Breaking News!

Yes! A reprieve! Perhaps – God willing – one of an indefinite duration!

Had a meeting with my cardiologist today, which frankly I was dreading since we scheduled it long before the Paris trip. When I heard the news that the lung profusion was back down to 12 percent, after being as high as 26 percent right after my 2010 surgery, I was devastated. Particularly because there were strong hints to me back then that if that second stent operation wasn’t successful, it might be prudent to remove my lung.

There are many reasons why I want to keep my lung. First, well, because it’s part of me. And God gives you two for a reason. Second, of all the pain and discomfort I went through back in February 2009 with the pulmonary vein stenosis, none was as of a long-lasting, low-level, long-term misery as what they did to my lung. Due to a tube being stuck between my ribs, every time I moved – basically, every time I breathed – hot liquid would pour out, down my bandages, dampening my bed clothes and linens. Every day the tape wrapping my left torso had to be changed, and every day it got worse and worse as the layers of skin peeled off with it. Soon my chest looked like it vacationed in Chernobyl. The doctor who fiddled with the lung cut a whole bunch of nerves, so whenever I touch the front of my left chest, it feels like I’m poking myself in the back. Creepy.

I don’t want to rehash all the unpleasantries here, but that is basically what I did all through this past May. I had it firmly established in my mind that worse case I’d have to have the lung removed; best case I’d have to go through another stent procedure. Neither particularly interested me to say the least. Not only that, but I’m only seven months into a job I like and I’d have to take who-knows-how-long unpaid time off from it for these surgeries – how would bills be paid? I was truly at wits end, reaching the breaking point.

I’ve been reading Sacred Heart stuff a lot of late, especially during our trip from France. It’s done a lot of good, and I find it immensely appealing. But for this challenge, I had to rely on St. Jude. You know, he of hopeless cases. Somehow a booklet came in the mail a few months ago, and I’ve been praying through it, especially over the past week. Boy – let me tell you – it works! This is the second time I’ve resorted to St. Jude, and both times he has come through for me, intercession-wise.

At the doctor’s today, the first thing I told him was how shocked I was at the result of the lung scan, especially since I felt so good. Still out of breath at times, yes, but I could deeply inhale without pain since early Spring. I was certain I was on the path to recovery. I could exercise when I wanted to. The three flights of stairs in my house weren’t as bad as they had been in the past. The hills of Paris did not defeat me.

“Good,” he said. “Then we’re not going to do anything.”

Huh?

Several misconceptions I had were cleared up. First, just because the pulmonary vein is severely compromised and blood is not flowing through it, does not mean that the lung is going to die. I had visions of a dead organ inside my chest. No, my doctor told us (my wife was present), there are bronchial veins all through the lung that supply it with oxygen and nutrients. It will still “live,” though it won’t be doing its job.

The right lung is compensating for that. The analogy he used was the George Washington Bridge. Let the lower level be the left lung and the upper level the right lung. For me, it’s as if there is an accident on the lower level. A bad one, say, only foot traffic can get through. Where will all the other cars go? Back up to the upper level. In other words, ninety percent of the blood leaving the heart looking to get oxygenated is going to the right lung as opposed to the left. The right lung is handling all that nicely.

He put me through an echocardiogram to check the pressures and flows in my heart. Everything looked perfect, or as perfect as could be expected given what I’ve been through for the past three or four years. Finally, he shook my hand. No more lung scans, and “come back and see my in two years.” (Of course, should my condition deteriorate in any way, or if I spit up blood or something, I need to notify him immediately. But, he stressed, my body has adapted. The me right now is not the me three years ago.)

Alleluia!

Now – back to the exercise bike. Back to the weightlifting. Back to eating a bit more cleaner. And maybe – just maybe – I can run that 5K my town sponsors every April.

But not tonight. Tonight is a celebration! It’s Taco Tuesday, the Monday Night Edition! Woo-hoo!



And remember, I firmly believe this guy had a big hand in all this. Thank you St. Jude!