So. That happened.
On May 6th, my blood pressure hit 207/140. For context, normal is around 120/80. I called 911, and thus began my 15-day stay at Hotel Hospital, Glendale, Arizona. One star. Would not recommend. The continental breakfast was insulin.
The hypertensive emergency triggered a cascade of tests. A nuclear stress test came back abnormal. An EKG came back abnormal. So on May 7th they threaded a catheter through my wrist and took a look at my coronary arteries directly — because apparently that's something you can just do now. The findings: three-vessel coronary artery disease. Two arteries about 70% blocked, one at 90%. The cardiologist decided stents weren't the right move and called in a cardiac surgeon, which is the medical equivalent of escalating to a manager.
The surgeon, Dr. Patel, recommended a double bypass. His preference is to operate on a beating heart without using a heart-lung bypass machine, which reduces the risk of cognitive side effects, stroke, and kidney issues. The heart muscle itself was fine — this was purely a plumbing problem. I found this oddly comforting, like being told your house is structurally sound but the pipes are a disaster.
Surgery was scheduled for Monday, May 11th. I did everything right: nothing to eat or drink after midnight, IV in, hospital gown on — the one that ties in the back and provides exactly the coverage you'd expect. Fully prepped and ready to go. And then we discovered that Dr. Patel had never actually agreed to operate on May 11th. He had a different date in mind the whole time. Nobody had confirmed it with him directly. So there I sat. Gowned up. Hungry. Waiting for a surgery that the surgeon didn't know he was supposed to be doing.
A nurse spent a good chunk of the morning on the phone with Dr. Patel's scheduling coordinator negotiating a new date. Surgery was rescheduled to Wednesday, May 14th. And here's the kicker: I had to stay inpatient the entire time, because if I left the hospital I'd become an outpatient and could lose the Wednesday slot. I spent two extra days in the hospital because of a scheduling miscommunication. I have made peace with this.
May 14th, 9 AM, the surgery actually happened. Dr. Patel bypassed two of the three diseased arteries — one using the left internal mammary artery, which is the gold standard for this kind of graft, and one using a vein harvested from my leg. The third artery is being managed with medication. It went well. I woke up in the ICU, which is a sentence I'm glad I get to say in the past tense.
A few things happened after surgery worth mentioning. On May 15th, monitoring picked up atrial fibrillation — an irregular heart rhythm. I felt nothing. My heart was apparently freelancing while I slept, and it was talked back into normal rhythm the next day with medication. Then on Day 12, I had breathing spasms. It turned out I have allergic asthma and had been off my allergy medications for the entire hospital stay. Nobody thought to continue them, and I didn't push it. Albuterol fixed it quickly. That one's on me. And somewhere around Day 14, when I was out of the ICU and the adrenaline had worn off, I acknowledged that I'd been in more pain than I'd let on. The nurses were not surprised.
I was discharged on May 20th — 15 days after admission. I feel good, genuinely good, not "I'm fine" good. Some soreness, which is expected when someone has recently been inside your chest. I came home with a portable EKG device and a smart watch with a heart monitor. I am now, effectively, a walking cardiac monitoring station. Recovery takes a few months, and I'll post updates as things progress.
For my work colleagues: I'm easing back in. The brain works fine — it's the rest of me that's on a slower schedule. I'll be available, but recovery comes first, which means I'll be fitting work in around a steady stream of follow-up appointments and whatever my body decides it needs that day. If something's urgent, reach out. If it can wait, it probably should.
Thanks for the messages and well-wishes — they meant a lot, even when I wasn't in a position to respond.
— Doug