12th Anniversary - CRAZY!

On January 5, 1999, I had surgery #3 at UCLA Medical Center.  Crazy to think it's been 12 years since I last had any problems (major or otherwise).  I'm certainly one of the lucky ones.  I can't say that enough. 

Back in December, I had the wonderful opportunity to meet some amazing parents and their children whom all have a congenital heart defect.  These are kids who've had more procedures/surgeries in their first few years of life than I've had in my 25 (almost 26).  It was nice for me to talk to them and let them see that with the advancements of medicine they're children have a long and happy life ahead of them.

When I was told I'd have to have a pulmonary valve replacement (although I didn't have a pulmonary valve at the time to replace) in October, 1998, I was also told that it would last between 5 and 10 years.  Well, now (and I'm a good testament to that) these valves last usually at least 15 to 20 years.  So, at 13 years old, I looked to the future, thinking that I'd have to take a semester off when I'm in college to go this hell again.  And let me tell you, it was pure hell.  It never really occured to me that complications could occur or my body would reject the valve.  Thankfully, it didn't.   I don't care how much I may dislike someone the physical pain that the recovery was and the emotional stress I experienced much later on are things I would never wish upon anyone. 

I can remember that recovery like it was yesterday.  It's all fairly clear to me.  My mother did her best to not allow me to throw a pity party, as much as I wanted to.  About a week after the surgery, I went into the area in the hospital where there are activities for kids to do while they recover from whatever surgery (think hell) they just endured.  There was an 8 year old boy who had open heart surgery and had complication after complication to the point where he hadn't been in school all year.  I distinctly remember my mom saying to me, see it could be worse, at least you got to go to school this year.  And that's how it was, for the next 8 months (until I had left for high school), my mother mad sure that no matter what I thought of my own situation, for someone somewhere they had it worse.  At times I may forget this, but ultimately she's right.  As Plato once said "Be kind, for everyone is fighting a hard battle."  My mother made sure I never forgot that.

I'm still amazed as the days, weeks, months, and years go by I've been lucky enough to not have to go through that all again.  However, I'm also not naive to think that I'm "cured" or that's the last of them - I can live with this valve for the rest of my life.  One day, I'll be told by the doctors that my valve isn't working and they have to replace it.  I'll once again look to a surgeon who has operated on the tinest of children to perform the same miracle on an adult.  As I wait for that day to arrive, modern medicine continues to advance and by then I may not have to endure the pain and stress of open heart surgery (yay!). 

I can't say thanks enough to an awesome team of doctors and nurses; an excellent and skilled surgeon (Dr. Lax); and a 29 mm porcine pulmonary valve.  They all saved my life.