A Year Later...

Today is the one year mark facing my mortality. So many details, bargains, and epiphanies from this past year I honestly could not fit them all into a week worth's of posts. So I hope to keep this as short as possible...

One year ago today, I contracted an unknown virus (doctors could never pinpoint the exact virus) that decided to take up residency and attack the muscle walls of my heart. The virus created so much inflammation it mimicked a heart attack. Thankfully I did not have to face the dead tissue of a heart attack, but I surely experienced the same pain. Four "heart attack-like" episodes later, I was put up into infectious isolation for a week. Cardiologist told me he never saw "[my] kind of numbers before, even in people who suffer from congestive heart failure." After a week, I was discharged with endless medications and parting wish of "things might get better, hopefully in six to twelve months, but honestly we cannot be certain." Go big or go home, right?

Almost two months of being completely bed ridden from the pain, having no level of energy, unable to breathe, and honestly lack of willpower, I was utterly defeated. Cannot begin to count how many times I had to ask my roommate to open my pill bottles/containers because I had no strength to do so. I tried to go back to work, mainly because after two months I could not afford laying around anymore, but I still faced a lot of problems. I would get tired easily, extremely winded, and only had the strength to stand and walk. It seemed it would take forever to get back to my normal self. Living in constant fear and agony of my heart giving out, and never being able to be among my friends and family again. It was a real fear, guys; more than I care to admit.

The doctors originally gave me a six to twelve month recovery window. One cardiologist told me I was fine three months from being discharged. My current cardiologist gave me more real expectations. Currently my heart is open and clear, and seems to function within normal ranges. But, there is still inflammatory damage lingering; which will take a long time to recover from. My current recovery window is roughly three to four years.

To lay it out there, I live in constant pain every day. It feels like there is a swiveling fork in my chest. I have learned to manage living with the pain. Usually it does not greatly mess up my daily life. There are a few occasions where the pain is more prominent then it usually is. I just have to deal with it, as bad as it is. I know this will take a great deal of time. So in short, on a daily basis I am completely fine guys, I do not need special attention. I just need time...

Bill Watterson illustrates in this C&H strip, you never know when that truck is going to hit you. I would have never guessed that I almost died a few times that week. Or that if I had remained my stubborn self for just one more hour before seeking medical attention, my heart would have basically exploded from beating so fast. Facing your mortality can be extremely depressing. I can admit it was a concern from the doctors for a little bit. But from this year I have had so many people ask me "how can you be so easy-going about what happened, and laugh about it?"

Well frankly, my idiocy and stubbornness of the unwillingness to seek medical attention is pretty funny, and also the many stupid acts I did while on some serious pain killers at the hospital is quite hilarious. But it is more because I know that I AM ALIVE. It is the best thing I could ask for. Yes, I still have ups and downs from the hustles of life, but at the end of the day, I am thrilled I was able to live through it. I have been at the lowest of lows, mentally and physically. I have been scared and inexorable at times. Yet, having the ability to tell my story, the brush with death and my battle with the reaper, is truly a blessing and a miracle.

One year down, hopefully only three more to go!


Fight for a better tomorrow...

The Ever-Approaching Breath of Death

Most of you generally know my recent adventures, or should I say perils, with a recent heart virus (Viral Myocarditis). You can click on the link to learn more about it. Basically I spent a week in the hospital, ICU and Infectious Isolation, going back and forth between 104 degree temperatures and heart attack-like episodes. I can easily mark that week as one of my least fun weeks in my life so far.

Even though my prognosis is very good (so far anyways) there is still a lot of risks and complications I ultimately face. For 6-12 months after the initial diagnosis, I have to limit my physical activity so my heart rate does not go very high. The virus did enough damage to the heart that it will take at least that long to fully recover. I cannot push or exert myself; practically no aerobic exercise. Even going up and down a few flights of stairs can push me to the brink of passing out (actually happened last week). I can quickly feel the pain and loss of energy if I do too much in one day. Within these 6-12 months I could face a heart transplant if the damage cannot be healed, or facing the possibility of sudden death through immediate cardiac arrest. My main long term risk is chronic heart failure. Scary, right?

When someone asks about what happened and how everything is going currently, I generally experience their response of "oh my gosh, that is just horrible" or how do you live like that?!" Yes, not being able to be active and energetic, and basically live life with little work hours and a lot time in bed, I have to develop a lot of patience (which I have learned is my divine lesson). I have had a lot of people express great amounts of worry for the fact that I could pass out at any moment, and it would be the end of my story. I have actually made a living will and some advanced directives in case I am somehow incapacitated. But, in all honestly, I am not afraid of this haunting figure that travels with me for the next year. If it happens, it happens! It is my time to go, and I get the extreme joy of being with my creator. I will get to blast and perform my trumpet for all of the divine creation, sooner rather than later. The possibility my heart could immediately stop is very real...but it is not what is scary for me...

I am a man of faith; a man that has a loving relationship with the Father and Jesus Christ. For people of religion and faith, it is the ultimate gift to spend the rest of eternity in heaven with the Son, the Father and the Holy Ghost. Whatever your background or beliefs may be, I know if I live my life the way God sees it, I shall forever be blessed. Even with this promise, there is small fear of no longer living the life of humanity. Childish and immature, I know, but it is a fear I am fervently trying to put behind me. The fact I could die by cardiac arrest at any day is not unnerving, it is the diminishing time I have left on this earth. Knowing that I may only have 60 or 70 years left of life is more eye-opening than a sudden death for the span of one year. My 25 years of life have been amazing and fulfilling, but also daunting because it seems it has taken only an instant to pass by.

I am not afraid of dying. I am afraid of leaving things behind (still childish, I know, I have a lot of faith to gain in this breadth). I know I will lose a lot, but will gain oodles more if I pass through the Pearly Gates. Even with the gifts that lay before me, I still cannot help myself to fear the deprivation of human life. It might even be the reverence of the quailing end of time. I can only hope that my life is seen as a righteous one in the eyes of my God. Maybe it is the belief I am expecting to possibly die any time through this year, instead of an unexpected day 60 or 70 years down the road. A true beautiful enigma that comes as a part of the human experience.

I would be interested to see where people stand and feel about this kind of mentality. Are you more worried about the expected high chance of withering away in one years time, or a long adventure of esprit that could end in the span of 50-70 years?

Comment and discuss! I would love to know your position.

Fight for a better tomorrow

The Creeping Fear

I am in my third of recovery. Things are getting better, slowly but surely. Pain is still present and I still get exhausted very easily, but I feel more myself every day. It will a week or two before I get some energy back. It will take at least six months before I can do any kind of exercise. With that in mind, I have made some serious changes to my diet so I do not become a Fatty Fatty McFatson. I...have also...finally become afraid. Afraid...

There are several moments from the week that I keep replaying over and over in my head. Walking into the clinic, clenching to my chest, choking out "I need help." Laying in the clinic bed and the doctor is holding my hand as I can hear the change in the tone of her voice. Spending in a week in pain as the doctors figure out why my numbers are so off. Being sent off with a mountain of warnings but ultimately a good prognosis. I am finally afraid, through all the recovery and hope, the fear has finally crept onto me.

To make things clear, I am not afraid of death. Looking back at the few times were I almost was "lost," I was never afraid of death. I am afraid of the unknown. If I were to die, it would have been certain. Things would have been clean-cut, decisive, absolute. Unfortunate I have had the time to sit and/or lay down for a good amount of time and think. If I follow the recovery plan I should not see any long term complications. If things could go badly, I could face a chronic condition; a chronic condition of pain and exhaustion. The grey-area  is what is scary...

One detail I have left out for everyone is that fact I do not have any insurance right now. I have put up a face for some so I could save some worry for people (selfish I know, but I could not help myself). Thanks to a lot of the changes the government is making for healthcare I lost my health insurance at the beginning of the year. Here in the next month I will have insurance again because I finally found a great deal on insurance. Yet it is a funny thing that shortly when I do not have insurance, I go through one of the hardest times in my life. A test, for sure, with an outcome that I have no idea where the direction leads. My hospital bill will probably be close to $200,000. A lot of money to spend in one week, right?

I signed up for a case of charity through the hospital. It has not been approved yet, but I am apparently at the "top of the list." Yet more uncertainty my life is being faced with a test of spirit that I sure hope I do not have to face. I would rather spend $200k on a house or a super amazing car. I am so afraid of the forks in the road, the status of my broken heart, of the way my life might end up at in the next six months to a year.

I know this feeling is not forever. My spirit is not broken, but my mind cannot help to run rampant. I pray for peace and strength, and I am at peace that I know my life, and mind, will be just fine; I am at peace. Yet I am still fearful...I guess that is the beauty of the unknown. It is frightfully...exciting but no where near thrilling.

I will be fine, I have every certainty that I know I will be. This is just a monster in the closet. In time, it will all go away and get better.

Fight for a better tomorrow

The Spirit of the Matter

I am into my third week of illness and confinements of the plushness that is my bed. I can safely say the whole "resting" part of my recovery is getting old; it is for the birds, if you will. I had to return to the hospital this past weekend because my main cardiologist was not returning my calls and I was feeling worse by the hour. In short, the inflammation, caused by the virus, had spread from the muscle walls of the heart to the pericardial sack and a few spots near the sides of my lungs. Lucky me, right?

Well, that question is actually the main point for this post. While I was in the week long stay in the hospital for the initial diagnosis, there was a chaplain on staff for the hospital that came to visit and talk with me every day. An extremely kindhearted, wise Christian man who showed great worry and great promise for my health and stability. He was truly a man of the Word, and I greatly appreciate his companionship. Throughout the week and our encounters he had one question he always asked every day, "how is your spirit today?"

With the multitude of the medical things that were happening to me at the time, I honestly did not dive deep into the question, at the time. Along with that question he would ask if I ever wondered "why me" or "why would You do this?" I would always respond with "nope, I do not wonder the why, I just know this is happening, and I have to and will get through it to the end. I know my savior will help me through it." I honestly do not wonder why this is all happening to me. I firmly believe everything happens for a reason. Every test and every joy we experience is meant for out lives; it is our plan that is already laid out for us.

At the end of my stay, when I was sitting in a wheelchair waiting for my mom to pick me up to take me to my home, that same chaplain was hurrying by, made eye contact with me and yelled out "ah, I caught you before you left!" So he came by, pulled up a nearby chair and we had our last talk before he walked out and helped me into my mother's car. One of his last remarks to me was "I have never met a person with a stronger spirit than you. Thank you so much for letting me spend time with you and getting to know you. I will continue to pray for your recovery." Right there at that moment, I was pretty much speechless. All I could say was "You are truly a gift, thank you. Thank you."

Never met a stronger spirit? No one has ever said anything like that to me; it still resonates within me. I honestly do not know how to "digest" that compliment. There were a couple of times where I was close to passing on to the next world during my week stay in the hospital. Even now, if I do not follow my recovery plan, the virus could damage my heart so badly that I could die in a moment's notice. Yet, it still does not deter my spirit. I know I have gone through some terrible things in my short life already. I have been broken down in absolute shambles, having no idea if I will have a life's breath within the hour. I have learned that even in my darkest times I have never been forsaken, beaten to the point where I can no longer stand. I have always had my God, my Holy Spirit there to help bring me back up. It took a lot of stubbornness and mistakes to learn that, but I know that I am never truly broken down to the point I cannot get back up. I might be given something that can knock me down, but it is never something that inhibits me from getting right back up and fighting once more.

I will probably never understand the purpose for this illness. People have said "oh, it is just God's way of saying 'slow down'." That might be true since I practically live on the edge of my seat and I am always stressed over something. I am always busy and I rarely get to enjoy down time. So those people might be right, but I do not quite see it that way. Talking with that gentleman for the week did open my eyes to a lot of matters in my own life. Things I know I will need to address; things I know that I cannot keep on the back burner for much longer. I do know that one of the main reasons for the strength of spirit is the love and support that I received from family and friends that week. A had a lot of visitors come in even though I was in respiratory isolation, and an overwhelming amount of messages from people that could not visit. I thank those people for building and reinforcing my spirit. It does not waiver because of their love.

I am on the mend, and I have a few more weeks before I will be close to my old self again. I am still not finished with this spirit matter. I feel I might blog on this again soon. Until then, stay healthy my friends. Staying bed all day is not as fun as it sounds!

Fight for a better tomorrow

A Week of Near Death

This past week is been one for the record books...honestly. I can safely say that I was having a few dates with the grim reaper this past week. Today I was just released from the hospital after a week's stay in the Cardiac ICU and Cardiac Intermediate Care wing. I am here to tell the story of everything (well maybe not everything) that happened this past week:

Saturday night/Sunday morning around 1:00am I had returned home from a very long work day with an extreme headache and nausea. I was just flat out sore and tired, and I attributed the feelings of dismay to my recent Post Concussion Syndrome diagnosis from right before Thanksgiving. I readily and willingly climbed into bed in hopes to rest off the bad feelings. As the night and hours staggered on, my headache and an approaching fever were now getting the best of me. Tossing and turning, not able to sleep, I finally got out of bed around 4:00am to find some Tylenol and hopefully some cold/flu medicine so I could just whack this in the butt and be healthy by morning. Well as soon as I started to move around, I immediately felt worse. Dizzy, extremely nauseous, pounding headache, and facing the rim of a volcano in terms of my body heat, I had no medicine so I made the choice to go to the local Walmart. Right before I left, I took my temperature...a nice fever of 104 degrees Fahrenheit. Yes, it is high, but still not the end of the world right? Well not really...I run a usual body temp of slightly above 95 degrees. Weird I know, but I have always been that way. Trying to get a temperature in middle school was never fun. No one ever believed I was sick and practically dying with a 99.1 temperature.

Anyways, with a crazy high fever, and only a few degrees away from my brain melting, I called my mother so she could stay on the line while I drove to Walmart to get meds, just in case I passed out from the exertion and high fever. I did make it back home...barely. I immediately took some Tylenol and Nyquil and laid down to sleep. I had woken up around 8:30am on that same Sunday morning, with extreme chest pains. I was rolling around back and forth, in serious pain. I had figured maybe I took too much of the medicine. So I got up and started to walk around to see if the pain would subside. Five minutes later the pain got worse; much, much worse, and to top it all off I was starting to get short of breath. Fearing some serious complications I finally got myself in the car at 8:40am and drove myself to the nearest Urgent Care Center, where they know me pretty well. I walked into the Urgent Care with my hand on my chest. The receptionist nurse recognized me and immediately saw I was not well. I was literally as white as paper, hand clutching my chest, sweating and crying. The only thing I could choke out to say through the pain and tears was "I need help." I was taken back immediately and my hospitalized journey began.

The Urgent Care center called an ambulance to take me to the hospital because every sign pointed to me having a heart attack. The urgent care, EMTs, and the ER staff, that I was taken to, all concurred with the blood work and EKGs, and diagnosed me with a massive heart attack. Troponin, one of the key enzymes of heart muscle function had climbed to a ridiculous high of 28ug. A normal measure of Troponin is around 0.05ug. A usual heart attack is measured at a start of 2ug. Mine went up to 28ug. Not even people with congestive heart failure reach numbers that high on a regular basis. At a healthy status of 25 years old, you can safely say everyone was worried. Worried that I was soon to die. I was immediately taken into the heart catheter lab to open up any blockages my heart was bound to have. As soon as they got inside, they saw that my heart was open and clear. So, why would my heart show numbers well beyond a routine massive heart attack but have no blockages? The doctors were actually stumped. I was facing the pain from a heart attack but not receiving the damage from it.

To make this story end quickly, the doctors diagnosed me with Viral Myocarditis, a virus that causes extreme inflammation of the heart muscle. A condition that is mainly seen in elderly people, not young adults. They are unsure about the exact virus that invaded, but they believe it to be the Influenza Virus. Even though every flu test came back negative, they were certain it was the flu. I spent a week going through several tests, several medications, and a roller coaster ride of fevers. I was there for a week in isolation because they did not know what I was infected with. I had a total of four episodes of the "heart attack-like" pain. One is extremely painful and most do not come back from it. I had four, I am the lucky one.

I will blog more about the antics of the heavy narcotics and delirious fevers resulting in calling one of my doctors Gonzo (the muppet), blaming the nursing staff of stealing my shoes, and several days of show tune singing. They are some seriously funny and embarrassing stories. I have already said too much here, so I will save the rest for later. I will also blog on the whole spirit of the matter. I was visited by a chaplain every day because of what I was facing.

Folks, I almost died a few times, it truly is scary. Never take this life for granted.

I will return shortly...

Fight for a better tomorrow

The Milestones

Still in this "thought driven rut," I came across this certain little detail that seems to drive my life forward. Even when I do not want to go forward or not, these milestones keep barreling through time with no end to them at all...

Just to jump right into it, my life has clearly been made up of certain and distinct milestones that I have both feared and revered. I am sure many people could relate to this because I feel that we all have certain goals that we have set through our lives. Yet for me, I can clearly remember a lot of the details of these milestones.

In kindergarten I remember not wanting to go up to 1st grade because I would miss nap time too much. I so looked forward to the day that I went up to 5th grade from 4th. I thought those kids were so old and so cool (man I was naive). Going up to the middle school, thinking I will finally become someone older and more respected (man I was still dumb). Then moving on up to the high school were the glory days would begin. Fighting to get my license, fighting to get out of the house, fighting to get a job. Moving away to college and really trying to make a name for myself at that point. Now trying to gain respect through my big boy job.

Each time there is a certain hump that I always to have to face, good and evil. No longer can I let my imagination run wild and kapwinngg away in my fantasy. I no longer will have my scheduled nap times and play time on the swings. I need to progress forward to my next hump in the travels of life.

Fight for a better tomorrow

Brains

My brain:

Severely complex, non-stop, overly critical, friend and enemy. 

There are certain things in my life that really bring me to convene inside of myself. One certain thing happened tonight. I will not go into detail on exactly it is, because I do not want to give out the pathetic sob story it ultimately is. But no matter what, I am in constant war with my own self. 

More and more, I am noticing nervous habits that seem to get worse as time passes by. I catch my body trying to fight its way through the gunk of thoughts my brain is trying to process. I catch myself literally talking and arguing with myself to sort for an answer. I honestly wish I could let my brain run free so that I would not have to be tortured by this continuous thought. 

Am I insane? Indubitably. Well I would honestly believe so. I would like to think that I am a very smart person, but there are times that I honestly wish I was not so enlightened, if you will. For in ignorance there surely is bliss. I honestly believe in this statement. It is an "out of sight, out of mind" principle for me. If I ultimately do not know about something, my brain is free from trying to analyze it. 

I am a very detailed person. I have been told I am an "observer." I sit back and try to figure out each detail to life, and how those details interact and how they affect one another. I systematically break everything down and find each detail. It is tedious and plaguing. 

I am ready to be out of my own mind for awhile. I hate what all this thought does to me. 

Fight for a better tomorrow