Well, that was a different sailing season than we expected. It all started with getting some maintenance done on various boat systems. Every system had something that needed to be done. All in anticipation of the great sailing adventure of 2025, and while all of the work on the boat was completed, our plans quickly changed. When it became clear that I needed to have surgery, we quickly had to obtain a slip for the summer, as we had planned to launch and sail away without need for a ‘permanent’ slip for the season.
Marcia did a great job of keeping you informed, and on my side, it just seemed like a long ‘No, wait, hold my beer’.
First, the abdominal aortic aneurysm freaked me out. I had heard about them, and they’re not good news. Next came the flailing mitral valve, and that required open heart surgery to be scheduled. The next, ‘hold my beer’ came as I was getting all of the labs and imaging done in preparation for the surgery. Two weeks before surgery, I signed consent forms. Later that week, a chest CT showed a significant ascending aortic aneurysm. It wasn’t an emergency, but it was important enough to change the surgery and require new consent forms.
I watched YouTube videos, and videos from websites specifically for cardiothoracic surgeons. It was fascinating to watch how they can open the heart, stitch in a stabilizing ring, reform the valve leaflets and repair the valve. For the ascending aorta, they cut away the aneurysm, and replace it with a Dacron tube. They also needed to replace the aortic valve, and aortic root. I really needed to see the process and procedures the surgical team would use during surgery to help lower my anxiety.
I also learned about the system that would continue to oxygenate and pump blood through my body while they stopped my heart and lungs. There are multiple pumps that replace the functions of the heart, and a membrane to take carbon dioxide from the blood, and replace that with oxygen. In addition to backup hospital generator, the system has backup batteries to continue to operate if utility power should fail. Moreover, they have handles to manually crank the pumps if all else fails.
I couldn’t have had a better team to do the surgery and care for me after. I was in the Cardiac ICU for about twenty four hours, and then I moved to step-down. I took it as a good omen that on the wall in front of my bed was a print of a painting with a sailboat.
There was a struggle after discharge from hospital. I hurt and the pain meds made it so I really couldn’t read or watch videos. My vision included a disconcerting ‘waterfall’ effect after taking the ‘oxy. But slowly, with careful attention from my familial support team, I was healing.
About three weeks out of surgery, we made a trip over to Muskegon to see the boat. We all know that Michigan roads need repair. But imagine a hundred mile car ride, with ribs that have been spread open, a sternum cut in two and wired back together, and a sensitive incision that was healing. I had to take a two hour nap to recover from the bouncing and jouncing.
We had a lovely sail on a light wind day, just right to heal my soul, just a little bit. We did day sails into mid-October as I continued to regain my strength and stamina.
In late September, I started a twelve-week, thrice per week cardiac rehab program. It’s basically exercise machines with the addition of weigh-ins, with blood pressure readings before and after, and a wireless EKG monitor during exercise. Because my issues were more mechanical, I was able to heal faster. I completed my rehab after only 7 weeks.
I continue to do cardio exercises two or three days per week, and put together the last of the maintenance and improvements to Reflection once the weather warms up again.
A reflection: I was disappointed in the first couple of months. Our plans had to change, and the excitement of the sailing adventure gave way to the disappointing decline in my abilities and health. As I learned more about what was happening, and survival rates of of a flailing mitral valve, and the aneurysm (a small chance of survival if you’re in the hospital, and almost no chance if you’re away), came the what-ifs. What if this wasn’t discovered in late-March, April and May? What if we had started our sailing adventure, and I became more and more symptomatic?
And what replaced the what-ifs? Gratitude. Gratitude that it was all caught early. Gratitude for all who cared for me, from the surgeons to the housekeeper. Gratitude for family and friends. Gratitude for cards and letters, prayers and thoughts. Gratitude that the what-ifs have given way to what-nows and what-whens.
Gratitude for simply being at the end of this year, and being hopeful for the years to come.