by Susan Lamy

In December I went to see my primary care physician for a physical so that I could have a cataract removed. It was just a formality, as I was in perfect health. I am a very active person, walk two to four miles almost every day, take gym classes a few times a week including Zumba. My blood pressure and cholesterol counts were ideal.

Although an EKG was not required for the cataract surgery, I said to my doctor, “You know, maybe you should do an EKG. Recently I had to slow down my walking because of a funnly liittle feeling, as if the cold was making it harder to breathe."  My doctor replied, “We're doing an EKG --  and tomorrow, you are going for a stress test.”

The EKG was perfect, but my doctor insisted on the stress test.  The next day, expecting to be pushed to my maximum, I put on workout clothes. There would be five three-minute segments on a treadmill, each one faster and with higher elevation. Fine with me.

No sooner than I was hooked up and the treadmill started (at a turtle’s tempo), the staff started asking me if I was okay.  I told them yes, but they kept adjusting the wires and finally stopped the test.  "There were some irregularities"  and the cardiologist would be right out.  The doctor came out and said, “This is a very, very, very unhappy stress test.”

I didn't  panic until he said he had already phoned my primary care physician since there was no time to lose!  In his office, he asked about my parents. I told him that my mother is 90 years old but my father had died of a heart attack just before his 72nd birthday. We had been out for the evening and I was dancing the lindy with him when he said he wasn’t feeling well and we sat down. Perhaps 30 seconds later he simply died.

The cardiologist said, “The only thing you did wrong is get on the wrong line when they were giving out genes.”

He said that I needed to check into the hospital so that the arteries surrounding my heart could be checked. If the problem was a small artery or two, it could be fixed with angioplasty and stenting. However, “if the problem is in the main artery, we will have to do open heart surgery.”

He showed me the treadmill test results and explained that a normal test would show no change from stillness to movement. On my test, all seven graph lines instantly changed direction when I moved. The doctor prepared me to expect the bigger deal: open heart surgery.

If that were the case, I asked, should I be going to New York for the surgery? I could, he said, but Bridgeport Hospital has a wonderful cardio department and fine surgeons. 

In parting I asked if he wanted me to skip my Zumba class the next day.  "NO Zumba," he replied.  "I want you to go home and be a couch potato until you come to the hospital on Wednesday."

On Dec. 22nd I checked into Bridgeport Hospital for the procedure to get a good look at my arteries and fix them if possible. While I was still on the table, the cardiologist said, “Susan, this won’t work, we need to do open heart surgery. There is a blockage in the main artery.”

The following morning I was taken to surgery where Dr. Robinson and his team performed a double bypass of my main artery. I was in surgery for over five hours. When I recovered enough to be coherent, I was told that I had had a “silent killer in my body,” which could have killed me instantly at any moment. Of course, my Zumba became a legend in the hospital, as very few cardiac patients are Zumba aficionados.

I received wonderful care at Bridgeport Hospital. My surgeon saw me two or three times a day. He was not only a fine surgeon, but a wonderful man, kind and sensitive. He listened and responded, and he was accessible, even after I left the hospital.

I must stress that had I not needed a pre-op exam before the cataract surgery, I never would have seen a doctor for the “funny little feeling” I experienced.  I was extremely lucky that I mentioned it to my doctor and that he heard me. It saved my life.

I am also very lucky that I have no plaque anywhere in my coronary arteries nor in the carotids. But I did have two obstructions in the main artery which could have cut off every drop of blood going to my heart in an instant, had they moved. Now I have no restrictions at all, not even of what I eat.  I am now in a cardio rehab program, working out on a treadmill and other equipment while being monitored, building up my strength so I can get back to my Zumba class.

I have written this because I feel that we don’t often listen to our bodies, nor do we want to complain to a doctor, lest we be considered a pest. Well, I am living proof that we must report what we feel if it is out of the ordinary, even if it doesn’t seem extreme. I never thought something dangerous was going on when I had to slow my pace while walking on a cold day. Oh yes, it seems that when we are cold our arteries constrict. Since I had a blockage which was already limiting the blood flow to my heart, the further constriction of the arteries due to the cold exacerbated the situation and gave me angina, my “funny little feeling.”

 Look what Beth Ulman discovered! She went to the Westport News' website and typed "humanistic" in the Search box at the top of the page.  The results are dynamic, which means they will change as new articles meet the criteria, but scroll down and you'll see a history of the Congregation's recent finest moments, with photos. Many of these articles were contributed by Beth herself. Thank you, Beth. Try it yourself!