"And, now, for something completely different.” Monty Python's Flying Circus

You know the familiar saying folks use when things aren’t going so well, “When it rains, it pours.” In Alaska we say, “When it gets cold, it gets bitter cold.” I’m referencing these sayings for two reasons. First, the cold snap continues with temperatures dropping to -18º last night and no good news about when our high temperatures will approach or even rise above zero. Second, well let me use another saying, “The best laid plans of men often go astray.” The medical tests I had this week to help determine the cause of my marathon training difficulties (i.e. shortness of breath and some dizziness) revealed some anomalies in my heart’s arteries which require immediate medical attention; therefore, my A Trampathon Abroad is called off…for now (emphasis added).

The short story is that next Tuesday, January 13, I'm having triple (yep, I said triple) coronary artery bypass surgery and possibly a heart valve replacement. Wild news isn’t it! The good news is that the medical tests revealed that I haven’t any coronary heart disease…so why all the fuss? To answer that question I have to go allllll the waaaaay baaaack to when at 19 years old (and attending the University of Arizona) I was diagnosed and treated for Hodgkin’s Disease, a cancer of the lymphatic system. Because the cancer was found both above and below my diaphragm, I received radiation treatments in both areas…chemotherapy was not needed (actually, back then it wasn’t even considered an option). Here’s the tie-in, medical research has found that exposing the heart to radiation can cause scarring in the heart’s arteries and valves…this is likely my case.

Now for the longer story. On Monday (January 5) I had my scheduled cardiac stress test, which involved running on a treadmill and having pre-and-post running scans of my heart using a radioisotope (lithium) that was injected into my blood stream. I had the same test done in 2006 and similarly, the scanning results indicated that my heart was healthy and getting plenty of blood. However, my EKG (which runs continuously before, during, and after the run) showed dangerous anomalies which coincided with one of my shortness-of-breath and lightheadedness episodes. The tending nurse, seeing me strain and go pale, stopped the test immediately after 13 minutes of running and before I could reach my target heart rate of 152 bpm. They freaked and gave me some nitroglycerin spray (tasted like crap) thinking I was having a heart attack…I wasn’t. After completing the test, I dressed and was told to see Dr. Linda Ireland, a cardiac specialist, the next morning (January 6).

An aside: Because my heartbeat was not climbing as fast as they wanted it to, they started talking politics and about Sarah Palin hoping that would get me going. Well it worked…my heartbeats increased and climbed to 126 bpm before the test abruptly ended.

Dr. Ireland, I find out, is a fellow New Jerseyite who grew up in the Atlantic City area. She was very familiar with my neck of the woods in North Jersey…Wayne (the town I grew up in was named after Mad Anthony Wayne who was a general in the Revolutionary War) and Paterson (which use to be the national silk capital back in the 1870s). Dr. Ireland was pleased with the 2006 and 2009 heart scan results but spent most of time explaining her concern over the EKG results. It was very obvious, even to an untrained eye, that the EKG footage of when I was having my “spell” was screwed up...screwed up bad. She recommended that I have a cardiac catheterization and angiogram (Google the topics for more info) on Wednesday (January 7) to check things out…and luckily I did. The nursing staff was fantastic...Susan and Bunny were hilarious. Dr. Ireland performed the procedure and interpreted the results with Dr. Thomas Kramer…the procedure revealed two narrowings (NOTE: Here’s your human anatomy lesson and there will be a test). One 70% blockage was found in the left main coronary artery which divides into two branches (the circumflex coronary artery which supplies blood to the back, left side, and bottom of the heart; and, the left anterior descending coronary artery which supplies blood to the front and left side of the heart) and one 90% blockage was found in the right coronary artery which supplies blood to the right side and bottom of the heart. Because of their location, neither blockage can be repaired with angioplasting and stenting (Google this stuff too); therefore, the need to have bypass surgery…bummer. On Friday (January 9), I have an appointment with my heart surgeon, Dr. Gregory Misbach, to discuss my upcoming operation on Tuesday, January 13. I was told I’d be in the hospital for about a week and then have many weeks of physical therapy…sounds like lots of fun, NOT!

I’m also told that because of my good health and young age (56 is young!), I should recovery quickly…but not quick enough to make my Trampathon Abroad. My buddy Bob Bowker (formerly known as my European travelling companion “Harris”) and I are already talking about our respective circumstances (my heart surgery and his being treated for prostate cancer) and are vowing to overcome these “inconveniences” and run our comeback marathon later in the year…maybe Humpy’s Marathon in August. Crazy thought…maybe so!

You know it isn't impossible. I certainly am motivated by the accomplishments of past runners in similar circumstances. I can't help but remember Alberto Salizar's moving presentation, at last year's Twin Cities Marathon expo, about his conquering heart problems and running again (albeit a lot less intensely). I'll use this photo of Salizar and I to help keep me thinking positively. I pray all goes well.

I thought about closing this blog site but was talked into keeping it open and updating it as often as I can while going through all this crap. Eventually, I’ll be back on the road training hard and running far. Hell, I’ll now have 14 months to prepare for the 2010 edition of A Trampathon Abroad and even have more time to learn some Italian and French!!

Please keep my family and I in your prayers.

Arrivederci, Aurevoir