Lisa's Story

About Me (In My Own Words)

My name is Lisa. I live in Adelaide, South Australia. I am 50 years old, mother to one glorious son, protector of seven beautiful (rescued) cats, author of one novel and an avid lover of nature and the outdoors. I'd like to begin my valve story with the diagnosis stage.

Being a cyclist and beach walker for most of my life, I began noticing my shortness of breath during exercise perhaps in 2014.

The past couple of years have been stressful for my sister and I; our mother had a valve replacement in 2013. Given her age, other health problems, and another prolonged hospital stay early 2015, it was necessary to put her in an aged care facility around June. Anyone who's gone through this process with a parent will understand the kind of stress I'm talking about. You feel as though you're constantly on the run as you aim towards the end in sight you assume is somewhere around the next corner, while still dealing with everything else in your own life. I feel for anyone going through the same thing.

My shortness of breath became worse. By August '15 I was no longer able to walk on the beach and had lost confidence for cycling months before. Never would I have imagined that at just 50 years old I would be too scared to walk from the car into the supermarket because I didn't have the breath to make it. I still had no idea what could be the cause. Somewhere in my teens a doctor had mentioned a heart murmur but it was nothing to worry about. For the most part I'd always enjoyed good health. But now I'd started using a Ventolin inhaler and had upped my daily use of 'Rescue Remedy' for the constant anxiety. Walking up stairs at work had become impossible so I was now making excuses why I had to 'go the long way round' or reasons not to go to work at all. Visiting a doctor on my own behalf wasn't something I'd done for quite some time - I actually no longer had a regular GP it had been so long.

Since I was taking care of Mum's house more and more I decided to visit the medical surgery of my childhood and teen years. I'd had some recent experience with a doctor there in relation to my mother's health issues, so I went ahead and made the appointment.

I arrived at the surgery out of breath (as usual) and very stressed. The doctor was nice enough. I told him I was having a horrible response to stress, that I couldn't breathe to do the simplest task. He asked how my mother was doing. I burst into tears before I spoke. Yes, she was safe in the nursing home, but had had a considerable stroke etc etc. They'd found she also had breast cancer and was in the last stages. The hospital had told us she had maybe six months .... The doctor was very sympathetic. He knew instantly what my problem was. Still, he didn't check my blood pressure. He didn't listen to my heart or lungs. He didn't check my oxygen level. He didn't check my ankles for fluid retention. None of those things. Instead he printed me off a prescription for anxiety medication (benzodiazepine) and told me I was having a bereavement response to my mother's health. It was all very normal. He also made an appointment for me to see their resident psychologist for some Counseling. Ten sessions for free. Lucky me.

I took the anxiety pills as little as possible over three weeks - one to two a day. They probably eased the stressed feelings and enabled me to go to work. But they did nothing to stem a feeling of adrenaline racing through my heart when I lay down flat to sleep at night. The breathlessness was no better, either. With a few pills remaining I returned to the surgery for another prescription. This time I saw a female doctor. I told her I was still feeling breathless and asked for another prescription as they were helping me cope throughout the day. She agreed to give me one when she saw that my Counseling appointment was on the horizon. I asked her what would be causing my heart to feel as though it was racing, especially upon laying down. She told me it was the release of adrenaline caused by anxiety and that I needed to learn to control my thoughts. She gave me another prescription. She didn't take my blood pressure. She didn't listen to my heart or lungs. She didn't check my oxygen level.

Over the next few weeks I kept on as before, taking the anxiety medication as little as possible. I'd decided to let my own rental property go and move into my mother's empty house fifty miles away as it was getting too much to take care of both and everything else we were having to juggle at the time. Instead of paying rent I could pay into the nursing home. My sister agreed it was the best idea.

I'd just done the last trip to my old house and was on the way back to my mother's. I noticed my ankles felt funny. Sure enough, they were swelling up. Being a cyclist, I'd never had swollen ankles ... or legs for that matter, in my life.

By that weekend I felt dreadful. It was the first week of November. I decided to stop taking the anxiety pills. My ankles continued to swell and I felt truly ill. My lungs now crackled on breathing in. I rang the surgery and returned for another appointment late on a Saturday night. This time I saw a young male doctor, different again. I relayed my problem to him. I showed him my ankles. He looked at the notes in my file. This time he took my blood pressure, which was 'perfect', he said. He listened to my lungs ... just a slight crackle. And he took my oxygen level. Also 'perfect'. Still, he thought a chest x-ray might be an idea, so printed out a form. I asked him if I should be taking something to take the fluid from my ankles. He said to me 'There's nothing wrong with you, Lisa. You don't need anything.'

I had the x-ray a few days later. I returned to the surgery the day after that for the report. This time I saw a different doctor again - a female. She told me I had pneumonia and prescribed a course of antibiotics. The radiologist also recommended an echocardiogram after completing the antibiotics.

There came a day the following week where I felt gravely ill, the kind of ill where you actually feel afraid for yourself. I could barely walk to the bathroom, or get something to eat. I needed to sleep but couldn't lie down. My son was at work, my sister, too. And we don't like to bother anyone so we try and talk ourselves into feeling better .... that we're just having an unusually bad day and tomorrow we'll be fine. Don't be so dramatic, we say. It was near four o'clock in the afternoon when I felt scared enough to phone my son ... can you take me to the hospital when you get home, please.

We arrived at the ER around dinner time. It didn't take long to see a doctor. Within a few hours I'd answered lots of questions, had a chest x-ray, blood tests and had received Frusemide intravenously. While I began shifting all of that fluid that had turned my slim cycling legs into grotesque tree trunks, we waited for the results of one blood test which would decide whether I'd be sent home or to the cardiac ward at Flinders Medical Centre. I asked the doctor what the blood test would show. He said possibly the presence of a hormone that indicates a heart attack. The test was positive. My son went home. I went for a ride in an ambulance.

Initially, I spent seven days in the hospital. I was diagnosed with heart failure and severe aortic sclerosis requiring aortic valve replacement. (My surgery was carried out on 24/1/16 - but that's another story). I am VERY happy and feel so blessed to be alive!! Truly. The point I want to make in telling a long-winded story is this; the doctors at Flinders assured me that the symptoms I had were CLASSIC HEART FAILURE. Had I not listened to my deepest being and got the the ER that day, I may not be here right now. Had I been an elderly person I would not be here today. How is it possible that four doctors in one surgery did not have the training or the capability to recognize a patient in cardiac distress? Is there a gap in the medical training of GP's in Australia (or overseas for that matter) or is it the incompetence or indifference of the doctors in this surgery in particular?

That's enough for now.

More Info About Me & My Heart

More About Me

• 
  I am from:
  Adelaide, Australia
• 
  I was diagnosed with:
  Aortic Regurgitation
  Aortic Stenosis
  
• 
  My surgery was:
  Aortic Valve Replacement
  
• 
  My surgeon is:
  Dr. Hugh Cullen