My apologies from the start on a rather long story. I have tried to keep it as brief as possible and still relate it accurately.

I was August 4th 2011 that due to suffering from some persistent neck and chest pain I went into my doctor’s office for some tests. Very quickly the doctor determined I needed to go immediately into the hospital for more thorough tests. Within hours I was being prepped for a surgical procedure called an angiogram.

I was stunned. All my life I had been an avid athlete, martial artist and body builder. Eating very healthy even as a teenage (late 1960’s and early 70’s). I did have a family history of heart problems but that didn’t concern me to much as they all lived rather unhealthy life styles. My recent blood tests did show my cholesterol was high but I was able to get it down through natural supplements and by going on a semi vegetarian diet.

Back to the hospital…. The angiogram showed some very severe coronary artery blockage (one artery was 99% closed). I would require immediate open-heart, coronary by-pass surgery. Five hours later, I had five grafts put in.

Post surgery, the first 48 hours I seemed to be recovering very well. Then day three I developed these terrible diaphragm spasms, severe hiccups that would not go away. These were very painful on my newly opened chest. My surgeon had left, literally hours after my surgery, to go on vacation and he had apparently left me in the care of his ”team”.

The fever got worse. The spasms got so bad they had to sedate me. They ran blood test after blood test, which showed nothing. This went on for 10 days! The sedation I was on was so bad I requested I be taken off of it, as I would rather suffer the spasms than the effects of the drugs. My surgeon finally returned from his vacation and it was on this day that my chest incision literally broke open at the staples and a mass of purulent matter (puss) oozed out all over my chest. There was so much matter that I thought I had spilled my beverage on the front of my hospital gown.

From this point I remember very little. I was rushed down to OR for immediate surgery.

The next thing I was aware of was about 14 days later; I was in ICU (intensive care unit) gradually being brought out of a medically induced coma. Over the next few weeks I was told little bits of information of what had all occurred over the past two weeks.

I had developed a massive infection in my chest cavity, most likely from an operating instrument, because I was closed up with it in my chest. The infection required twice-daily operations for the next 10 days to rinse and clean out the chest cavity from the diaphragm up under the sternum and all throughout the pericardial space area. After the cleanings I would be packed with antibiotic soaked gauze and then partially closed till the next cleaning. It was during this time one of my new by-pass grafts blew out and I was taken back down to OR for another by-pass surgical procedure.

After two weeks of cleaning they had to close up my chest and hope for the best. Because of the infection’s damage to my sternum bone they could not wire it shut again, as in normal cardiothoracic surgeries, so the sternum bone was left open and to protect my open chest area my pectoral muscles were detached from the sternum bone as well as the rig cage, all the way up to my axial (armpit), and the pectoral muscles were then sewn together in the front covering the open sternum bone. The procedure is called, bilateral pectoralis advancement flaps.

My recovery was very slow with many, many setbacks. My arms and legs had been tied down to my bed during this long time of surgery I also had a breathing tube down my throat because I had apparently stopped breathing at some point. I was not moved very much so I developed nasty pressure sores as well as numerous blood clots in my legs and arms. I had also developed quite a bit of fluid in my lungs. This was later drained; I had an infection but no pneumonia thank the good Lord! I was near death numerous times; my own personal doctor said later that they did not think I was going to make it because of the severity of all that had hit me and for so long.

As I mentioned the recovery was very slow, I was not able to talk due to the tube down my throat. All my muscles had severely atrophied due to being tied down for so long. Not only was I unable to write a message but I could not even point to an alphabet tablet. By profession I’m an artist, I had painted and drawn intricately detailed portraits of people and animals and now I could not even hold a pencil in my hand.

Eventually the breathing tube was taken out and slowly I got my voice back, what a wonderful thing to be able to talk once more! Standing and walking was another big new task. I had gone from a strong, very athletic 58 year old, at close to 200 pounds of lean muscle, to a 158 pound “80 year old man” who could not even stand on his own power. Looking back now I was in too much shock to really take it all in, plus I was still recovery from all the drugs which kept me asleep and pain free, to really realize what had happened to me.

37 days from the day I check into the hospital I finally went home. I still had numerous tubes in my chest as well as an IV in my biceps. For the next month I had to drain my own tubes and give my own IV meds.

Going back a little-- the doctors told me that because of the chest altering procedure they had to do on me, which they said was to save my life; I would not be able to lift any more than 10 pounds with my arms. My pectoral muscles, no longer being attached to bone, were, for all intents and purposes, a non-functional muscle group now.

My physical recovery has been slow but I have been very determined to heal and get back to some from of normality. My emotional recovery has been up and down. Dealing with these past months has been a real challenge. Now I seem to be going through a new phase of anger, frustration and depression. Anger with the negligence, which caused the whole thing. Frustration with not being able to do anything about it. And anger again with having been sent the bill for the hospital’s error and damage repair. And depression with what they have left me to live with.

Now I find it hard, if not impossible, to work and function normally. Ironically, the very word “normal” means little to me at this point… what exactly is normal for me now? I used to know; now I have no clue what normal is.

I have not had any nightmares of my occurrence; I seem to sleep okay, though I do wake up every hour or so and can only sleep flat on my back. My “nightmares” happen, ironically, during the day. It is then that I see the images and incidents so clearly and that is why daily work has become so difficult.

This story has become so long I do need to end my writing, I have tried to tell it briefly. So much that has been left unsaid but the important points have been covered.

My most sincere thank you to anyone who has read this far! Though I don’t know you, in my heart I love you for it. The most important thing form me now, it seems, is to simply be heard, to talk. I feel like the more my story is told the more it becomes diluted, lessened.

With the most kindest regards,
Renaissance Artist