Miami – I didn’t really want to have heart surgery. Who wants their chests cut off and carved like a turkey in the middle of an epidemic hot zone? But I did it in August.
The main artery of the body, an uncontrolled aneurysm in my artery, also quietly bul. For more than a year, blood pressure pills helped manage it.
In January, the coronavirus – which had spread to parts of Asia – still seemed like a distant problem.
My cardiologist said it’s time. On his advice, I consulted with the Chief of Columbia University, Department of Cardiac and Thoracic Surgery, Mount Sinai Medical Center, Miami Beach. Asked another opinion from Steve Zaidas, who specializes in aortic aneurysms.
Dr. Zaidas agreed, as surgery was necessary, as I had two uncles who died of aneurysms and mine grew five centimeters. Any big, and I would risk a crash.
He asked me to repair the valve spare aortic root, a procedure that involves cutting the aneurysm and grafting a soft cloth. Given my age (I was 46) and overall good health (I am a runner), I would be a good candidate.
He suggested late spring for surgery. Now you know what happened next.
When I was in Miami, I lived in New York City, where I contracted coronavirus in March and April. Hospitals were filled with people who were seriously ill and had died from Covid-19, a disease caused by a virus. Anxiety and uncertainty await me. The New York Times, where I am a journalist, turned to remote work, keeping its newsroom closed. I returned to Florida temporarily.
I was not alone in wondering what to do about my surgery. Across the country, people like me suffer from other health problems like heart issue or cancer whether to delay or cancel important or time-sensitive procedures that can save our lives. At the time, many hospitals canceled alternative surgery due to an increase in cases of coronavirus. But as virus safety measures were implemented, alternative surgeries eventually resumed.
I always had my plans to keep on Mount Sinai in South South Florida, where I have friends, family and friends. But the coronavirus was also becoming a hot spot in the region. In April, the 39-year-old sheriff’s deputy became the first Florida law enforcement officer to die from the virus. Many tourists who visited Miami Beach for a circuit party and a spring break returned to the infected home. As of April 11, more than 17,500 cases of coronavirus and about 400 deaths had been confirmed in Florida.
Covid-19 scared the hell out of me. But the inner voice tormented me to schedule the surgery anyway. Every time I ran, I couldn’t help but the aneurysm growing, waiting for the explosion.
According to Columbia University Irving Medical Center in New York, aortic aneurysms are most common in men over the age of 30. Medications for blood pressure or surgery are the main treatment for aneurysms. The Covid-19 was new, and there was no solution.
I didn’t know what was worse, a quiet grenade or virus in my mind, but I wanted to control my situation.
In early July, I made an appointment to plan the process. At the entrance to the hospital, a staff member took my temperature, asked why I was there and if I had any Covid-19 symptoms (I don’t).
Dr. X. Zaidas recommended repairs as early as possible, not an emergency but a choice. He gently explained that the Covid-19 patients were kept separately in the old department of the hospital. My surgery and recovery will be in the new surgical tower.
I was reassured. It seemed that the hospital could be the safest place during an epidemic. The date was set – 17 August.
The next day, a nurse tested me for the virus. Negative. The next morning, I had the procedure. Success. The aneurysm was removed. No leaks from the article.
When I got there I took other safety measures that increased my peace of mind. I had my own room in the intensive care unit. Employees don masks, change gloves and use hand sanitizer whenever they visit. Local newscasts kept me close to epidemic development, and I am grateful that I am in a safe environment.
Two days later, I was in another private room that was erased, always every day. I was isolated from other patients, except when I watched from a distance while walking with the doctors. The halls were mostly empty.
Like many hospitals across the country, Mount Sinai also restricted most visitors. My family and friends were not allowed to see me, but Kelly Clarkson and Phil McGraw kept me in company with their TV chatter.
Five days later, I was given leave. When the assistant took me out of the hospital, the nurses and patients greeted me.
Despite the soreness under the five inch scar on my chest, I knew I would be fine. So far, I am – and thankful.
