I was 65 years old when symptoms became severe enough and health insurance changed enough (to Medicare) that I was able to speak to my primary care physician. I thought I had lung problems due to severe shortness of breath after activity. I was immediately referred to a cardiologist, followed by echo cardiogram and cardiac catheterization. The last test occurred on Wednesday afternoon and I had open heart surgery first thing on Friday. I was born with an aortic valve "designed to fail" -- with only two 'leaves' or 'flaps' instead of the necessary three. The valve had stenosed with a 'root' that had also worn out from overwork with insufficient parts. A doctor told my parents, when I was about 6 years old, that I had a "split heart beat" which he said was like being born with an ugly face -- "It's harmless and there's nothing that can be done about it anyway" -- my mother thought the diagnosis sounded troublesome and spoke to doctors about it over the years with no helpful response. I was given an E.K.G. reading (I think that's what it was) at about age 10 or 11 (1958 or '59) and it was "inconclusive." Aside from scaring me badly, due to overbearing and unkind behavior on the part of the tester and staff, it was otherwise unmemorable as no one ever told me what the test was about or the outcome. In all the years I had my heart and lungs listened to by all manner of health care workers, no one remarked on my heart function. When I finally described the inability to breathe and the shooting pains coming up from my chest into my shoulders, neck and jaw after medium exertion, a physician filling in for the usual staff, excused herself and returned with an appointment with a cardiologist and a prescription for nitro glycerin tablets. The heart specialist listened to my heart for what felt like a long time, but probably not more than 2 minutes. He set up the echocardiogram appointment, but I received no report or follow up except a remark by the check-out staffer that I'd probably need a heart cath. I didn't know what that was. A few weeks later, I got a phone call at work from the doctor's assistant wanting to know why I didn't have an appointment for a cath. I shrugged it off and that's when she told me that my heart valve was 'seriously deficient' and I would need open heart surgery to repair it. I was hiding in an empty manager's office so no one would know I' was taking a personal call at work and was stunned and overwhelmed. I told her it was out of the question. I am the caregiver for my disabled husband and we had big family obligations out of town soon. She was adamant that I come for a cath immediately upon our return and that I should make arrangements for my care. One daughter had been urging me to go to the doctor for over a year because 'mom, you are really messed up." Explanations that I'm just old and overweight did not deter her. With a catheterization lab set up, the other daughter made arrangements to come home. I look back on that as a benign vortex inexplicably appearing. I had not sought it. In the months after my recovery, I attended a lecture on congenitally deformed aortic valves and advances in their repair. The speaker was my own surgeon. He showed a chart of how a bad valve could go for years without symptoms, followed by onset of syncope. Once that symptom began, the risk of survival fell quickly, sudden death rose sharply. Later at home, I googled syncope. It is the sudden loss of consciousness due to lack of oxygen to the brain. I called it 'falling down" having 'awakened' on the floor of my kitchen, in the driveway, other places -- alone and grateful for the peace and quiet to calm down and have a moment to myself. Twice it occurred while driving -- a friend patting my hand and asked why I was dozing, not having had alcohol at dinner. Once I crossed a line of traffic, hit a curb and 'woke up' looking into a police flashlight. They thought my tire had blown and indeed it had a huge hole, but the mechanic said the tire didn't fail, it hit something hard. These events occurred about six months or so before surgery and each incident made me feel incredibly stupid and irresponsible and I shared them with no one. Only after the lecture did I realize how close I had come to death. I hope this account may be of some help. Thank you for reading it.
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\ Diviney
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