One morning in 2002 --if my memory serves correctly-- I was on my way home from working the mid-night shift in Rochester. I had decided to stop in my village for breakfast, before going home to bed.
I was sitting at the counter in the local diner, conversing with a neighbor and waiting for my order. While we were talking, a series of sharp chest pains stopped by for a visit. As the pain increased, I stood up and walked toward the door of the restaurant. Not wanting to make a scene, I walked around a little and then returned to my seat as the pain had subsided.
While I ate, I was concerned about what I had just experienced. The symptoms included pain and tightening of the chest and also a slight numbness in my arm. It was obvious to me, these were the classic signs of a heart attack. After enjoying my pancakes with lots of syrup, I went home and went to bed.
Within the next few weeks after seeing my doctor, and then the cardiologist that had been recommended, I was scheduled for a cardiac catheterization. That's the procedure where they put a nice little slit in the area of your groin, and then send this nifty little camera --attached to the end of a roto-rooter type snake-- up to your heart to kind of snoop around and see what they can see. As fun and good times go, it wasn't. Having a six foot five linebacker type of guy with a razor and shaving cream wasn't my idea of a good time either, but he trimmed me up nicely for the doctor.
My cardiologist reported back to me, as I was patiently (pun intended) waiting in the recovery room, that my arteries were really clear. He stated that I had the arteries of a man half my age. "It must be the running", he stated. But then he went on to tell me more. He told me that I had had a heart attack and that there was "universal damage" all around my heart muscle. He also stated that my heart was enlarged. Of course, I already knew that because, well... I love everyone.
In discussing my condition with the doctor, I reminded him several times that I was a runner and that I had been running for many years. I told him about my belief that runner's hearts are different than most others. After all, it's a muscle and when you exercise muscles, they tend to enlarge. He didn't buy my story and stood firm in his belief about my condition. He prescribed a host of medications that he wanted me to begin taking. He also recommended that I slow down with the running and suggested that I put on some weight. Weird.
A year or so later, I made an appointment to re-visit my doctor for a check-up. I was told that my cardiologist was no longer with the medical firm, and that he had returned to his native country. I was assigned a new cardiologist. It's interesting --when I met with my new cardiologist, she told me that after looking at my files and lab results, she didn't believe that I had had a heart attack. She somewhat agreed with my theory about running and hearts. She wasn't upset with me when I told her that I hadn't taken the prescribed medication either. I explained that I am not one to take pills and that although I had initially followed the doctor's orders for a month or two, the pills ended up being flushed soon there after. My new cardiologist gave me a clean bill of health that day.
Fast forward now if you will, to the winter of 2008. I had just returned from a RoadLoK event in El Paso with my son Eric. It was mid-week around noon, and I was driving myself to lunch. While stopped at a traffic light, an all too familiar pain returned for a visit. Again this time, I had similar feelings of tightness in the chest and a slight numbness in my left arm. The pain was so intense at one point that I stopped my Jeep in traffic, and started to exit the vehicle. Within seconds, the pain subsided and I continued on my way. Time once again to make an appointment with a cardiologist.
Having moved to the Hudson Valley from Upstate New York, I had to find a new cardiologist to try and solve the mystery of the old pump. After many appointments, which included a long series of tests, the results came in. The tests included blood work, stress tests, CT scans and more. I wondered, "Would my diagnosis be accurate this time?"
Upon entering the examination room, the doctor greeted me and quite bluntly stated, "Mr. Xavier, you have the same thing that killed John Ritter". "Thank you", was my reply. He went on to explain to me that I had an aortic aneurysm --a weakening of the aortic wall, causing a bulge-- and that it would require surgery. He told me that there was no immediate urgency, as it was not at a dangerous level yet. "You have a few years before it will need to be fixed", he stated to me. "Don't run as much in the meantime and stop racing", were his words of advice. Once again, I found myself to be questioning a professional's expertise because of my running background. "Don't you think that because I run, my aorta would naturally be larger than someone not as athletic?" His reply was simply, "no".
It was explained to me that the aneurysm would enlarge each year. Typically, according to the doctor, it would increase approximately one half centimeter each year. He stated that the only way to correct this medical issue was through surgery. "There is no medication that can fix this", he stated to me. He stated that "we" would monitor my aorta annually and watch it grow. Actually, I don't think he quite worded it that way, but that's what he meant.
Almost two years later, while seeing another doctor for an unrelated issue, we discussed my past heart history. Among other things, we had a lengthy discussion about hearts and running. Finally, I was conversing with a doctor who had an open mind about my theories on this subject! Understand that my theories are based on a lot of reading and research I have done over the past twenty years --about runners and health.
During our conversation, the good doctor offered to run the same tests for me as had been previously completed to check my aorta. I should note here, that I hadn't been back to the first cardiologist after the diagnosis of the aneurysm. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Regarding that, let me just say that it's a long story about a stubborn man.
A couple of weeks after these tests were completed; I met again with the doctor. When he came into the examining room, he spoke without hesitation, like the previous doctor who had stated that I had "the same thing that killed John Ritter". Only this time, the words I heard were, "you don't have an aneurysm, in-fact there is nothing wrong with your heart or aorta", as he handed me the lab report which confirmed his statement. He then reaffirmed to me the fact that I am a big guy with a vast running history, and having a somewhat larger heart and aorta seems to make sense. He too, gave me a clean bill of health.
I went to the gym that evening and had a great carefree workout. This truly was my first "carefree" workout in almost two years. Even though I had continued to run and race, I will admit here that my mind often thought about the possible serious consequences I was flirting with while running and competing. Normally, when an aorta ruptures, it's checkout time for the victim, or so I'm told.The old pump has done well the past couple of years. I continue to run and I typically push myself most days while I pound the pavement. Many days, I feel like a well-oiled machine as I cruise along the pavement, mostly paying attention to time, pace and distance. It's not very often now, that I think about my heart when I run, or the fact that I had several professionals attempt to void its warranty.
I think this old pump has a lot of life left in it.
~Safe Riding and Running!~
-The Chief
1 comment:
This story reminds us to be inquiring consumers about our medical care and to perhaps always get a second opinion! We're glad that you'll still be running and writing for awhile Chief!
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