Showing posts with label heart cath. Show all posts
Showing posts with label heart cath. Show all posts

Thursday, August 8, 2024

Cath #4

Here we are again... A new cardiologist, a new medical system, another cath. This one was as much a test for the new team to familiarize themselves with my long-standing coronary artery disease, as much as my need to understand whether the new symptoms that I have been feeling and some of the bad blood test results that I have been receiving were because of new blockages in my coronary arteries. 


Since my first cath, when I was 30 (hard to believe that was almost 20 years ago), all the cardiologists I have seen have told me that my coronary artery disease (CAD) is so advanced and my cholesterol is so far from my target that the only reliable way to know for sure whether my arteries will need intervention, before a major event would happen, would be through a cath. They almost all recommended that I would have a cath every 5 years. 


The previous cardiologist that I had until earlier this year (for 6 years) was too nervous to do a cath at the 5 year mark because he said with the amount of artery disease that he was sure  I had it would not be prudent to have a cath, to not “dislodge something” (his words). 


But my cardiac symptoms have continued to change and not for the better. 


For a couple of years now, my shortness of breath has worsened. Even when I do light chores around the house, like carrying a laundry basket the 20 or so feet from my bedroom to the laundry room, I am breathless. My BNP (which, in layman’s terms, is a measure of the degree of heart failure your heart is in) has gone up to 700 pg/ml (normally, the target is under 100 pg/ml), but it has been fluctuating, too - anywhere from 200 to 700 pg/ml. 


My chest pressure is more intense when I exercise - not necessarily only in my chest, but my left arm, shoulder, shoulder blade and the left side of my neck all go numb and they feel like someone is stopping circulation to them or strangling me. It’s a scary feeling and it happens virtually every time I go for a brisk walk, climb even a small hill or walk in the heat. 


My blood pressure has worsened but I am controlling it better now with a drug that (finally!) works, after months of trial and error with many new and old drugs. 


Typically, even when they don’t recommend a cath every so often to determine CAD, they do recommend a cath when your symptoms or your heart blood tests are worsening. But even with all these changes, the previous cardiologist refused to do another cath. 


The new cardiologist agreed that it would probably be beneficial to do one. He skipped the stress test with contrast because he said we already know I have CAD. And whether the stress test comes back perfect, inconclusive, or modified, he would still follow it up with a cath. Somehow, through some kind of magic, he got the cath approved with the insurance (they typically want a less invasive and cheaper test before they approve the cath). 



After the procedure, right leg still flat, but ready for the IV to come out.


So, off to the cath lab we go. Everything went according to plan, and it was great to report that there is not much change in the status of my arteries since the last time they did the cath with my previous team, 6 years ago. 


The main findings were:

  • the LAD (Left Anterior Descending, aka “the widow maker”) is still at 50% blocked, but that is open enough to not require any intervention at this time. All the segments of this main branch are listed with “no significant stenosis”. Since this artery irrigates pretty much the entire left side of your heart (which is “the pump”, responsible for sending blood to your entire body), this artery is the workhorse of the heart. So, it’s good news that, although it is diseased, it provides accurate flow to the heart. He made no special mention about the bypass graft for the LAD which was put in place 8 years ago when I had my open-heart surgery. The cath I had 6 years ago does not speak about the LAD graft/ bypass either, although it mentioned other grafts (I had four arteries bypassed) as either being open or completely occluded. 

  • the Left Circumflex artery shows “no significant” stenosis in all its segments. 
  • one of the Obtuse Marginal arteries (which irrigates the upper part of the heart and is one of the branches of the Left Circumflex artery is between 80-90% blocked. The bypass put in place when I had my surgery is completely (100%) closed. 
  • there are two other arteries (the Left Posterior Descending and the Right Coronary) that are described as “small”, but without any mention of any disease. 


Their overall assessment is that, indeed, there is “existing advanced coronary artery disease” (the doctor even called it “aggressive”), but that at this time nothing requires an intervention and the disease seems to be stable from 6 years ago. 


This new interventional cardiologist (my regular cardiologist is not an interventional one, so he does not perform caths or any other procedures) was the first doctor that did not advise to keep getting caths every 5 years. He said to only get one when symptoms change. Which ... is relative, in my book. Like I said above - the symptoms have changed. However, the cath did not seem to reveal anything new. So, while I am thrilled that there is no new or more severe disease, the questions of the causes for the new shortness of breath, increased chest pressure, higher blood pressure and a higher level of BNP still remain. 


The cath lab doctors did recommend increasing one of my blood pressure medicines (Amlodipine) from 5 mg/ day to 7.5 mg/day, but I will wait to also chat with my regular cardiologist before I do that, as he prescribed a diuretic instead, for the same symptoms. So, I need to review with him my meds, my symptoms and my cath findings as he is more familiar with my larger heart condition than a doctor who saw me for 25 minutes in the cath lab. Making this decision to wait before making changes to my meds is something I have done often. I want the doctor with the most knowledge about me, about my personal case and history, about my extensive file of heart disease and hypercholesterolemia to be in charge of all the changes in my meds after we sit down and together explore the best approach and outcome. 


A word about the procedure itself: 


Everyone will tell you that a cath is not a walk in the park. It’s inconvenient, invasive, somewhat traumatic if you are intimidated by doctors and hospitals and needles; it’s kinda scary because it does come with risks, like any procedure and with side effects depending on the drugs they give you, or the treatment they might perform while you’re in the lab, or depending on how well the healing is going after you go home. But having done four caths, all at different labs and by different doctors, I am not scared of them anymore. 


You come to the hospital early (before daybreak, usually), you get into hospital clothes (all street clothes must go), you get your own bay in a long ward, complete with your own machines, a tv and a call button for the nurse. You get an IV put in, a couple of nurses and doctors come and take vitals from you and ask you about 10,000 questions. 


And then, they do some blood tests. Usually a complete metabolic panel (CMP) to look especially for infections or kidney problems, and I get an INR which shows whether your blood clotting number is normal. Four days before the cath I had to stop my blood thinner medication (Warfarin) so that the femoral artery that they access the heart through can heal after the procedure. They look for kidney problems because they use dye. You must have healthy kidneys so your body can flush it out after the test is done. Sometimes they give you saline through the IV after the test to speed out the elimination of the dye. But they didn’t do this this time. They just told me to drink a lot of water after I leave. 


After the tests and the interrogation are over, they wheel you in the cath lab which looks like an operating room that you see in the movies. They put you on this table and there is a huge TV next to you, where they will see your arteries. They usually give you sedation to relax you and so you won’t care about what is going on. But every time I have gotten a cath I have insisted on not getting sedation, because I want to be aware of what is going on and be able to speak with the doctors about the findings as they see them. This time was no different: I got no sedation and the nurse said he did not hear of anything like it. “What do you mean no sedation?” The recovery time is shorter if you get no sedation. 


They give you some local anesthesia at the top of your leg, in the groin area, and then they make a tiny slit in your femoral artery through which they insert a sheath through which they will insert catheters of various calibers that will go all the way to the arteries of your heart. You have a small X-ray-looking machine above your chest that I am assuming shows pictures of the catheter going through the arteries on the big TV screen. Once there, they inject dye and they look on the screen to follow the flow of the blood through the arteries. 


I had two doctors this time - one was the attending (he mostly supervised and shouted out the findings) and the other one was a fellow who actually performed the procedure. The attending spoke with me the whole time. 


Although you do get a local anesthesia, you do feel some sort of pressure while they maneuver the catheter inside the femoral artery. This cath was hands-down the most painful of all the ones I have gotten. But I still didn’t ask for any other tranquilizers or anesthesia. It was over in 30 minutes. 


After the procedure, you have to rest flat on your back for an hour, after a specialized nurse removes the sheath from your artery and applies massive pressure to stop the bleeding. After an hour of lying flat, they let you lift your head and recline, but you still cannot bend your leg for an hour. After that, they want you to walk around the long ward. After another hour of paperwork and advice on what to do home, you leave. I was at the hospital at 6.30 AM. We made it back home around 2 PM the same day. This was the first time when I did not leave the hospital in a wheel chair, but they told me that’s because I didn’t have any sedation, so the risk of being dizzy or unstable was very small. However, I do have artery disease, something could have been dislodged or cause a blockage or clot in the wrong vessel - but they didn’t seem too concerned with this. 


In the end, I am glad we did the cath. It put my mind at ease somewhat that no new blockages are formed and the heart still looks like it’s working normally and doing its job.This has been a life-long, constant, 24-7 job - to keep my heart clean and running. Just like the heart never rests, I never rest in babying it as best as I can. 


Between trying to keep my cholesterol as low as possible with whatever I can, following up with all the appointments, having a huge open-heart surgery at 40, where I had massive work done to clean out my sick arteries, replace my valve, replace my aorta, keeping my weight under control, learning as much as I can about FH and heart disease, learning to listen to all the symptoms, always fighting for the right care for me, switching doctors, traveling when needed, learning how to eat a clean diet, even when the whole world tells you that a diet won’t make a difference - all of these and more contribute to being here and living a full life, for me, at 49. This is so many more years beyond what my original prediction was when, at 8 years old when they diagnosed me with FH, the life expectancy that I was given was somewhere between 10 to 15 more years, at most. 


I am grateful for it all and most importantly for the thousands of people who constantly look for a cure. For the thousands of gutsy people who have FH and who participated in many clinical trials so we can get better drugs. And for some brilliant people that have been on my side. I have always felt like an experiment with this disease. And I am beyond the moon that the experiment has been successful thus far. I am also grateful that all my 4 caths have been planned procedures. I would hate to be wheeled into the cath lab in an emergency while having a heart attack. Things would look a lot different then, I am sure. And a lot of people out there find out what a cath is exactly like that. 


Monday, February 11, 2019

"Up and At'em!" - Thoughts on My Third Anniversary Since My Open Heart Surgery


Up and at'em!” - is what my surgeon said to me the day I came out of ICU, two days after my surgery. Three years ago tonight I came out of my open heart surgery with a new mechanical aortic valve, a new aorta, a repaired arch and four bypasses on four major arteries in my heart. About a week from that day, I had a heart attack while laying in my hospital bed waiting to be released.

But two days after the surgery, the surgeon said that once I would leave that hospital the sky will be the limit for me (“It's up and at'em from here on out!” - he said). Well, as those of you who have been through this already know, it takes a lot more work than this to be “up and at'em” again. But also as many of you know, it's not impossible.

I have been so blessed to have three more years added to my life, three years that now, looking back, I am not sure if I would have had, and not sure what they would have looked like if it were not for this surgery. I have had set backs and doubts that my heart is fine, I have felt and will always feel like a permanent heart patient, I still have regular appointments, take drugs and still manage the complications from the surgery daily. But … I have also lived a full life, too. I have worked full time since three months after surgery. I have traveled, I have camped, and climbed mountains, I have played with my nephews, and went on my first cruise. I have seen The Grand Canyon and walked Venice Beach and Sunset Boulevard in LA. I walked the streets of New York City in 100F weather for four days straight and did not pass out.

This past year, I landed back in the cath lab, for my new cardiologist to try to diagnose my angina and shortness of breath. Then, I landed back into cardiac rehab from there, which didn't help much this time around, except for giving me the confidence to exercise, angina and all. But I have had a good third year, too: this past year was the first one when my husband finally “freed” me to travel by myself. I jumped on a plane by myself and went on four business trips, one of them for two weeks all alone. No one to ensure I breathe in the middle of the night, and no one to help me store my luggage in the overhead bin.

What I know for sure now is that the journey is long, but it's so sweet and worth having. Every day that I see the sun, every flower that I see sprouting in my yard every spring, every humming bird that comes and visits our feeder in the summer – I am grateful I get to see it all and enjoy it all. Every morning that I open my eyes and I feel the rise and fall of my breathing chest, every click of the mechanical valve that I hear, I am in awe of how amazing this life and medicine is and how humbled I am that I have benefited from it all. I am amazed at how resilient, we, as a species, are, and how much power to fight and rejuvenate we have.

I am here to tell you that this journey is ultimately so worth taking. I know it can seem daunting if you are coming just now to the edge of what seems to be a bottomless precipice, right before you have to face that cold room where your heart will change forever. But trust me: the desire you have to live and get better, the power and energy you are equipped with to fight through any setback are stronger than any fear you might feel right now. I know you might not see it, but trust me – it's there.

Whether you do it for your kids, or for your significant other, whether you do it for yourself, or your pet, whether you do it so you can have one more taste of your favorite food or to cross those 100 things on your Bucket List, whether you do it just because you're stubborn and want to kick some heart disease butt (like I am), or for those two cute Canadian nephews that you want to see grow up and get married one day (like I did), whatever your reason – know that you will go through it and see your life's dreams come true one day. Just keep at it. Pray. Trust in you and your team and give it all you've got. When you wake up on the other side of that precipice you'll be glad you jumped and the beautiful journey will just then begin!

Nowadays, medicines, doctor appointments, and all, I am happy to be living and to be looking forward to more life. I am glad and grateful that what was once very wrong with me is patched up to the best of our abilities and will allow me to be here, to be present, and to give myself to this life.

After three full years where I have had to re-learn who I am really and I have had to re-learn to be grateful and patient, I am finally able to say that “up and at'em” it is.

Onward, you all! May your journeys be smooth and rewarding. May your gaze be steady and your soul open to receive healing.

For those of you reading here who know me from the Heart Valve Surgery Site (https://www.heart-valve-surgery.com/), happy anniversary to all of you in the 2016 class that supported me and carried me through my darkest days after surgery. Your sharing your stories with me has been a precious gift for which I am forever grateful. I wish all of you, in every stage of recovery and healing, much health and many blessings ahead! And for those of you just beginning: trust and look up! The light is yet to come...


Sunday, April 8, 2018

More Questions than Answers


Sometimes I wonder: “What is purpose of seeking to feel better? Have I not learned that I will never ever feel like I am running on 100% capacity, firing on all cylinders?! My HoFH will continue to do damage, my heart has had a major overhaul AND a heart attack. There is never hope for really feeling truly healthy and truly at full potential, as if I were a healthy person. So what is the point of all the tests and all the interventions that doctors still want to pursue?!”

And then there is this other little voice inside my head that says “Why not?! Medicine is so much more advanced than even 10 years ago. If there are ways, and procedures, and meds, why not seek the best life possible? Why not trust a doctor or two that do believe in the silver lining?!” The trouble with that is all the risks involved, and all the doubt, that despite all the advancement, I still have an unbelievably broken body, which is irremediably damaged for good, and forever, which will never ever run at 100% capacity, even with the best care.

Let me bring this in focus: I met with the second cardiologist since I moved to NC. He struck me as somewhat of a bully, a rushed maniac with a weird passion for treating hearts and somewhat of a bull in the China shop. Definitely not a boring guy! He initially was “guessing” based on what he has heard about my history (mostly from my previous cardiologist's notes) that the biggest problem with my heart is my AI (aortic insufficiency), caused by my (still) leaking aortic valve. Although, just like my previous cardiologist, he could not hear my AI (the leaking), he said the reason my blood pressure sometimes has “no bottom” (or a very low one) is because of the AI. He also guessed that my heart probably has fluid in it because of this and this is why my legs swell up sometimes. He also chalked the shortness of breath, the dizziness and other symptoms of fatigue and slowness to the AI as well.

He recommended a heart echo and then a nuclear stress test. After both were done, he called me and the conversation went into a completely different direction that before. He said “according to your echo, your heart is good.” That's it! He didn't say why, and he did not mention one word about my AI (which he believed to be severe before the echo, just based on the notes he read and on my symptoms). He said nothing about how badly my valve might be leaking, if at all, and whether there is a concern even about the leakage at all.

He, however, spoke a lot about the results of my nuclear stress test: he said when at rest, my heart gets an adequate amount of blood (and oxygen), and the vascularization is appropriate in my entire heart muscle. However, when my pulse raises to even as little as 120 (my goal was to hit 150 beats per minute, but I started getting short of breath and dizzy around 120, so they stopped the test), there is a corner in my heart (lower left ventricle to be exact) that does not receive blood at all. He said it's either a scar from an old heart attack (my MI was localized in the same area he saw on the test), or there is a blockage there that needs to be opened up.

So, his number one concern now is to get to the bottom of this mystery: he now believes that my shortness of breath, my dizziness, and all my other symptoms of fatigue come because of this area of my heart is struggling to work without proper oxygen.

He wants to do a cath next to understand which is the cause: if the cause of the lack of blood in that area of my heart is an old scar from the MI, I am not sure what he can do for that, really. But if the cause if a blockage, he wants to put a stent in to open it up. After which, he wants me (like he said the first time he saw me) “back in rehab”, because the heart has to start working better after the blood flow is opened up. The first time he mentioned rehab to me it sounded bogus, but this makes sense. Not sure what the course of action will be if we're not talking about stenosis but rather some other traumatic damage from my heart attack. He seems to be pretty certain that it's a stenotic spot where maybe a bypass was not done before, or where it was done and it didn't take. (have I mentioned that this doctor guesses a lot?! He does.)

I am, of course, not crazy about a stent, because that can also be a liability (stents can clog, too, with scar tissue). A little voice inside tells me also: “what is the point of all this? Can a stent really make you feel like a normal person? Can any procedure ever make you feel like a normal person? Of course not! So why add more side effects and worries, when you can just cope, like you have done for two years now, since surgery, and for 20+ years now since the first sign of cardiac problems?!” But not doing anything to help beaten heart (no pun intended) sounds just as crazy.

The doctor wants me to come up to the 150 bpm pulse and keep going with no symptoms for at least 15 minutes. But I have had angina before my surgery for years. Now, I have had early fatigue and shortness of breath after just a little bit of walking. Is the goal (for my age and weight, height, etc) of 150 bmp really realistic?! With everything that went on in my heart and with the constant abuse of high cholesterol (which will continue), is it really possible to hit the targets of a normal person?!

The one thing that motivates me to really look for answers and for a possible solution for getting my whole heart irrigated properly is that my symptoms kick in even without extensive exercise. They kick in after speaking for a longer period of time, or when I am nervous about a seminar I am presenting, or speaking in front of a crowd. So, simple things like these make me symptomatic. And to me symptoms means more damage to the heart, inherently. The heart cannot be healthy when it's struggling for air like this, when I do the simplest things. And I don't want it to quit on me when, say, I need to run across an airport dragging luggage during a short layover.

He wanted to do the cath within a week from my test (it's passed already), but personal conflicts for both me and the doctor have postponed this till a month from now. He wants me to increase my Atenolol to ensure my pulse rate stays low. In the meantime, he told me “not to go crazy: no jogging, no hiking steep hills, no pushing heavy carts. Just keep the pulse under 100, he said, or lower, as low as I can.

I am planning to have at least one more office visit with the doc before I go in for the cath, just to ask him all the questions I still have about all the tests he has done and about his overall opinion about my heart: some things that I knew I had from before (like the AI) – how severe are they? Should we worry about them? And also: is my heart ready for a stent?! What is the maintenance we need to consider when that will be implanted? What are the steps to take if I don't need a stent? If my heart is damaged otherwise from the MI, is there any remedy for that? If yes, what is it?! Lots of questions, still, as you can see …

I feel sometimes like trying to see this doctor is worse than trying to get approval for Praluent. You cannot get an appointment sooner than 6 months ahead. Now, because I am somewhat of an acute patient, I had to beg his office assistant (his nurse told me she cannot schedule anyone sooner than what the public calendar shows, and I have to work with his personal assistant) to schedule the appointment at least 2 months after my previous one. When we do meet, he is incredibly rushed and off to the next patient, so I have to really come prepared every time, with written questions to ensure I don't miss anything from what I want to know.

But we do what we have to do to get our answers, don't we?! A busy schedule, a rushed physician, or an inflexible insurance company should not stop us. Here's to resilience! 

I am very worried about what's in my heart, and I am doubly worried that he has little time to really know what's going on. Maybe he's used to this rushed schedule and to him is second nature to run off from one acute case to another … We can only hope …

I wish everyone smooth rides and easy questions. Much health and a beautiful spring, everyone!