33-Death panels, advanced directives, a dream, and a miracle

Part 8: The Chronic Condition

In order to qualify for government assistance, over the years we collected a series of doctor notes stating the medical need I fulfilled for my father. For a decade and a half, he was my three, full-time jobs. His heart condition required round-the-clock care. It all started when we was a child and contracted rheumatic fever, leaving him with a heart murmur that kept him out of WWII, unlike his heroic brother Hal, a Nazi POW diagnosed in his seventies with PTSD. The first time I saved my father’s life was when his heart murmur turned into full-blown congestive heart failure. He would've died in his sleep if I had not insisted we see the doctor. Open-heart surgery was schedule for as soon as possible, about thirty-six hours after the appointment.

Like former Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger and a favorite actor Robin Williams, he had his heart valve replace. Unlike them, he got a plastic one which meant he'd take rat poison, a common blood thinner, to lower the risk of clotting around the valve for the rest of his life. This drug is also a lung-specific carcinogen and played a role in his death by weakening his lungs after years of exposure. Of course without it and the surgery, he would have died within weeks of that appointment.

Shortly after the surgery, I would save his life a second time. Early in the morning, he knocked on my bedroom door, “Jaxon, I was taking a shower and feel lightheaded.” As I did in the Army, I hopped to. I opened the door. He stood before me naked, dripping wet. I asked him how he felt. “Better now.” I took him into his room to dry him off and dress him for the drive to the ER. “Jaxon, I’m feeling lightheaded again.” I stopped what I was doing, raced around his queen-sized bed, seized the phone, and made the call. “I’m sorry, but my father just had open heart surgery two weeks ago and is feeling lightheaded. I don’t want to bother you, but is this a problem?” She responded, “The ambulance is on its way, please stay with me until they arrive.” Five minutes did not pass before they surrounded him with care.

The paramedics took him from the house on a stretcher. They sped away, lights off. I jumped in the car and followed. Halfway there, the lights came on; full cardiac arrest. He was shocked multiple times. Finally, the ER doctor hit his chest hard enough to break the arrhythmia and reset his heart's rhythm. Dad said he’d never forget the raw pain produced by a newly sewn-shut chest after being repeatedly zapped by a series of powerful jolts and then crushed by a firm fist. When he'd tell the story, he'd end it with, “I'll never forget what it felt like when that doctor hit me …” He'd chuckle to himself and smile. “But he saved my life; I just don't know why it had to hurt so much.” Sometimes when you fight against all odds, you win despite the cost.