About Me (In My Own Words)
I was diagnosed with probable bicuspid aortic valve several years ago. Over time, it became increasingly stenotic, according to the echocardiograms. In the meantime, I began to notice strange sensations, maybe painful, in my chest, which was remarkable to me, as I had never in my life actually FELT my heart. I used to be a distance runner through my late 20s and 30s, and knew my heart was funky because my resting heart rate, even when aerobically fit, was well above 100 bpm.
When I ran, it shot up to 140 or 150 bpm. All the books said that's too high, it's anaerobic, and provided a formula for finding my proper "training heart rate." Well, if I'd gone by that, I'd have never gone faster than a brisk walk. Instead of that guide I trained according to my perceived exertion, also recommended in the running books, which was sensible, though it meant my heart rate while running was often around 150. But I was breathing as one should, didn't run out of aerobic capacity, and so life went on.
After a marathon and a sports medicine doctor telling me my knees were not made for more marathons, I backed off and ran for basic fitness and fun. And the tachycardia persisted.
I was also aware of my heartbeat being a little irregular. Sometimes it took a bit long for the next beat, sometimes the next beat came sooner than expected. All this time, which spanned many years (at least from age 30 to 60-plus), no doctor ever took notice or became interested when I pointed out my heart rate, or mentioned the irregularities.
Years later, around 2018, my heart rate spontaneously decreased over a period of some months, until my resting rate was, and still is, in the 60-70 bpm range. I still can't get a cardiologist to be curious about this.
However, after my diagnosis of Aortic Stenosis, in the earlier, dangerous days of Covid, I became alarmed by the new sensations I was having in my chest. I am anything but overreactive, and it took my daughter pressuring me to go to the local ER, double masked, to be checked out. They found nothing to explain what I was feeling. I was relieved to be told I wasn't having a heart attack, and I didn't catch Covid in the ER. But the sensations continued, and were unsettling.
I went to my cardiologist and he unhelpfully suggested I was tight in my chest muscles and showed me some stretches to do. He also wrote in my chart a diagnosis that was inaccurate and that he was unqualified to make, having to do with my mental health. I myself have a PhD in clinical psychology, so this pissed me right off, of course. Who would not be anxious under the circumstances?
I found another cardiologist soon after. He looked at the history, did an exam, listened to my story. Then, he described what I was feeling in my chest himself, and better than I'd been able to do so far. He got it! There's even a name for it! It's an electrical anomaly in which the heart beats a little soon or a little late, and the person notices it at rest, not on exertion. It's called PVC (which to me usually means the plastic pipe we use around the farm for various things including plumbing in the barn), and I forget what it stands for, but the P is for Premature. It's a benign phenomenon except under certain circumstances, one of which is, or can be, heart valve problems.
After this, I was provided a Holter monitor for a couple of weeks, and the results of that were completely uninteresting. I was again relieved to know that whatever it was I felt was not dangerous, and so I went on, doing farm work and waiting for the stenosis to give me symptoms I could feel.
In due time, I realized I didn't feel like doing physical work as much, and was glad to be relieved of tasks in barn and pastures. Then, I began to feel, after exerting myself as I had been doing for years, kind of spent. Not truly out of breath, nor lightheaded, but as if I didn't have any reserves. Or as my mother used to say, I felt all gone.
I reported this to my cardiologist, who ordered another echocardiogram. The findings prompted a referral to the valve team. Next came repeated blood work because over the years I'd developed high BP and kidney disease. My CT scan had to be done without dye, to protect my kidneys. I spent at least 90 minutes in the MRI tube, while they labored to get pictures that showed everything needed, in the absence of the use of dye.
I'd been assuming I'd have a TAVR, and was distressed to learn that my age (72 by now) put me in a category of people who might live long enough to need another valve replacement at an age when open chest surgery would be a sketchier proposition than now. TAVR was not a sure thing.
Suddenly, the gravity of my diagnosis and its treatment sank in. I was filled with dread and fear. I have a daughter who was chronically ill through her childhood and while doing well now, she has been more reliant on me than is usual. I feel a continuing responsibility to her, and seeing her into fully independent life is still on my To Do List.
In other words, I am not ready to leave this world. In the last two years, my sister was diagnosed with untreatable bladder cancer and died; my husband's dementia made living in a care home necessary and then he died. And as if these close deaths weren't enough, my darling sweet cat died. That felt like the last straw. And so, mortality has become my constant companion. The statistics have been of little help. I have more than once been in a statistical minority, and if one percent of patients have a stroke, that means it happens. I'm not a pessimist, but someone has to have the stroke; why not me.
More Info About Me & My Heart
More About Me
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I am from:
Cornelius, Oregon
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My surgery date is:
August 14, 2024
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I was diagnosed with:
Aortic Stenosis
Bicuspid Aortic Valve
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My surgery was:
Transcatheter Aortic Valve Replacement
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My surgeon is:
Dr. Logan Vincent
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My hospital is:
Providence St. Vincent
