A SIGNIFICANT 41ST ANNIVERSARY

August 15, 1965…

They brought the mask close to my face and the last thing I remember was someone saying, “Count backwards from 100…”

Just short of my twelfth birthday I was about to have my chest cracked open, my ribcage spread apart, and a lung temporarily removed so the heart surgeon could correct a recently discovered birth defect…a coarc in my aorta.

Spring, 1965

All the sixth graders in the Long Beach Unified School District were going through the usual tradition of having physicals in preparation for going to school camp. It was something we looked forward to all through sixth grade. Soon our class would go up to a camp in the mountains for a week of nature and science studies. For most of us it would be our first time going away to camp. But first, all the kids needed to have a physical which was administered by some kindly doctor the school brought in. He couldn’t really do much because he had so many kids to look at. In my case, he didn’t need to do much at all.

Summer, 1965

I was taken to the family doctor. I couldn’t figure it out. I felt fine. What I didn’t know was that the school physical had revealed a blood pressure reading of 220/180. Something wasn’t right. They needed to find out why my blood pressure was so high. What really bothered me at that point was that they wouldn’t let me play baseball all summer. I had made the major division of our Little League and was supposed to play for Douglas Aircraft. Had to sit out the whole summer.

Our family doctor sent me on to a heart specialist who started a battery of tests that were rather scary. First, I had to save all my urine for a week. Those were the days when milk was delivered to the house in glass bottles. I peed in one of those milk bottles for a whole week. If you think carrying a urine sample through the waiting room is embarrassing, how do you think I felt walking into the office with a whole milk bottle full of urine?

They seemed to have some trouble figuring out what my problem was. One day I had to go to the hospital and have a bunch of heart specialists examine me individually. I guess they were hoping to come up with a common diagnosis without consulting with each other. By the end of that day I was so sick of being poked and groped that I never wanted to see the inside of a hospital again!

Finally they decided to do a heart catheterization. I had to be admitted to the hospital for that one. It was way worse than the surgery itself! I had to be awake for this test. They made about a one inch incision on the inside of my right arm just above the elbow and slipped the tube into the artery. They shoved that tube all the way up and then down to my heart and then injected radioactive dye into it. There was a nurse standing by my head talking to me and trying to distract me the whole time. It still hurt like crazy! It just burned and burned and I didn’t think it would ever be over!

That test did it. They were able to see the dye backing up at the aorta. It seems I was born with a coarc (pinch) in my aorta right near where the aorta attaches to the heart. My heart was working way too hard trying to pump the blood to my lower extremities. The doctors all nodded at each other and agreed that this was the reason they couldn’t find a pulse in my groin or feet. Not enough blood was getting down there. It had to be fixed.

They decided to go through my left ribcage. They could pry my ribs far enough apart to take out a lung and do the surgery that way.

It was a tough summer. The Dodgers were on their way to winning the National League pennant. (They would beat the Minnesota Twins in the World Series that October.) The Dodgers sponsored a contest for kids who would keep a scorecard for every game that summer. With all my appointments and hospital visits I missed a few games. The Watts riots were in full swing. As for me, I was going into Long Beach Memorial Hospital for heart surgery!

August 15, 1965

Actually, I don’t know what the date was when I woke up in the Intensive Care Unit. I don’t remember much, really. My parents were there. Our pastor came in once and prayed over me. I had a drainage tube in my left side. The nurses kept trying to get me to cough. They told me that if I couldn’t clear my own lungs I would have to stay in ICU. There was a girl in the next bed who coughed better than I did. She got out first. My chest just hurt too bad.

I was on some serious painkillers. I don’t know what they were, but I hated them. I was having horrible dreams and time seemed to stop. I remember one dream I had. The hospital maintenance guys came into the ICU to paint it while I was lying there. They covered everything up except for my bed. Then they proceeded to paint the unit with all kinds of psychedelic colors. I kept asking what time it was and the nurse got sick of telling me. Seems I was asking the time about every minute. That was my first and only experience with hard drugs.

I finally got out of ICU and into a room. The one thing I really remember clearly is that my feet always felt hot. I couldn’t figure it out. Finally a doctor told me that I was getting strong circulation in my feet for the first time and my feet felt hot because of that.

I think I was in the hospital for about seven or eight days. I really can’t remember now. I got a lot of attention and everyone was really nice to me when I got home.

September 9, 1965

My twelfth birthday. My dad wanted to treat me to something really special so he took my Grandpa Larson and me up to Dodger Stadium to see the Dodgers play the Cubs. That was the night Sandy Koufax pitched his perfect game. Yes, I was there.

I started 7th grade at Leland Stanford Junior High. Amazingly, I played football that fall. All of my post op check ups were fine. Now my high blood pressure must be due to stress!

Forty one years ago tomorrow. I remember the date every year and thank God for the years he has given me.

Thanks for stopping by. You guys are all great!