She Had a Heart Attack at 35. Part Two of Dawn’s Story.
So if you read last week’s post, you already about Dawn. She had a heart attack at 35 when she suffered a spontaneous dissection of an artery; which sounds exactly as scary as it was.
THIS kind of scary.
Let’s jump forward two years. Dawn is doing well. Her heart, though always going to be a bit weak, is on the mend. She has lots of stuff going on in her life and she’s generally kicking ass and taking names. She knows how to recognize symptoms now, which is how, when she had another heart attack, she knew to get herself to the hospital. As scary as that may seem, this one wasn’t nearly as bad and since she already knew the signs, she knew to treat them with respect. Here’s what happened:
May 2016
Thank you, everyone, for your well wishes. They mean so much to me. I am home and resting. I want to start at the beginning of the story, but it’s hard to define where that is because this is essentially a sequel story and it’s far more boring than the first. ☺
In May 2014, my right coronary artery spontaneously dissected, which means its innermost layer ripped about a finger length. That ripped flap blocked blood from flowing to my heart, causing a moderate heart attack in which the lower part of my heart died. In emergency surgery, my cardiologist placed four overlapping, drug-eluding stents, reinforcing the artery and saving my life. The healing process from this experience was very long. It took about two and a half to three months for my body to remove the dead materials, my lower heart to scar over, and my artery to absorb the cyber parts. I also began taking a bunch of medication and could expect to do so for the rest of my life (so not my favorite thing).
If you want more details about that experience, I’m linking in the comments to my post from 2014.
On Thursday, I had a minor heart attack, causing no lasting damage. My family was eating dinner and I began to feel a slow burn of pain across my chest. I decided to go put on looser clothing in case that was the culprit. Since my first heart attack, I now experience chest pains and pricks and aches frequently, so it’s tough to tell whether this time it might be real. Within minutes the pain spread from armpit to armpit and felt like a snake squeezing my upper body. The pain began traveling down both arms. This felt just like the first time but lacked all the other symptoms, such as the sweating and vomiting.
We didn’t want to take any chances, so we went to St. Pete’s ER, where I was instantly taken back and given an EKG, which showed nothing despite the intense pain I was experiencing at the time. (I have little faith in these machines now. I was actively having a heart attack and it didn’t pick it up.)
Anyway, the pain started at 6:05 and suddenly stopped at 7:20 or so for no obvious reason. I started to feel stupid for wasting everyone’s time. Now we had to wait six hours in the ER for a second blood test to check my troponin numbers. Upon entrance, it showed nothing. They prepared my discharge papers, and James and I sat around waiting to be released. Six hours later, the numbers showed heart strain/damage and I was admitted to the cardiac ward. The number continued to grow through the night.
The next day, I was taken into the cath lab and had an angiogram. Being the giant baby I am, I asked to be drugged to the nine moons so I didn’t have to be aware of them threading through my system and into my heart. They complied.
Here’s what they discovered: My arteries are gorgeous and squeaky clean except for the two to three inches of stenting, which is gathering plaque. A piece of that plaque broke off and smacked into my heart, causing the heart attack. It thankfully dissolved, releasing the pressure, before any permanent damage could occur.
So I’m a bit tired, like following a wicked flu, but that’s it. One medication’s dosage has been increased, and I was sternly reminded to take all my pills at the same time every single day, something I haven’t been great about. My inconsistency didn’t cause the heart attack, but it sure didn’t help things either.
Here’s the good news:
- Manmade parts not functioning as human arteries do essentially caused this heart attack. That makes sense to me and gives me hope that eventually science will improve stents, and I’ll be able to have better cyber parts.
- I didn’t have another spontaneous dissection, which is what I fear most these days.
- The angiogram showed that my arteries look very healthy except for that area of stenting.
- I now know that despite having two different types of heart attacks, the pain felt the same for me, giving me more data to use when self-monitoring. And data is always good.
What now? I go back to my regularly scheduled life. I can’t pick up anything heavier than 5 pounds for the next week, which makes things difficult with Baby A, who doesn’t understand why I won’t pick him up when he asks. I plan to go back to work right away. I might just do half days for the first few days as I get my energy back. I take all my pills on schedule and keep extras in my purse.
Oh, in case you’re wondering, I’m 37.
Thank you for sharing your story, Dawn.
She Had a Heart Attack at 35.
Everyone talks about the secretly skyrocketing rates of heart disease in women. About how women experience radically different symptoms than men. And that we should all be aware. But that’s where things sort of stop. Yes, the symptoms are different – but how different? What should we be looking for? Nausea? Hot flashes? Arm pain? Shoulder pain? WHAT?!?
According to this stock photo, it’s mostly about clutching your left breast.
Two years ago, a friend of mine suffered a heart attack. She was 35 at the time. It was shocking and horrible and very, very scary. How could a woman as young and healthy as Dawn, have a heart attack?
Thankfully, Dawn survived. And in order to answer everyone’s panicked questions all at once, she did us the selfless favor of writing it all down. Here is part one of her story:
May 2014
So I’m not sure about who knows what, so I figured I’d tell the whole story here. First of all, my husband saved my life when he made the decision to get help for me right away. The doctor said I would have died had he not acted as he did. We are incredibly fortunate that James was even home, since he’s still commuting between Berkeley and Olympia, because I was not in any state to make a call for myself and the rest of the household was asleep.
Anyway, about 7 Sunday morning, I woke suddenly feeling overwhelmingly hot. My entire body burst out in sweat, so much so that it started rolling off me. James woke to me shifting around—a miracle in itself since he’s such a heavy sleeper. From shoulder to shoulder, my chest convulsed painfully. I remember very little after this point. James says I tried to get up but fell over on the bed, staring at him blankly. I do remember vomiting several times.
He called the nurse hotline for our insurance and then 911. The paramedics arrived. I don’t know what they did while they were in the house. I just remember lots of questions and expressions of shock. “She’s 35; she can’t be having a heart attack!” I heard variations of that statement all morning.
Apparently, I was rushed to the ER and directly into surgery. I don’t remember a lot of anything—except the endless extreme pain. James, however, is surely going to have PTSD after this. I think it’s far more difficult to be the person or people on the outside, totally coherent, while a loved one balances on the edge than it is to be the loved one.
I do remember one point during the surgery when the surgeon said, “Oh! Now I see.” And then explained what had happened to me to the rest of the people in the operating room. At the time, I didn’t follow. The following day, it was explained to me:
An artery has three layers. The innermost layer is super slick, so blood can zoom through it without catching on anything. The next layer provides the structural integrity of the artery, and the outside layer provides the strength. Anyway, I had some sort of anomaly somewhere on the inside layer—perhaps a tiny bump or kink (we’ll never know)—that became the source of the problem. My blood rushed by it over and over and it eventually tore open and kept tearing. The blood then began rushing between the two innermost layers of the artery, which caused the blockage that ultimately led to the heart attack. The spiral tear in my artery is about the length of a pointer finger. Ironically, the surgeon said that if my arteries hadn’t been so darn healthy, the tear wouldn’t have been so bad. Meaning, if I had had plaque in my arteries, the three layers of the artery would have held together better.
Interestingly, the entire surgery was done through the artery in my upper thigh through an incision maybe a centimeter long. Using dye, a camera, and other high-tech instruments, the doctor installed four stents in the artery across the lower portion of my heart. The technical terms for what happened are “dissected artery” and “moderate heart attack.”
Essentially, when you have a heart attack, blood and therefore oxygen stop reaching a portion of the heart. The portion of the heart that is deprived long enough dies. So a portion of my lower heart died, which is really weird to wrap my head around. My body will naturally rid itself of some of the dead material, and the damaged place where healthy heart was last week will scar over. That’s what my body is working to do now. My heart will never be as strong as it was, despite the majority of it still being healthy. The doctor says it’ll be my weakness but that everyone has something. That said, it’s not like I was ever going to be a marathoner. ☺
Anyway, it all sounds very scary, and it was very scary. I didn’t know whether I was going to die, but I was incredibly comforted knowing that I have some primo life insurance that would have ensured my family was fiscally safe for years to come.
The bottom line is that I didn’t do anything wrong. No behavior or choices on my part led to this episode. It just happened. It’s incredibly rare, but every few years someone healthy gets hit with a heart attack. According to the doctor, that person is almost always a young woman. He said stress had absolutely nothing to do with it and wouldn’t cause another one. He said my arteries and all of my major organs are in beautiful condition. This episode was akin to getting hit by lightning or having a tree fall on you in the forest. It’s senseless.
And following my stress test in three or four weeks, I will have no restrictions on my activities or diet. I’ve been told to take it easy for a couple weeks and then jump back into my life. May I go hiking alone in the woods? Absolutely. May I drive long distances? No problem. May I fly? Yep. May I drink alcohol? No problem. May I, May I, May I, yes, yes, yes. The only no I was given was in relation to my chiropractic care. Because I’ll be on blood thinners for the next couple years (and other pills for the rest of my life), I can’t have chiropractic adjustments that could lead to joint bleeding.
All in all, I’m okay now. I’m tremendously tired and have slept the majority of the past three days. I’m pretty sure the morphine is mostly out of my system, but I’m not positive. I was practically swimming in it for days. The pain is mostly gone and the doctor says I am healing remarkably fast. In that way, it’s definitely good to be young.
Mostly, aside from feeling surprised, I’m feeling incredibly grateful for the instant care and support all of you surrounded us with. When a community comes together, it’s a special and powerful thing. And I can’t express to you all how much your words of kindness and comfort, prayers and warm wishes, and delivered meals mean to us. At times like these, knowing you’re not alone—and that if the worst happens, your loved ones won’t be alone—is invaluable. So thank you so much for being a part of our lives.
This isn’t the end. Tune in next week for the rest of her story.
Around Town: