THE BROO VIEW with Ken Broo

Good Tuesday Morning..

I haven't posted in awhile. This may explain why...

Somebody once said that life is something that happens to you, while you’re making other plans. I thought about that line a lot on Christmas Eve this year.

On Christmas Eve, I had a heart attack.

I’m 57 years old. Unlike a lot of people in my line of work, I don’t mind telling my age. What’s the difference? There will always be people younger than me and there are plenty of people who’ve died wishing they would have made it to 57. If you take care of yourself, age is only a number.

And to be perfectly honest, I thought I was taking care of myself. I’m not overweight (180 pounds give a take a few depending on the season). I work out three times a week (cardio as well as weights). I eat well, maybe not as much as I should, but well. I’ve never smoked a day in my life. I don’t drink (maybe a merlot or two on Saturday nights) and I’ve never done drugs.

So you can imagine my amazement at approximately 8:15 Christmas Eve morning, when I awakened to numbness in my arms, unable to catch my breath and sweating profusely. I felt as though the next contestant for The Biggest Loser was sitting on my chest. I had all the signs, but was still in denial. I told my wife to get dressed, we were going to the hospital, but that it wasn’t anything big, no need for a 9-1-1 moment in our driveway.

Interesting side note here: hospital staff say the worst heart attack victims are the ones that don’t arrive by ambulance.

15 seconds on an EKG machine convinced the hospital staff at Anderson Mercy that I was having a heart attack. It wasn’t a Red Foxx special (kids, ask your parents about it). But it was significant. Later, the cardiologist would tell me it would be classified a s a ‘major heart attack’.

I was fortunate. From first chest pain to getting prepped in the “Cath Lab”, it was no more than 30 minutes. Doctors say if you can get to the hospital within 90 minutes of the onset of a heart attack, you should be in good shape. Of course, they’ll add, plenty of people simply keel over or die in their sleep. I was fortunate.

Some other poor guy, who’s name I didn’t’ get but I hope is doing well, rolled into Anderson Mercy about an hour before I did. The staff had to haul in the cardiologist on call, Dr.Craig Sukin, to assist him. The good doctor thought he was done for the day, when they wheeled my sorry butt into the OR. He knew from looking at my EKG what was going on. But there was only one way to make sure. If you get a little queasy about surgery, you may want to skip the next couple of paragraph.

The only want to see what’s really going on inside your heart, is to go inside your heart. And the way to a man’s heart is through his groin. You’re saying Ken, I think I heard this once in an adult film. Well, most likely yes, but let me continue. The major artery from the heart to the groin is the femerul artery, groin right. Slice it open, and stick in tube and up you go. A couple of right turns later, they found the root of my problem: I had blockage in the artery in my heart that feeds the lower right side of it. It was the mother of all blockages: 100%.

I’m not certain if it was at this particular time or not, but at some point, a hospital staffer burst into the operating room and screamed “Do you have insurance?” I assumed she was asking me. Actually, I was hoping she was asking me and not the doctor. If she was asking him, I might have climbed off the table. Nothing like being reminded of what hospitals are really all about while you have a tube stuck into your groin.

I needed stints, three actually, little things that keep your artery open so the blood can flow freely again. And I need drugs, a lot of drugs. Plavix is apparently my new BFF. I found it comforting that, when he was finished with my heart and my groin, the good Doctor Sukin looked down at me as I was lying on the table and said (and this is the actual quote) “You have to take Plavix for the rest of your life. If you miss a day, you’ll die. “ I was ready to take 100 on the spot.

I spent one night in ICU, two others in another room and was back home on December 27th. And that’s how I spent my Christmas. Physically, I feel fine. Mentally, I have to admit, it’s a challenge. I’ve never turned down an assignment, always worked late into the night and tried to be all things to all people. I know I can’t do that anymore, and I probably shouldn’t have been doing it all along. I’ve got to learn how to work smarter. That’ll be tough. But if it keeps me alive, I’m all for it.

So how was your Christmas?