Dispatches from the Heart
Page 13
Makes you wonder about other life-changing events that we can easily treat like boundaries: That first job we are not wild about. Is it a boundary or an opportunity? An important class with a prof that I could not stand. A new marriage about to be embarked on. An unappreciative boss. Taking a chance on a career change. An illness. Adding to the family. Moving, because of opportunity or lack thereof. Going to (different kinds of ) rehab with hopes of being better, stronger, different, changed. Being alone after the loss of a loved one. Seeing our children and grandchildren off to college. Watching our loved ones age and die. What to make of a new person in your life? Our own fears. Again, boundary or opportunity?
I cannot speak for anyone else, but in my life I remember seeing in the distance what were surely insurmountable obstacles. As they came closer, they still seemed overwhelming. The end of the high diving board, making the team, Dr. Ashby in graduate school, a boss I could not please, trying to make a living in 1986 with $10 per barrel, my own stubbornness. Through grace, and maybe some hard work, I made it over, around, or through those barriers, and once overcome, they became very important life lessons. I learned perseverance, tact, and maybe even some patience.
Maybe the boundaries in our lives we put there ourselves. I know I do. About nine months ago, when things first started to head south for me medically, I had three different doctors mention a transplant as a possible option. No thank you, no thanks, thanks but no. Not for me, I can beat this heart thing. Anyway, I knew first-hand the possibility of a stroke, and that was a deal breaker. And right there I built a 10-foot-tall boundary. No transplant, no way, no how. But, about five or six months ago, I had a very frank conversation with Rebecca. I think I was at the farm. We were having dinner together like we often do at the end of a long, hard, productive day, and I asked her what she thought of me maybe getting a heart transplant. She said except for the stroke risk, it might be worth doing. Look at how we all would benefit if it worked. And except for the stroke thing, what’s the worst that can happen? I die and am in heaven. So we decided on a plan to deal with a bad stroke, discussed it with the whole family over Easter, and the boundary I created was dismantled and the many fine folks at Seton went to work. I am pretty sure I was their only “needs-a-heart” patient, at least it seemed that way.
Easy to say for the guy with the new heart. Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t know why I got this heart; others needed it just as much or more. I don’t know why I got this second chance either. Make no mistake about it; my medical battles are certainly not over. I will be on some of these meds for the rest of my life. There will be things I cannot do again, boundaries of a sort to be sure. But for each of those, a dozen new beginnings, new adventures, new perspectives, new priorities.
Paige and I have been away from our friends in Midland for many months now. Austin was a necessity, and Creede is an important place for Paige to get a breather and for me to gather myself and prepare for life again. Many friends who have not seen me ask, “How are you doing, really?” I am doing great. I get up early and fix my own breakfast, update my spreadsheets on medications, weight, calorie intake, etc. I am working to get completely off the pain medications, but some days it still hurts where they sawed me in half. OK, I learn something from the pain; I don’t celebrate it, but I try and learn. I very much need to gain back some weight. From last November 1, I have lost 31 pounds. The weight is slowly coming back, and with it some perspective: There are others out there, Ed, that struggle and hurt way more than you ever did. Maybe you better think about that. I am trying to regain strength and some semblance of muscle mass. Hard to do too much because of the parting of the sternum, but the strength is slowly coming back. I can actually open a pickle jar for Paige. And with the strength in my hands and arms and legs, it seems like I am getting wisdom about things I might have paid more attention to the past 63 years.
I tried real hard for many years to teach our girls to be all they could. I would tell them they could do anything. Now I am trying to learn that lesson, again.
No boundaries.
Live well, like a meteor is coming.
ed
“I like geography best, he said, because your mountains & rivers know the secret. Pay no attention to boundaries.”
—BRIAN ANDREAS
[Song #11. Attached to this email was a link to “How Can You Mend a Broken Heart” by the Bee Gees.]
From: Ed Innerarity
Sent: Thursday, August 20, 2015 7:12 PM
Subject: K-T BOUNDARY UPDATE
No known connection, but shortly after I was at the K-T boundary site yesterday with my trusty rock hammer, there was a 4.2 earthquake at the same locale. I had suspected that when we mess with life’s boundaries, things get shaken up a bit. Maybe more than a bit. Of course, it was probably just a coincidence.
Live well, like we might shake things up.
ed
From: Joe Gifford
Sent: Monday, August 24, 2015 3:15 PM
Subject: Re: K-T BOUNDARY
Dear Ed —
Well, oil hit $35 per barrel posted today and the “experts” say that this may not be the bottom. But you need not worry because, after reading your unique epistles, you certainly have potential as a best-selling author. I was fascinated by your knowledge of the K-T boundary separating the Cretaceous and the Tertiary. Since you have gone in search of this boundary in the rocks, which tell us the complete history of the earth, you would be fascinated by the book Earth in Upheaval by Immanuel Velikovsky (available at Amazon) that I picked up in a corner bookstore next to our apartment in Paris in 1962. Would that all of the global warming nuts could read this! I met with our Bishop last week with several other oil people to talk about the Pope’s encyclical on global warming. I was able to get some things off my chest, which helped my atrial fibrillation. So glad to hear that things are going well health wise for you and that you and Paige are not here enjoying our 104 degree days.
Joe
From: Pam Stoltz
Sent: Thursday, August 20, 2015 8:15 PM
Subject: Re: K-T BOUNDARY
Like a meteor’s coming . . . I’m gonna remember that.
From: Lisa Mink
Sent: Thursday, August 20, 2015 9:26 PM
Subject: Re: K-T BOUNDARY
One of the best reads so far. Loved it!!!!
Lisa
From: Paige Innerarity
Sent: Thursday, August 20, 2015 10:27 PM
Subject: NATURAL LIGHT
Dear All,
Leaving behind the heat of Texas for the mountains and water of southern Colorado seemed like a really good time to give you all (and myself ) a break from emails. As much as I enjoy writing, I find myself feeling self-conscious about sharing what is going on with us post-transplant. When does sharing become over-sharing? I shudder to think that I am guilty of that! Anyway, I did have some thoughts hit me gently between the eyes when I was hiking with Babe today that I wanted to tap out.
I have always been a fan of natural light. The houses we have lived in over the years usually had big windows, skylights, and minimum window treatments. One of the first things we did with our cabin in Colorado was to have the tiny windows removed. Next, in a rather dramatic fashion, larger holes were chain-sawed in the logs so that we could have big windows and “Let the Sunshine In.” We raised the ceilings, the walls were slathered with a vanilla bean shade of plaster, and our cabin was filled with glorious, natural light. It makes me happy. It makes me calm. My attitude lightens, and I can think more clearly and see more clearly.
One of the very best things about being in the mountains is watching the light change during the day. Clouds and trees and even the time of year change the natural light. Walking in a stand of aspen trees is entirely different from walking in a high meadow or a forest of spruce trees. Morning light is nothing like the afternoon. Ed can tell you that the light has a profound effect on the fishing, and why. I don’t know about that, really. I just know I love to watch the changes
during the day, the week, the season—it fascinates me!
Since November 1st, our family has undergone profound change. Sometimes, it seemed like we were shaken up in a Yahtzee dice cup and thrown on a board in a new configuration every few hours. There is no natural light in that dice cup. There is precious little natural light in most hospitals and doctors’ offices. Ed and I did find a fifth-floor patio at Seton where we could be outside while he was still in intensive care. We spent lots of time there.
So, what is my point? I guess I am saying that for me, for those I love, maybe for most people, I highly recommend getting outside to be your best self. My children can attest to my belief (because they have heard me espousing it FOREVER) that playing outside and drinking plenty of water will pretty much clear the mental cobwebs and go a long way in settling one’s emotions.
Of course, a new heart was necessary for Ed, as well as proper hydration and sunshine. Medicine, ongoing medical procedures, and monitoring are part of his life forever, and we are grateful for the miracles that have been achieved by the dedicated pioneers of research in heart disease and transplant. But, how wonderful to see this man who was dying before my eyes restored to health, to the life he loves! I can see him so clearly in this place that is a spiritual stronghold for our family, in the natural light.
Love and Grace,
Paige
From: Ed Innerarity
Sent: Tuesday, September 1, 2015 9:46 PM
Subject: PATIENT’S BELONGINGS
Team,
On most of my surgical trips and for every biopsy, the routine is similar. After check-in, I am escorted back to the pre-op place and asked to put on a hospital gown, and I am given a bag to put my clothes in. I get the clothes back afterward. My clothes, my bag. In fact, the amply sized plastic bag is clearly labeled (in reassuring hospital blue) PATIENT’S BELONGINGS. Not that anyone should want my dedicated hospital sneakers or my lucky golf shirt. I have collected several such bags. Back to the Patient’s Belongings bag later.
Today is opening day of dove season in Texas. I am one day short of 60 days post-transplant. My cardiothoracic surgeon, Dr. Hunter Kirkland, was at first reluctant to allow me to hunt birds this soon after the chest sawing. Something about the repeated firing and recoil that close to the cut area and besides the season opens only 59 days post-op. So I made a deal; I will use the smallest shotgun made (.410 for those of you that know about these things) and light loads and I will stop if anything feels out of place. Deal! The planning begins.
My good friend, Barry Beal, was similarly coerced into inviting me to their place opening day. I was there eight minutes after sun-up. So were thousands of white wings (a very special and desired type of dove). I had also been warned not to handle the birds barehanded and to wear gloves and a mask when cleaning them. Deal. So I wear a work glove on my non-shooting hand, so as Babe brings the birds back I collect them from her in the gloved hand and put them into the sack. The plastic sack. The plastic sack from the hospital for Patient’s Belongings. (If necessary, please refer to paragraph 1 above.)
I kind of liked the symmetry of using that same hospital bag for my first limit of doves. And it made me wonder: What are my belongings?? What are yours? I have a .410, and I also have friends. More friends than white-winged doves it seems. I have my lucky “today is biopsy day” golf shirt, and I also have a new heart, a new perspective, and a new dove season. How many of my belongings will fit in that bag? I have three wonderful daughters that are smart and strong-willed and independent, like Paige. I have hope. Is there room in that bag for hope? I have memories of doing lots of fun things with the family and with friends. I have the opportunity to make more memories, with my new heart, my new granddaughter, my great family, and my white-winged abundant friends. Pretty sure we are going to need another bag.
Live well, like you are going to need another bag.
ed
P.S. Paige is trying a new way of cooking doves, on the grill, with fresh jalapeños and heart-healthy bacon.
From: Paige Innerarity
Sent: Tuesday, September 1, 2015 10:30 PM
Subject: Re: PATIENT’S BELONGINGS
Dear All,
I must amend the recipe reference to “heart-healthy bacon.” No, it was just good ole thick-cut bacon. I did use just a third of a slice per bird, however.
Love, Grace, and Bacon Always,
Paige
From: Ed Innerarity
Sent: Wednesday, September 16, 2015 7:59 PM
Subject: RECENT HEART TRANSPLANT
Dr. Kirkland,
I am Lloyd Innerarity (11-06-51) and I received a heart transplant on July 2 of this year. We met only minutes before the surgery and again for my 30-day post-op check-up. In a sentence, I am doing great. You allowed me to hunt if I used a .410, which I did. I have regained most of my weight and am working steadily on regaining strength. My seven biopsies (#8 is early next Wednesday) have gone well with almost no rejection.
But more than just an update, I wanted to say thank you. I refuse to accept that I was just another transplant; I felt like the only transplant patient. Many friends ask, and I tell them honestly that after the first few days the pain was very tolerable. You may recall that I had a picture of me fly fishing in Alaska that I wanted to tape on my chest and ask you to help me get back there. Maybe no Alaska yet, but I have been able to fly fish at our place in Colorado.
Not just because things have gone so well thus far, but because I have been entrusted with a fresh heart that came from another man; with your help, I hope to be the best possible host for many years to come.
Again, many thanks.
L. Edward Innerarity, Jr.
Midland, Texas
From: Hunter Kirkland
Sent: Friday, September 18, 2015 1:15 PM
Subject: Heart Txplant
Hello Mr. Innerarity,
I just wanted to let you know I’ll definitely come meet you. Always very gratifying to have that conversation—I am indescribably pleased that you are doing so well. Why don’t you text me when you get to pre-op? It might also serve to get me out of a Transplant Committee meeting . . .
Best Regards,
HQK
[Dr. Kirkland and I did indeed meet as he came by pre-op the following week right as I was being prepped for biopsy #8.]
From: Ed Innerarity
Sent: Sunday, November 8, 2015 6:00 PM
Subject: SURPRISE BIRTHDAY
Friends and Family,
OK, not really a total surprise birthday. But it was a surprise that Brian, Kate, and Niam [our “grandson” from not-official son Brian Batch] showed up. Baron and Caroline also made it. I had been told the Batch men could not make it and Paige’s sister has been there every minute of this adventure, so it was extra-special to see her too.
It has been four months since the big event, and we gathered at the Biltmore in Arizona this weekend. We have many things to celebrate, including the birthday we thought I might not have. I turned 64 on Friday: 11-06-51. (At the hospital they have asked me for my date of birth hundreds of times. My correct answer was usually followed by being handed a hospital gown and having something sharp inserted in one of my veins or being asked to lie very still and try to relax.) With any luck, this will be my last such birthday because I am planning on observing my birthday on the day my donor was born. I have been told almost nothing about my donor. Out of respect for the donor’s family, they will obviously have all the time they need before I might hear from them. In fact, there is every possibility that they might choose not to meet me at all. But that does not alter the fact that if not for the donor’s supreme act of generosity and selflessness, this most certainly would have been my last 11-06-51. All future birthdays, anniversaries, Christmases, Thanksgivings, meteor showers, firework shows, road trips, hay cuttings, rounds of golf, mornings on the river, days on the trail, nights in a tent, time with family, time with friends are possible because of his heart. And because of my fantastic team o
f professionals at Seton Hospital. And because of all the support I have received from all of you.
We had a great time—wonderful long meals together, two grandchildren, family grudge tennis match, swimming, croquet, family walks, millions of pictures, giant chess on the lawn. But mostly being together and laughing.
My new heart did not come with a guarantee, to be sure; “as is, where is,” buyer beware, all sales are final. It is still up to me to be a good host, stay in shape, take my meds, eat right, and stay healthy. I plan to be a good steward of my new heart for many years, but I take each new day as the bonus it really is. I am somewhere between not buying green bananas and planting a pecan orchard to harvest 20 years from now. I am thankful for each new sunrise; while praying for a long and full life for my new heart. Let there be no doubt, I am doing so well that I lean toward the pecan orchard most of the time. I am almost back to what I weighed before and have regained my strength and endurance. I feel like a new person, probably because I am. And I think it is only fitting that my new birthday be celebrated on the birthday of my donor and his heart. Maybe it’s my life, but this second chance is due to his heart.
The other reason I think I have done so well is that I had the best family support. The Best. And the most caring and devoted of nurses. The Best. Absolutely the hardest working and skilled doctors. Absolutely. And the most patient of rehab folks. I went to one transplant support group meeting shortly after getting on the waiting list. Next month there is the big annual Christmas meeting. I am really looking forward to it. I hope to see the Romanian guy that got his heart a few weeks before me; he was a very big help in preparing me. I hope to see the others in my transplant “group” who have gotten hearts, are still waiting, or have gotten a mechanical assist device, the external heart pump I call the heart mate. Much to celebrate with them too. Everybody it seems is going to be having a new birthday.