National Wear Red Day is Friday, February 6. How will you Go Red For Women?

I got the following via email from the American Heart Association:

“With the help of men and women like you, as well as companies and volunteers that support us, we have made a significant impact around the issue of women and heart disease. In fact, in the last six years we have raised awareness of the fact that heart disease is the number one killer of women and also raised over $153 million towards much needed research of cardiovascular disease. However, our work is not done.

“Heart disease is still the No. 1 killer, and there are too many women who are not aware of this disease and the actions they can take to reduce their risk, and as a result are dying at the rate of 1 per minute. It’s Our Hearts. Our Choice. Together we can beat heart disease.

“That’s why this Friday, February 6, hundreds of thousands of people will celebrate National Wear Red Day. It’s the day to wear your favorite red clothes or accessory — a red blouse, a red dress pin, a fabulous red handbag — put on red lipstick, or sport a red tie and red socks. Go red in your own fashion to show your support for women.”

I’ll have my red shirt and AHA baseball cap on tomorrow. What will you do to mark the day and raise awareness?

I spent a couple of hours at the inaugural Health Expo at the Edgewater Conference Center. You can see video from that here:

Lots of nice folks stopped by the table to say hello, pick up a complimetary paper, shake hands, ask questions about the website, or just nod and walk on by. (One fellow got an angio screening just in time, was taken to a doctor and then to the emergency room.)

Spoke with Logan from Clear Channel Radio for a while. Chatted with Tonya from the Social Security office and Rod from Gulf Coast hospital, and saw an old acqaintance from afar but didn’t get a chance to say hi (Hi, Francesca!).

Now I’m off in a few minutes for a checkup. (You may recall from a couple of years ago my travails recovering from a heart attack and triple bypass?) We’ll see what the latest blood test says and get a renewal on the prescriptions.

Meanwhile, take care of yourselves out there.

Peace.

… by doctors at Bay Medical Center two years ago today. Triple bypass surgery just short of age 42. Coronary Artery Bypass Graft or CABG x 3 (”cabbage times three”).

I spent the next year in this space giving periodic if irregular updates of my recovery - things I learned along the way that might be helpful to those who were facing heart surgery or whose family members or friends might be going through it. Cautionary tales. Helpful hints. Painful discoveries.

If you’re interested in backtracking all that, just click on the “Anatomy of a Cabbage” category at the bottom of this post. (Unfortunately, many of the links and photos attached to those earlier blogs were lost when we migrated our system over to a new blog server. Still, the text is there.)

For the record, I’m doing OK. I take meds for cholesterol, blood pressure and blood thinning, hit the walking track regularly, go to checkups as scheduled, follow a diet (though I must admit to straying on the diet from time to time, such as eating berry-flavored Krispy Kreme goodness recently). I still don’t get enough sleep, but I never have.

People have different responses, longterm, to such events. Some go right back to old habits. Some never give mortality or the meaning of life a second thought. Some salt their red meat. Some go strictly vegetarian and take up yoga. I’m one of those, however, who overthinks everything. In the immediate wake of surgery, I knew life would change - and while internally it has, there are few external markers. I handle stressful situations differently - less bottled up anger - and I have little patience for pettiness. I find I’m amused by things that once would have irritated me, as the things that are important and unimportant became more easily distinguishable. And I still have random moments when I’m overwhelmed by emotion.

Those are responses that I’ve had reinforced by recent family losses, as the universe reminded me this spring that perspective is a painful attribute to gain. 

Well, if you have any questions about life as cabbage, feel free to post them. I’d like to believe my hard-gained perspective could benefit someone else. I’ll look for the answers if I don’t know them. Meanwhile, take care of yourselves out there.

Peace.

The American Heart Association Heart Support Group is having its annual Christmas party on Thursday at noon in the community classroom at HealthPlex, 2935 State 77 (at Baldwin Road).

The support group is open to any cardiac patient and their loved ones/caregivers. It meets on the second Thursday of each month for a luncheon, with guest speakers and light refreshments. This week, members are invited to bring a heart-healthy covered dish or holiday snack to share, and newcomers are invited to see what the group is all about. The entree will be supplied by Bay Medical Center.

Don’t cook? Don’t let that stop you. There are shared experiences out there that would surprise you, friends to make and good food to sample. Spouses and family members are encouraged to attend too. (Information: 769-3070.)

My first visit to the group was last year at Christmastime, just as I was finishing up cardio rehab at HealthPlex. I haven’t made it to every month’s gathering since then, but I definitely will be there Thursday (unless some big story breaks that I have to participate in covering).

(Here’s a photo of the crew from last Christmas.)

I tend to be the youngest heart patient there, which is a dubious honor if there ever was one. But I also have a lot to learn about living a long and healthy life while dealing with this tricky chest muscle and its arterial tributaries. If you’ve had some trouble with the ticker, or you care for someone who has, then come on out and learn along with us.

 Peace.

A year ago this morning, I was on an operating table at Bay Medical Center having bypass surgery.
For the last time, that’s coronary artery bypass graft. “CABG” (pronounced “cabbage”) for short.
In the past year, I’ve documented some of the milestones and missteps of a typical recovery. Medications, expectations, rehab and so on.
Some regular readers are ready for another topic. Others have written or called to thank me for information and insight. I appreciate both viewpoints. I’m ready for another topic as well, but I want to be of service where I can.
Anyhow, this should be the last in my ongoing cabbage entries. The bottom line is, as a result of surgery, medication, diet change and more exercise, I’m a healthier person today than on the morning of July 17, 2006. My cholesterol and triglycerides are half of what they were back then, and my heart is pumping more blood and doing so easier than before.
(Full disclosure: I’m still working on the diet and exercise thing. Some days I’m better than others. I know I can do better, and I have only myself to blame when I don’t.)
It doesn’t seem like a year to me, though. Time collapsed in those first few months as days and nights flowed together. Weeks passed and all I could do was maybe walk to the end of the driveway and back, then sleep a while. Even going back to work didn’t slow the passage of time; if anything, it speeded things up. Sometimes I feel like I’ve lost a year, like all that was only yesterday.
I’m still feeling aches in the chest (surgery recovery, not heart problems), and numbness in the chest and leg where veins were removed and repurposed. Still dealing with a lack of;upper body strength and leg strength. Still working through emotional issues.
My doctors tell me I’m doing fine, that all of these things are to be expected. I tend to believe them. For example,;I don’t have to see my cardiologist again this calendar year — how about that?
What I’m trying to accomplish here is closure for the topic, as well as giving those who are just entering into this post-op world (because they’re having CABG surgery or because they’re the caregiver of a CABG) an idea of what they have ahead of them.
If you need more information, or want to talk about what you’re facing or have faced, email me at tsimmons@pcnh.com
If you’ve had enough of this whole CABG documentary, then breathe easier. It’s mostly over, barring something unforeseen or a Heart Association event to promote.;(And skip this Sunday’s “Undercurrents” column in the Lifestyle section, where I plan to do a print version of this column, albeit with a different approach.)
But if you missed previous entries and would like to read more, here’s a set of links:
Anatomy of a Cabbage
How’s this for post-surgical pillow talk?
Anatomy of a Cabbage 2
Anatomy of a Cabbage 3
Things to know if you decide to have a heart attack
Anatomy of a Cabbage 4
After casts clear light on Before
This one is not for the faint of heart
Anatomy of a Cabbage 5
Starts and stops in a week of loss and memories
Anatomy of a Cabbage 6
Anatomy of a Cabbage 7
Anatomy of a Cabbage 8
Butterflies are free: Taking a break and finding the balance
Places to wear or warm your heart
Anatomy of a Cabbage 9
Art is Life, from any Perspective
A Cabbage at Christmastime
Anatomy of a Cabbage 10
Anatomy of a Cabbage 11
Anatomy of a Cabbage: A new year, a new start, and a cautionary tale
Undercurrents: Suggestions to make the new year easier to face (This one isn’t actually about my recovery, but it does reflect my attempt at crafting a new outlook on life.)
Anatomy of a Cabbage: Six Months Later;(This was a blog entry that led to an altered version as that week’s column: Anatomy of a Cabbage (Six months on)
‘This is Your Conscience Speaking’
Start Now
Anatomy of a Cabbage (???)
(The Undercurrents Online;index page offers lots of other topics, so feel free to explore there as well.)
Meanwhile, take care of yourself out there.
Peace.

OK, so maybe I’ve written too much about cabbages. Now I’m putting together photo galleries of them.
Click here to view the newest gallery at newsherald.com, “Some Powerful Produce” — which currently houses photos of oversized cabbages.
Of course, my kind of cabbage is the CABG (Cardiac Artery Bypass Graft), commonly called “heart bypass surgery.” Not quite the same thing.
I was told I should submit a photo, but who wants to see that?
On another note: Happy;birthday to Bob Dylan, who was discovered under a cabbage leaf in Minnesota 60 years ago today.
Peace.

“Start!” That’s the new national health movement being spearheaded by the American Heart Association.
It calls on all Americans and their employers “to create a culture of physical activity” to help people live longer, healthier lives. According to the AHA, 70 percent of Americans don’t get enough basic exercise, which increases their chances of heart disease and strokes.
The message is simple:
Walk more.
Eat well.
Live longer.
Brisk walking for as little as 30 minutes a day has proven health benefits. The AHA says an hour of exercise results in two additional hours of life expectancy. Unfortunately, that statistic arises out of the fact that Americans lead sedentary lives, working longer hours at less-active jobs.
The AHA also says you can save yourself $500 a year in average health care costs by being more physically active. And employers can save $16 for every $1 spent on promoting health and wellness in the workplace.
To help you track your daily exercise and nutrition, sign up for the online tracker here.;Get monthly tips, expert advice, a personal online fitness tracker and nutrition information.
Start now, and you’ll be ready to participate in the American Heart Association’s Heart Walk 2007, which is scheduled for Friday, Oct. 19, at Pier Park in Panama City Beach.

Time passes. Life goes on.

Six months ago last Wednesday, on July 17, 2006, doctors opened up my chest and rerouted the plumbing around my heart. Triple bypass just short of age 42. I’ve discussed my symptoms, surgery and recovery at great length in these columns and my blog at newsherald.com, and responses continue to amaze me.

There’s the one “Anonymous” who says this information is boring and would like to read more entertainment items. But there have been dozens of readers who said they recognized their own experiences, saw their loved one’s story in mine, better understood what a friend went through, or offered advice. That’s exactly who these pieces are for.

A woman called me at work this week to discuss her husband’s change of attitude since his double bypass. She’s read my entries online and hoped I could advise her. Her husband had always been easy to anger, she said, but now he’s mad all the time. He shouts, he complains, he’s abusive to strangers as well as family. He refuses to go to cardiopulmonary rehab, and he’s stopped taking his prescriptions.

All I could do was offer my sympathies for what he’s putting her through. Anger is part of the grieving process, as is denial. My own passed for the most part, even before the surgery. I accepted the hand I’d been dealt and made up my mind to do whatever it took to get better. We made a point not to discuss the negatives except from the perspective of beating them.

That meant taking prescriptions, changing my diet, increasing exercise and spending time crafting a positive outlook. Letting go of things I couldn’t fix, focusing on things that make life better.

The caller’s husband isn’t ready for that yet. His illness has already defeated him, when all he needs to do to beat it - by making the most of life - is adjust his attitude. She can’t do that for him.

It has to come from the heart, you might say.

One of my uncles used to say we each have allotted to us a given number of breaths. He joked that he tried to breathe only every other time, to make his allotment last twice as long. I say, don’t hold your breath.

You can’t hold your breath and still smell the roses.

… In other news, it was reported this week that scientists minding the “Doomsday Clock” have moved the big hand two minutes closer to midnight. Life goes on.

Peace.

(You can read more about this topic here.)

I had a call on Tuesday from a woman I’d never met. She had read my columns about my recovery from bypass surgery and hoped I could help her understand what her husband was going through.

The call came on the eve of a momentous day for me and my family, as today marks exactly six months since my coronary artery bypass graft (CABG). Six moths prior to the time of her call, I was in a hospital bed at Bay Medical Center, contemplating the possibilites ahead of me. On the one hand, it’s a “routine” operation. On the other hand, any such operation can result in loss of brain function, stroke, or death.

I had to decide if this was something I would fear or an inevitability I would accept. I settled on ac-ceptance, decided not to talk about the worst that could happen, and took a sleeping aid the night before the operation.

Six months ago this morning, a talented surgeon carved my chest like a Thanksgiving turkey; cracked my ribs apart with a big ol’ meathook; stopped my heart and pumped my blood through a filtering machine; cut loose some perfectly good veins (including one from my leg) and added them onto my three most-clogged pipes to increase the blood flow; wired my ribs back together; glued my skin shut; and put me in a room to heal.

They even had a machine that breathed for me while I couldn’t breathe for myself.

My memory of the day goes from waking up, bathing in betadyne or some such antiseptic, and be-ing wheeled to the prep room, where a woman with a razor started shaving me, starting at the feet and working her way up. I don’t recall anything past the knees. (See this blog entry for more.)

My next memory are the voices in the recovery room (see this blog).

It was a scary, painful, mentally excruciating, emotionally draining time, during which I surren-dered any number of illusions about this life along with my “personal space.” The intervening six months have been quite an experience as well.

The woman who called on Tuesday said her husband had stopped taking his medicine. He refused to go to cardio-pulmonary rehab. He was angry at everyone and everything to the point of being abusive. She was frightened for him, but feared that she would have to leave him in order to save herself.

It reminded me of my own fears afte the surgery. But I had an incredible support system in the form of my wife and my family. And I had determined before the surgery that I would do whatever they told me to increase my longevity and post-CABG quality of life.

I told the caller that I had been lucky - my anger has not been a problem. It comes and goes, but is usually based on my own frustration with the limitations I’ve had to endure during recovery. More problematic for me has been fits of depression or sudden inexplicable waves of deep emotion. Every-one deals with trauma in a different fashion, and this is all part of the grieving process