slow.

However, I also noticed I was getting heartburn during my runs, even training runs, that started in mid March. But it always went away as soon as I stopped running. And I never got heartburn swimming — something I would do at least two to three times a week — or when riding on my bike or doing the StairMaster.

Then in mid-April, I went to Orlando to visit my parents and run in the Walt Disney World Spring Surprise, a simple, short, extremely fun 10-mile FLAT run course. I’ve done this race before and love it. But from mile two until the end, I had heartburn, and it didn’t go away this time. In fact, I had it all day. But, no traditional left-arm pain and I certainly wouldn’t consider heartburn to be the tell-tale “chest pain.”

I texted my doctor and he made and appointment for me to come in and see him the next week. He checked my blood pressure, asked me to explain my symptoms and then ordered a nuclear medicine stress test. I was scheduled to fly to Tokyo the next week and he said that I would be fine to go since “anyone who just ran 10 miles isn’t an immediate heart attack risk.”

I went to Tokyo. (I loved it.) I did notice I was a bit more tired at the end of each day, but I had flown 17 hours to get there—who wouldn’t be tired?

The day after returning from Tokyo, I had my stress test. I’ve done them before, but not the nuclear medicine one. This one was different. You still run on a ridiculously-inclined treadmill (think 30-40 degrees) while being strapped to 12-EKG leads all over my chest and legs. I made it about 10 minutes. The doctor observing it seemed impressed I went that long. Then, they tell me to go to the hospital cafeteria and eat the greasiest food I can find — bacon, sausage, grits topped with cheese, etc. I loved that part as it’s not something I do often! Then 30 minutes later I am in a CT scanner and they’re injecting dye into my heart.

I failed.

On my drive home, the doctor called me and told me I need to go to the pharmacy to pick up a beta blocker and blood pressure medicine. Oh, and he says to not exercise at all as they don’t want my heart rate to go above 120 bpm. Finally, he tells me he’s scheduling me for emergency heart catheterization as I have “severe” blockage in my arteries.

The word severe didn’t sound good.

Friday morning, I’m in the heart catheterization lab to have a camera inserted up my arm and after which they plan to stent any blockage. Apparently, this is a very low-risk procedure, even though placing a camera through my arm to my heart seems pretty invasive to me.

I’m kinda aware of what’s going on, but pretty loopy. They don’t put you totally to sleep. All I remember hearing was, “This isn’t going to work.”

Twenty minutes later, I awoke to the doctor standing over me telling me I am the perfect candidate for triple bypass surgery. Stents won’t work as two of my arteries are 95% blocked while a third is well over 80%.

What? Perfect Candidate? And, how do I go from being a triathlete who eats well (except for my love of ice cream) and works out six days a week to ready for a triple bypass?

I have never even known anyone under the age of 60 who’s had a bypass, much less three of them.

I am adopted, and I know nothing of my family history and but apparently, that’s where the answers were. The doctor explained my situation is 100% hereditary.

Two weeks ago today, I walked into UNC Hospital to have open-heart surgery in which doctors took veins from my legs to use as three new arteries for my heart.

I don’t wish this surgery on anyone. It’s painful. You end up sliced from your neck to nearly your belly button and they cut through the breastbone (sternum) to access your heart. The procedure lasted almost six hours and I awoke at around 10 p.m. to the nicest, most patient nurse I’ve ever encountered who verbally walked me through what it would take for her to remove my breathing tube. This was smart — they knew I was claustrophobic and had restrained my arms knowing I’d likely grab the breathing tube myself.

“What is your pain level, from 1 to 10?”, she asked.

“11.”  I wasn’t joking. I can only explain this pain as what it would feel like if you were walking in the middle of the road and a giant truck hit you head-on.

She spent the next two hours trying different pain meds to help me not feel in total anguish. I will be perfectly frank with all of you reading this: I was depressed in that moment. I could not imagine enduring this level of pain for very long. I felt sorry for anyone and everyone who’d ever had this surgery before me.

By 1 a.m. on May 9, she found the right pain mixture so that I could stay awake, breathe on my own and tolerate the pain. I went out of my way to find her when I was discharged from the hospital six days later to thank her, and apologize for being a miserable patient. She told me I was calm and listened, but I apologized anyway.

That morning they had me stand up, then walk. Here are two videos that give you a glimpse of what that’s like, less than 12 hours after surgery. When I first saw this video three days ago, I was shocked by the amount of tubes and wires I was connected to.

 

I ended up staying in the hospital nearly a week. On my last morning there, I walked to the other side of the hospital looking for something more interesting to see than the hospital hallways and waiting rooms I’d been seeing for days. I was far enough away that the machines weren’t picking me up and they were kind of upset I was gone so long. But I was bored and ready for rehab, so they finally let me out.

Although I haven’t technically started rehab yet, I am walking every day. Yesterday, I walked for time and a total of six miles near my house. Because of the size of my chest incision, I am not allowed to drive, ride in a car or even leave my neighborhood.

I am taking 15 medicines a day. Blood thinners, beta blockers, blood pressure meds, statins, etc. My pain threshold has improved. As I write this, I am constantly experiencing a four out of 10 but it’s more bearable now. Sleep sucks though. I cannot find a comfortable position and coughing or sneezing is super painful.

I have to blow into an incentive spirometer 200+ times a day. I don’t really know where my lung capacity is now but, I would guess about 60%. I can tell it’s improving every day.

Walking is familiar and not too painful, though steps are. Going up is significantly harder than coming down.

My life’s passion has been teaching, educating. I am lucky to be a professor at one of the top universities in the U.S. I have also spent my entire professional career in AV and digital signage educating. I’ve been awarded every major teaching recognition in the audiovisual industry and have been a CTS-certified teacher since the 1990s.

So I feel the need to be totally transparent and share my experience with you. Maybe it’s to just explain why I won’t seem the “same” at the upcoming InfoComm show in June. Maybe it’s because I not only look different but, I feel different. Or maybe it’s just because I might get tired of telling the same story over and over. I’m making great progress and will definitely be there though!

This has been one heck of a learning experience, one that I hope none of you reading this will ever have to experience. If you take anything from this I would say, listen to your body. Hypochondriac or not, if you feel something isn’t right, it very well may not be right.

I was lucky. The first time I had a visit, while I was still in the hospital, with my surgeon he told me that had I waited two weeks longer, I likely wouldn’t have made it. I would likely have had a heart attack and, depending on where I was at that moment it happened, the outcome could have been less than ideal. He told me that I shouldn’t have been able to finish that 10-mile Disney run with the level of blockage I had. It didn’t make sense, medically.

So I’m lucky. It’s my birthday today, and I am enjoying the nice emails and texts from people all over the world just saying, “Happy Birthday.”

Thank you and I will see my UNC colleagues in August when school starts up and, for the rest of you, I look forward to seeing you at InfoComm, next month, in Orlando! For me, that will be a full-circle moment.