Early July, 2003 I stepped from a 5th wheel camper and found myself lying on the ground with three fractures in right leg and ankle. Now there’s enough metal in my leg to put the entire TSA on alert and although healed there are times walking is a big challenge. I should have known something was up when before the surgery it was advised I have stress tests etc. after the leg healed.
Fast forward to mid November 2005. Progressive shortness of breath and swollen ankles lead to the emergency room. After a chest X-Ray came those words: “congestive heart failure”. They hit with crushing force. Angiography revealed no blockages while an echo cardiogram showed ejection fraction at 15% (a discouragingly low number). Drug treatment controlled blood pressure but higher ejection fraction did not happen with me as it does for some.
Janice and I were informed valve replacement surgery was the best chance for reasonable quality of life. We were in a stunned haze leaving that meeting. During the getting things (physically, mentally, legally etc.) time before surgery I confided to Janice that if two things happened (disability benefits approved and waking up after surgery) I would love to go touring astride a Honda Goldwing. The way I saw it (and still do) not everyone gets a last hoorah and even less get to choose it. And if this isn’t my last, even better.
The weekend before surgery was spent with family at my brother’s place. I needed all the support possible and mom and one sister were able to be there. It was Janice’s weekend to work so she stayed home. Late Saturday afternoon Janice called and told me there was an acceptance letter approving my disability. Late May 2006 the surgery took place and two days later an ICD implanted.
By early July recovery was moving along nicely and we met with the surgeon. After assuring me all was going well I started a question and answer session:
We are going to western Montana in a couple weeks, will that be OK?
Her answer: Since you will be in altitudes you are not acclimated to remember 1 beer will seem like 2 or 3 so be careful.
Will there be a problem with me driving?
Her answer: Just be careful.
How about riding a bicycle?
Her answer: Good exercise, just be careful.
What about riding the motorcycle?
A silence and roll of eyes, then her answer: Oh, you’re killing me here! Just be careful!
We left the examining room and walking toward the exit I said “OK, let’s pick up the bike”. My green ‘95 Aspencade was paid for and waiting at the dealership. That afternoon I swung right leg over the saddle, donned the only helmet I had until our new ones arrived and rode my new bike home. It must have been quite the site, a red helmet and green motorcycle – kind of an early summer Christmas tree. That must have been quite the site -
but I didn’t care on little bit!
