Fear and Loathing in the Cath Lab

 

Saturday Guest–Jonathan Siger

 

For those of you who may have wondered why I’ve seemed so mysteriously pre-occupied over the past ten days or so, here’s a post put up by my Hunter S. Thompson admiring son, Rabbi Jonathan Siger, to set the record straight. 

 

–Jeff

 

For many people, the sounds of modern country music in the background as a team of physicians wind a tiny wire through your cardiovascular system into the middle of your aorta might be disconcerting.  This, however, is Houston— and what’s more, it’s Houston during rodeo season. So, the sense of ‘everything is normal’ that the soundtrack provided was welcome, and most certainly a better choice than say, Barber’s “Adagio for Strings”, or probably anything my 14-year-old daughter would pick. “Let’s get the surgical team pumped up with some driving beats mixed with heavily distorted guitar and incoherent screaming.” No, in my experience, that is the kind of music you use for root canals, not heart catheterization.  

 

In any case, regardless of genre or mood, any musical choice would be preferable to the words I overheard a little over a week ago as I lay on a table under a collection of sensors and imaging technology, with aforementioned tiny wire snooping around the depths of my heart.  “Uh-Oh.”  

 

The next words I heard were “I want you to consult with a surgeon I trust” and “I am really glad we did this.”

 

The next morning, I sat in one of those towers I have visited often as a rabbi and chaplain in Houston’s venerable and venerated complex of hospitals and medical research facilities.  This time, however, I was a potential triple-bypass patient.  Despite the constant and consistent reassurance from all my doctors that this wasn’t an emergency, merely just really, really urgent, it all felt very much like an emergency to me.

 

And it was shocking even if it wasn’t a surprise.  I’d had no symptoms I’d recognize, only some general fatigue.  My desire to get checked out was brought on by a few instances of a rapid heartbeat that were easily explained by too much coffee, too much social media, and not enough sleep. Still, I have a very strong family history of heart problems that show up around my age, and so off we went for some testing. 

 

All my tests and blood work came back normal.  Except for one my cardiologist had strongly suggested that’s known as a “Calcium Score.”  It wasn’t covered by insurance, but he felt it was valuable because it can indicate problems that might escape the view of traditional tests.  That test probably saved my life.  A score of 400 indicates a high risk of adverse cardiovascular incident.  I scored 2800.  If you are reading this, consider having one done.  If it weren’t for that test, I would not have known the danger I was in.  God bless my cardiologist for pushing me to have that test.  

 

One of the advantages of family history is that it sometimes involves family friends or physicians.  In this case one and the same.   Thirty years ago, my father, the author of the internationally recognized, best-selling “Chief Inspector Andreas Kaldis” series with #13, AT ANY COST, now available everywhere fine mysteries are found, was one of the clinical trial patients treated by NYC-based Dr. Jeffrey W. Moses. Dr. Moses has continued to work at the forefront of this kind of treatment using stents to clear life-threatening blockages where in the past (and even today!) many would use bypass.  And so, in keeping with the theme of “if it isn’t an emergency why is everyone working so fast?” I was on the next flight to NYC, where, one week on from the first catheterization, a team that specializes in high-risk stent procedures did their thing. 

 

It was a remarkable thing to experience these highly skilled professionals at the cutting edge of their field work together.  I did notice there was no music playing, and while I missed the “country top 40” in the background, I figured if a guy named Moses is operating on a rabbi, I could safely relax without it.  

 

It used to be I would come visit my father and he would make me stack firewood or carry bags of cement mix down to the basement of the farm.  Since I’m older now than he was back in those days, and I’m on light-duty for the next week, I figured the least I can do to help the not-so-old man out is write a blog post.

 

Jonathan–for Dad