Brian's Photos

Hello, friends.

Yesterday marks the six-month anniversary of my aortic aneurysm repair and valve replacement. I thought I'd give an update, especially for any of you that may be at the start of your heart journey and are filled with anxiety about the unknown, as I was.

Spoiler alert: while it was a difficult recovery at the start, it got so, so much better. I'll tell you about it, along with a couple of truths I've learned.

The first month was, as I have journaled here, not great. Less than a week after returning home, I had to be re-hospitalized with a pericardial effusion and aFib. The fluid in the sac around my heart needed to be drained, and my heart brought back into rhythm. My lowest moment was two days before my heart converted back to normal: I recall holding on to my wife Mary on the end of the bed, sobbing. I was convinced my life moving forward would be a limited one, lurching from one complication to the next. My doctors were outstanding the whole way, explaining that complications were to be expected. Before I was discharged, I asked my attending physician what kind of recovery I could expect. I still remember is exact words: "your recovery will depend upon your activity." That, folks, is truth #1.

Truth number 2 is comes from Marc Wallace's book "Back to Life after a Heart Crisis." In it, he details an eight-point plan for getting back to being you. Step 8 is to "Train for a Huge Physical Challenge." Activity towards a defined, committed goal is always more effective than movement for movement's sake. After talking to my family and my doctors, I developed a two-phase plan to get back to the two hobbies I loved: theatre and baseball.

I was already committed to a role in "Sweeney Todd," but I learned during recovery that auditions were coming up for "The Producers," a musical adapted from Mel Brooks' first film. People, I LOVE this story. I've loved it since I was 19 years old and came across the original 1967 film in a directing class. So even though I was committed to one performance, I auditioned with the hope that both companies could make their rehearsal schedules work to accommodate me. Lo and behold, I was cast in the lead role of Max. My huge physical challenge was in place.

I started rehearsals for both productions at roughly the same time. In the beginning, I was still taking a lot of medications resulting from my aFib and effusion issues: anti-arrhythmia meds, anti-inflammatories, blood thinners, beta blockers - pretty much the whole spectrum of post-surgery prescriptions. They made rehearsing somewhat difficult; for example, if scene choreography required me to rapidly cross a stage, I'd get very light-headed and found singing immediately afterwards a challenge. But eventually I was told to discontinue the heavier doses, and the issue resolved itself.

On September 6, five months and four days after surgery, "The Producers" opened. We ran 8 performances in two weeks, including double-shows on Saturdays. It was glorious. One reviewer commented on my performance that "if you need to test Ruff's stamina, he delivers tenfold."

This weekend, "Sweeney Todd" completes its final weekend, where I will play Judge Turpin two more times. In the programs of both shows, I dedicated my performance to my health care team and my family.

Phase 1 of recovery is finished. It was hard, but so worth it. With the exception of the occasional soreness in the sternum, everything is back to normal. Scratch that - it's better. My ability to hold a note while singing is significantly better than before. Training for musical theatre has left me more flexible and with better core strength than prior to surgery.

This coming Monday, phase 2 starts - training to get back to playing baseball. I'm not sure how that will go. Despite having a rebuilt engine, I'm still carrying around a 52 year-old chassis, complete with a worn-out throwing shoulder. Regardless, we'll find out.

This was a much longer update than I expected, but if you've read this far, I hope all is well with you, and if you are indeed one of those folks at the start of the long road that is recovering from a heart crisis, please know that I was terrified at the beginning, despondent a month afterwards, but was ultimately saved by three things: activity, having a goal, and being surrounded by people who believed I could accomplish it.

May you find your activity, your why, and your people - and nothing can stop you.

Ten weeks post-op as of today.

Rehab is in full swing. Starting to do some light intervals on the treadmill where I alternate between fast walking and light jogging. I'm sore the next morning, but man, does it feel good to be sore again.

When I was preparing for surgery, I read Marc Wallace's "Back to Life after a Heart Crisis." (A book I highly recommend.) Wallace, himself a physician, chronicled his surgical recovery and developed an eight-point plan for getting back to himself.

Step 8 is to "Train for a Huge Physical Challenge." Per Wallace: "I will challenge you to do something truly amazing, something that proves to you, and others around you, that you are back and better than ever. I’ll challenge you to take on a major physical accomplishment such as a walkathon, endurance cycling event, mountain climb, long-distance bike ride, hike on the Appalachian Trail, or another symbolic feat."

Well... I found mine. Or, more specifically, BOTH of mine. I already knew I needed to prepare for performing as Judge Turpin in "Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street," which opens at the end of September. That will now be my SECOND show of the Fall - starting next week, I will also be prepping to play Max Bialystock in "The Producers," opening at the beginning of September. I'm psyched for both, but the chance to play Max felt like fate - I have adored Mel Brooks' first film since I was a child, and the musical version used to be something I played while dancing with my infant daughter in our apartment in the early 2000s.

I'll keep y'all posted on how it's going. Two joyous mountains to climb. LFG.

Eight weeks post-op as of today. First full day back at work. Fortunate that my commute is about twenty steps from my bedroom to my home office.

How am I? If you're of a certain age, you're probably familiar with the scene in "The Empire Strikes Back" when Luke cuts short his training with Yoda to save his friends and confront Darth Vader before he's ready. Before he departs, the spirit of Obi-Wan Kenobi says "this is a dangerous time for you... when you will be tempted by the dark side."

That's me today - sitting in a dangerous time. I feel... eighty percent? Good enough that I'm tempted to get on the floor and try a few push-ups. (I'm not going to. I like my sternum in one piece.) Good enough to mindlessly grab a second cup of coffee before my next meeting, or a cocktail at five. Not doing either of those, but the instinct is still there.

Lately, my six-word mantra is: "Have patience; you are still alive." Independence Day comes early this year - my physical restrictions end July 2nd. Three big goals wait: be useful in my personal and professional life, get back on stage, and get back on the baseball field. All in due time. I'm working on the first today, the second by September, and the last by next year.

Patience, patience, patience.

6 weeks post-op as of today. Went for a 2-mile walk for cardiac rehab, which considering I live in MD and it is May required walking in the rain (hence the face).


One question and one random observation.

My question: now that my sternum is noticeably healing, I'm starting to notice that it appears to be healing... unevenly? My left side is much more sore than my right. Anybody else get a sense their sternum didn't heal symmetrically?

Observation: I think OHS survivors all retain one privilege: we don’t hurry anymore. Want to make me laugh? Tell me to hurry up.

When I hear “hurry,” my brain translates it to “go at a speed you’ll mess up whatever you’re doing!” Maybe it’s being on a heart-lung machine; maybe age, maybe it's only being six weeks in. But hurrying ain’t a club in my bag anymore.


It’s like in baseball when a player “hurried the throw” - probably an error.

Hope all is well in your world.

Four weeks post-op as of today.

I'm cautiously optimistic. The further away in time I move from my complications after coming home (pericardial effusion and aFib), the more comfortable I'm becoming with the idea that the woods are behind me - or that I'm at least on the edge of them.

What's missing now is confidence. I feel as though I'm still learning how this newly rebuilt engine works. I take it out for walks every day, trying different speeds, watching my Apple Watch as I go. The distances I'm traveling are vastly improved from coming home, but pushing for a faster pace often greets me with resistance, either from the medications or the recovery; not sure which. I'm chomping at the bit to get into cardiac rehab so I can learn more and move with some coaching and a degree of safety.

That's all for now. Still here. So are you. Still all that matters.

Three weeks post-op today. Out to lunch with the missus, whom is well on her way to sainthood.

We grabbed lunch, did some shopping and grabbed a long walk, which was easier than yesterday. Little pieces of normal are coming back. I hope and pray I can savor each one of them for the rest of my days.

Now 19 Days post-op. One of the stronger days so far. After coming home from the pericardial effusion and aFib, I'm beginning to feel for the first time like I can take a full breath again. I never thought I would enjoy taking a deep breath as much as I do today.

Two other small victories: getting a haircut, and helping my wife grocery shop in addition to the normally prescribed daily walks. It was a day of enjoying the little things. And for quietly praying the complications have stopped.

Hope all is well in your corner. We're here, and that's what matters.

Recovery week one is in the books. My wife (Mary) and I have fallen into a schedule:

Up and mediations/breakfast/decaf coffee at 9am. Walks at the top of most hours, followed by spirometer work at 20 past and deep breathing/coughing exercises at 40 past. We try to eat 4-5 small meals, one of which for me is usually a protein shake. Appetite is improving slightly, walks are down to the end of the block and back. Evening meds at 9, bedtime at 9:30. Not going to lie - sleep is tough. I'm a side sleeper, and trying to retrain your body to sleep on your back just doesn't happen overnight.

Something about which no one told us that maybe I can spare someone anxiety by putting down here: You have to move in some form or another every 45 minutes (during non-bedtime hours). Your body receives all kinds of fluids during open heart surgery, and if you don't move regularly things can get... weird. Hands and feet appear mottled. Also, your heart beats faster and your BP can drop. Stay still too long, and you look and feel like garbage. Move regularly, and things get closer to looking and feeling better. I try to sleep, but if I'm awake I'll do a few laps downstairs, stretch my back, and try to sleep again. Repeat.

More soon. Hope everyone is well.

Recovery Day 5. Good things:

1. Thinking much more clearly than expected.
2. Energy levels for walking are good.
3. Pain is not nearly as bad as expected (although this can rapidly change if I move incorrectly).
4. I’ve been home for over 12 hours and my dog refuses to leave my side. It moves me to tears, unless he thinks I can resume my walking/distributor of treats duties, which is unavoidable. He’s a dog.
5. Family and friends have been rocks.

Expected Difficulties:

1. I am epically backed up. Bowels are moving, but only producing gas. I have been Dutch-ovening my entire downstairs. Sorry for that image.
2. My appetite sucks. I’ve lost 10 pounds in a week.
3. Soreness and aching are presenting a real problem for sleeping. Even with spending the night in a power recliner, I slept 2 hours tops. Counting the days to being a side sleeper again.

Unexpected difficulties:

1. It’s hard to regulate my body temperature for some reason. I’ve been running hot and cold. A cup of coffee this morning gave me the sweats.
2. This seems to be going away, but fingers on my left hand would look bruised and go numb. Shifting positions helps.
3. My knees are killing me. There are lots of causes possible here, so it’s more annoying than alarming.

Hope all is well in your corner of life. We’re here. That’s what matters.

2 days to go. Last 3-mile run for a while is done. They tell you to exercise as much as you're allowed prior to surgery, and I've been fortunate to be able to lift light weights and do aerobics for the past several weeks.

According to my fitness app, I've logged 1,602 minutes of exercise from the time I learned I would need surgery to today. I've trained for this. Nothing left to do but put my faith in God and the experts.