Heart Attack - The Operation

                           

It was early, about six in the morning. I was the first operation scheduled with my surgeon for the day.

I was happy, albeit apprehensive.

They rolled me out of my room down the hall through a labyrinth of hallways until I arrived at the pre-op room. On my way to the pre-op room the thought that came to my mind was the 2%. “What 2% are you talking about?” you might  ask.

My heart surgeon had said I had a 98% survivability rate, which meant that I had a 2% chance of dying. You might think, “Wow, that is extremely negative. You should have been holding on to the 98%, not worrying about the 2%.” If you are prepared for the worst, the best is easy to handle.

With unusual clarity I remember asking myself, “Are you ready to die?” What I was really asking was, “Am I sure of what I have believed in for the past thirty years? Have I done everything I could to be assured of my salvation?” It is amazing how quickly your mind can process a vast range of emotions, ideas, concepts and conclusions. If I were to write every thought that went through my mind on that short ride from my hospital room to surgery pre-op, it would take volumes, yet my mind sifted out all of the superfluous stuff and came up with the answer.

I asked myself what are the core beliefs in Christianity that assured salvation. First, “Do I believe that Jesus Christ is who he said he was - the actual Son of God, the child born to a virgin by the intervention of God the Father?” Yes, I did. As such, he is God himself. “Do I believe that he died and more importantly that he was he resurrected as stated biblically?” Yes, I do. Without the resurrection, Jesus becomes of no account. And: “Do I believe that his death makes it possible for me to someday share my existence with him in heaven?” Yes, I did. His death was the price that had to be paid for my forgiveness.

The answer to my question was answered; I was at peace. I was assured that if I were to die as a result of this operation I would spend eternity with God. No fear.

No one is afraid of dying. However there are people afraid of the unknown. By that I mean that people that are not sure of what happens after death and they fear a judgment day. If you were assured of the life that exists after death and that you can participate in it, you would not fear death.

If you are an evolutionist and believe there is nothing after death, you also should not fear death. After all, there might be a little pain maybe and then nothing.

The evolutionist has nothing to fear; the Christian has something to celebrate.

Physically, I was not doing so well, but spiritually and emotionally I was secure and ready. If I would have died I would have won; If I survived I would be blessed. Either way I win.

The pre-op was a large room with six to eight bed stations where patients would be prepped for surgery. From the architecture and the wear on the walls you could tell it was in the old part of the hospital.

For what appeared to be the millionth time they asked me for my birth date and asked me what was going to happen to me. I guess they wanted to make sure I was who they were expecting. The nurses again hooked me up to monitors that would keep an eye on my present condition. The nurses once again attached leads to my chest. This had become like waxing; every time they want to hook up a new monitor it was new leads. Wax on, wax off. It was painful. There were two nurses and they went about their business professionally and efficiently. They gave me medications to relax me.

A short time later the anesthesiologist came in and introduced himself, asked me a few questions, explained what was about to happen and then disappeared. I can not remember him or what he said. I was prepped and waiting. I was concerned that something might occur and the operation would be postponed again. Nothing happened and in short order they rolled me into the operating room. This room was larger by far than I expected; there were already four or five people in the room. What the nurses had given me made me groggy. I remember a lot of equipment; a couple of the people introduced themselves, but I don’t remember what they said. They moved me from the gurney to a table; it was as thin as the table they put me on the first night. They hooked me up to all of the monitors and made the final preparations to begin.  The anesthesiologist came over told me they were ready to begin and that within a few moments I would be asleep. I remember looking at him and then everything disappeared.

The next thing I vaguely remember is walking down the hallway with my heart shaped pillow and the rehabilitation nurse watching as I walked a short distance down the hall.

They tell, me my family that is, that I did this with the rehab nurse for a couple of days. They told me that I was doing so well that they were talking about sending me home.

I remember one morning I was alone in the room and I became aware of all the people that were praying for me. I knew that my church was praying for me and I knew my family was praying for me, but I could feel the prayers of a multitude of people and I could sense it. It was as if God was saying, “You have a lot of people praying for you and I hear them.” That moment probably more than any other gave me peace; I knew I was in God’s hands and regardless of the outcome I would be alright.

The next thing I remember thinking is, “I need to go to the bathroom for a bowel movement.” I had a bowel movement; it felt like water. Not diarrhea, just water. I got up, looked into the toilet and immediately realized what it was. It was blood; I was bleeding internally, it was a lot of blood. It had a purplish hue to it. Why I did what I did next I don’t know, but I flushed it. I came out of the bathroom and told my wife; the first thing she did was look into the toilet, but it was gone. We immediately told the nurse; the first thing she did was look into the toilet. After I explained to her what happened it was decided that they would put a scope up my nose, down my throat and into my stomach to see if the blood was coming from my stomach. Of all the procedures they did on me, this was the most displeasing. There was not any blood in my stomach. Next step would be a colonoscopy.  However, everything that happened after the scope I have no recollection of. For approximately two weeks I was having hallucinations from the drugs they administered to keep me unconscious.