Eric 2.0 (and Announcing the Respite From Navel-Gazing)

Not vegetative; just busy or lazy or both. Blazy, perhaps.

My catheterization procedure began with new baseline EKG readings, which means it really began with shaving spots on my chest. The EKG probes clip onto posts that are attached to me by plastic suction cups with some kind of superconductive adhesive. Hair, as you well know, is not conductive and must therefore be shaved away. Unfortunately, the nurses couldn't shave spots that had been shaved by other nurses: they needed to mark their territory in virgin, old-growth stands of chest hair. You will not see me without a shirt until I recover from this bout of mange.

Next I received a shot of lidocaine to my groin, where a nurse inserted a "sheath" into my femoral artery. The sheath maintains the opening in the artery and protects the tissue from all the wires that run up into the heart. I was also given some kind of relaxant that prevented me from caring where the wires went.

My narrow gurney was slid, feet first, into the imaging system. I couldn't see the entire device because the fluoroscopy camera, encased in a beige, steel box about two feet square and attached to a robotic rotator arm, was placed over my chest. My arms were held at my sides by metal guards. To my right I could see the leaded plexiglass shield that protected the doctor and his assistants. Down and to my left I could see a couple of the monitors they would be using.

The doctor injected contrast dye into my coronary arteries, making them much easier to see. But even with the dye, I could make out only a pulsing, ghostly image on the black and white monitor, except for the wire, which was a well-defined shephard's crook in all the haze.

Soon the doctor came up to my end of the gurney (it seemed as though he was working ten feet away from me when he was really just two feet from my head at all times) to inform me that I had three blockages that he believed he could open with two stents. He needed my permission to insert them. It seemed absurd at the time, although I understood why he asked. Like, what was I going to say? One stent now, one later? No, but thanks for asking? I wanted to comparison shop for stents on eBay?

So he inserted the first stent into my right coronary artery. As he did so, I watched the artery expand and grow like a tree in time-lapse photography. The blockage, probably 95% of the inner diameter of the artery, was near the top of the RCA. Afterwards, he came back up to me and bade me to watch the monitor while the "control room" replayed the images. "How do you like your new artery?" he asked. And it was like having a new artery. Imagine removing a dam on the Mississippi River at, say, Moline, Illinois and watching the water come down in New Orleans. Yes, it was that dramatic.

The second stent went into my 1st obtuse marginal artery which, as any child can tell you, comes off the left circumflex artery which feeds blood to the backside of the heart. I'm not clear on the precise placement of it, the stent which spans two blockages, but I remember the doctor explaining that this location was very narrow and difficult to reach.

Amazingly, I was in Cardiac Cath Lab #3 for a total of 45 minutes. Here's an updated map of my heart:



Stent #1 measures 3.5 mm by 10 mm; stent #2 measures 3 mm by 20 mm. I even have a user guide (and an I.D. card) for them.

After surgery, nurses pulled the sheath from my femoral artery. They installed a clamp on my leg -- a high-tech and sterile version of a woodworking clamp -- for twenty minutes to staunch any blood flow from the artery. Just before noon I was pushed up to 7th floor, B section, for further recovery and overnight observation.

Before I move on, I'd like to say thank you to Dr. Eitzman and his awesome team in the Cath Lab. You guys are personable and professional, and you rock.

Here's a little insurance irony for you: there are people who receive cardiac catheterization and are sent home the same day. They get the same attention on their "site" (that is, their groin) that I received. Except that I was kept overnight, you see, and every nurse needed to examine my groin. I'm not living some male fantasy here. I'm only pointing out that, for all the fuss about possible complications with my stents, they spent a lot more time on my groin. This is attention that other catheterizees didn't get.

I had to lay on my back for six hours following the procedure. I don't think I've ever been so happy to sit upright. The next morning at around 11 Julie wheeled me out to the parking structure and drove me home.

That's it. I feel great. Julie and I can now resume our evening walks, although we've spent more time indoors on the treadmill because of inclement weather.

Now that I've finally got this out of my system, I look forward to writing about something other than my physical condition. Whew.