I couldnt decide if I was going to post this, so I ran it past Leah and decided to go ahead. Smokers: if you love someone, quit smoking. There is a term that I use and hear way too often and have come to realize that we use it to keep thinking “that can’t happen to me”. That term is “Lucky”. I said it Wednesday at the hospital, Joe was really lucky. Saying that my uncle is lucky is like saying that the Eiffel Tower is neat. Both are true, but neither captures what went into creating what the word is describing. So here you go. I’m going to tell you what “lucky” meant today for a member of my family. If you are not a smoker and don’t want to know what emergency open heart surgery entails, stop reading now. However, if you are a smoker then it does not matter whether or not you want to read what I am about to type because you need to read it… There is absolutely, undoubtedly, no worldly reason that my uncle should have a pulse right now. He should not be alive, but he is, and here is why. First, Joe’s wife, Dahlia, had the wherewithal in a terrifying situation to realize that chewing two aspirin wasn’t going to fix the chest pain and immediately called 911 after he started chewing. Second, in the Lexington area most (all?) ambulances are operated by fire departments. Because of this there was one close by when the call came in and skilled EMTs were able to load Joe up within 5-6 minutes of the phone call and have him to the hospital very quickly. Third, the staff at Saint Joe’s hospital was highly capable and competent, had the appropriate equipment and was prepared to rush him to emergency surgery on arrival. The doctor was an Irish Catholic who prayed with Joe before the surgery but warned Joe and Dahlia that the survival rate for this type of surgery is very low, terrifyingly low. Now, the “lucky” part. An anesthesiologist placed him under general anesthesia, he was intubated (a tube put down his throat) and placed on the ventilator to breath for him. His chest was cut open, and then a saw was used to cut his sternum in half. Special surgical tools that look like large rakes were then used to separate the sternum and hold his chest cavity open so that the surgeon could operate. The bleed was coming from an aneurysm in his aorta, but his entire aorta was dissecting (the inner wall was torn allowing blood to enter between the inner and outer walls and separate them, potentially causing rupture). A Cardiopulmonary Bypass machine was used to oxygenate his blood at this point. This means that his aorta (largest artery in the body) and vena cava (large veins that return blood to the heart) were detached from the heart. Hoses are normally connected to these vessels and your blood is pumped by/through a machine and your heart is stopped. Now is the interesting part: Joe needed a functional aorta. The surgeon would graft one in the OR, but in order to attach it, circulation had to stop. In order to do this, patients are (for lack of a better word) chilled. Joe’s temperature was reduced to 30 degrees C, or 86 degrees F and his circulation was halted. It took 33 minutes to graft and attach the new aorta. For all intents and purposes he was dead for 33 minutes today. He spent 2.29% of his day deceased. The vessels are reattached, the heart is restarted, the sternum is closed using stainless steel wires (think attaching chainlink fence to posts) and he is slowly warmed. For a short time, when he breaths deeply or coughs he will not only feel, but hear his sternum rubbing against itself where it was cut. Today, because everything came together perfectly, the stars and planets aligned and everyone was where they needed to be when they needed to be there, the patient survived. That was not luck. If you continue to smoke, you will one day need some of that luck. Don’t put yourself through that, but more importantly don’t put the ones you love through it.
Posted on: Thu, 22 Jan 2015 03:23:29 +0000