So today I got a letter in the mail with a plastic card in it that had all the information about my bioprosthetic heart valve that I have. It had the serial number of the valve and the size and MRI information. I’m supposed to carry that card with me everywhere I go and show it to all my doctors the letter said.

It called it  an implant, which I guess it is. Location: aorta. size 23, whatever that means. Then it has my doctor’s name and the location the valve was done: Houston Methodist Hospital, Dr. Ramchandani—I can’t say enough wonderful about this doctor. He took me on for a surgery that no other surgeon would attempt,  and he did it and it was successful. I am a success story of his for sure, and I won’t ever forget how good he was to me and my family through the whole ordeal. He’s a good doctor and a great surgeon. I’m blessed to have found him. He remembers me for writing ‘racy’ novels. LOL I got such a kick out of that!

I found him through my pulmonologist, Dr. Sahay at the Houston Methodist Lung Center. This doctor is the reason I’m still alive. He caught my stroke when no one else saw it. He got me hooked up with Dr. R for the surgery. His partner Dr. Safdar fought for me to get  my surgery on my ankle when no cardiac anesthetist wanted to take a chance. I would have been left with no ability to walk at all and with pain my whole life in that ankle if they hadn’t done that surgery.

Finding Methodist and in particular the Lung Center at Methodist was such a blessing to me. I’m alive today because I chose to move from UTMB to Methodist and it was the best move I could have made. I honestly believe if I had stayed at UTMB, I’d be dead now.

A right heart cath is the gold standard for diagnosing CTEPH, and UTMB never once did a cath on me, until I asked for it and then it went horribly, leaving me bruised and without getting the needed information. I felt like a truck had run over me. I took pictures of the horrible bruising in case I needed them. The RHC done by Methodist the first time was a breeze in comparison. I’ve had three or four of them now, I lose count these days, and they have all gone smoothly. A world of difference.

I’m glad to be alive. Even if I’m now implanted with a fake heart valve. It’s in place and it’s working. I had a sternotomy, so I have wires inside of me to close up the sternum, and a gnarly looking scar to show for it. I call it my battle scar…. I have several little and not so little battle scars now, but the sternotomy is by far the biggest and most obvious, and yet, it is much smaller than I had feared it would be. It’s still sore sometimes, but it’s only been about 8 weeks since the surgery so I think that’s to be expected. I was told it could take six months to a year to fully heal to the point where it doesn’t bother me at all anymore. I’m well on my way.

I do have a small nickel-sized hole where the steri strips came off but the incision didn’t close all the way. I’ve got home health nursing coming twice a week to do wound care and follow my heart rate and blood pressure and make sure everything is healing well. I’d post a picture of the hole, but I don’t want to gross anyone out…. oh wait, this is a medical blog, personal blog, I can post what I want, right? Try not to look if things like this squick you! (It’s just the bandage,  no wound!)

So that’s where my head is tonight, thinking how glad I am to be alive and also how glad I am that the worst of it all–intubation, collapsed lungs and other life-threatening situations–are all mostly over with and I’m home and building up strength every day.

I’ll carry my card showing my implant proudly (*I need it to get through airport naked body scanners)…. it’s all a sign of my battle scars. Have a listen to the song below. It talks about battle scars. Watch the story. It’s very inspirational.

 

 

 

Love and stuff,

Michy