The Last Samurai

I watched The Last Samurai yesterday for maybe the fifth time in the last six years. And it made me stop and wonder, “What is it about this movie, that is so appealing?” One word repeated itself over and over in my mind and that word was Honor. And then I wondered is the appeal so strong because honor is so lacking in America today? Honor is defined in the dictionary as “honesty, fairness or integrity in one’s belief and actions: a man of honor.” Where do we find honor in America today? The most obvious place today is in the military. Sometimes we find it in churches, businesses and hospitals and rarely in government. I think honor has been on the decline since the end of the greatest generation that ever lived. For those that don’t know which generation that is, think World War II.

We watch a movie like, “The Last Samurai” and go wow where are the men like that today? Where can we find men of honor or for that matter a man of honor? Why is it so rare today? I’ll tell you why. Honor is not taught anymore in home or schools. Sometimes it’s mentioned in church. The only place it is being taught daily is in the military. When was the last time we talked to our kids about honesty, integrity, truth or love? Heck forget teaching them, when was the last time we actually practiced those things daily? Oh but I do these things. Really? We lie on our tax returns. Everything is a business deduction even our French poodle security dogs. We’re not honest with our spouse because we want to control their reactions. We only love our kids when they do something right; however right is defined.

What do we honor in America today? We honor a woman’s choice over the right to life of an unborn child. We honor the rights of a criminal over the suffering of a victim. We honor pleasure today over sacrifice for tomorrow. We honor being political correct over honesty. We honor ego and status over the truth. We honor athletes and entertainers over preachers and teachers. We honor sin over righteousness.

Unfortunately, the greatest generation was succeeded by the worst generation, the baby boomers. We traded honor, truth and integrity for free love, free homes and free lunches. We invented a buy now pay later industry in everything. Our generation has created more debt than the next 3 generations will ever repay. It just makes me wonder if a hundred years from now they will be making a movie about America called, “The Last Man of Honor”?


God Bless, Art

Part Four and we are up to date finally!

I went home after the operation and had four days of no arythymias and then they came back with a vengeance. On the 23rd I enter a VT storm and have 49 episodes over three days. My ICD has recorded 91 events since it was implanted at the end of June. I’m thinking I deserve a statute at the Biotronik HQ or at least a plaque. So round two of ablation surgery is scheduled which turns out to last about 12 hours. In recovery Dr. Mehta says no more ablation surgeries and they wheel in the flat screen with a DVD player. I proceed to watch a movie on all the great aspects of an LVAD. A Left Ventricle Assist Device, a pump to pump for your heart, which incidentally is open-heart surgery as well. Joy Joy. And it is battery powered with two wires coming out of your side. These batteries have to be changed every couple hours and I’m thinking Oh boy the energizer bunny here I come. I guess that is plan b if the ablation does not work out.

After a couple of days recovery I’m discharged and a free man. That was October 1 of this past month. They schedule a six-week follow up visit for November 9. Yes this past week. Boy time flies when your having fun. I go to my check up on Monday thinking the last six weeks have been great, no shocks, no episodes, no runs no errors. Just some irregular heartbeats and palpitations. I go in thinking there is just a slight chance I’ll get my driving privileges back and truly be a free man. But Dr. Gulati for some unknown reason thought it would be a good idea to get my device interrogated and see what the activity looks like.

Well about an hour later, Todd from Biotronik’s comes in and does his thing. I’m all proud cause I know there is nothing going to show up and I ask,” So Todd how is it looking?” He says Art you have had 91 episodes in the last 41 days. I’m like get out of here! You got the wrong device, I’ve been fine. He says 67 of them have been in the range of 100-150 beats per minute, which require no therapy by the device. 14 of them have been VT’s, which were paced out, and 10 were SVT’s that were paced out as well. Then he says, “Well now you are up to 184 episodes since the end of June.” I’m thinking I should have that plaque any day now. Is somebody calling Guinness on this stuff? So as my driving privileges are headed out the door I start wondering how they might feel about me riding my motorcycle???

So the official answer is I can’t drive for 6 months from the last time my ICD shocked me. If all goes well I’m thinking March is a good time to get behind the wheel. Until then I guess it’s Oprah and Dr. Phil. I can’t wait to increase my wealth of useless information and bore you all with it. Take Care and God Bless, Art

Part Three

I was discharged the next day with a list of exams, Doctors, Dentists and eye exams to track down for the transplant committee. It amazed me how thorough they check your body out to be a candidate for a transplant. I had to track down my colonoscopy, psa test, eye exam, blood profile, hep b vaccine, neurologist reports and even my dental reports. It felt like every day for two weeks I was going to a different doctor to get something. I know I was giving my taxi drivers a workout collecting all this information.

My dentist turned out to be the only hiccup, as he wanted to do a deep tissue cleaning before signing off. He felt like some of my molars might be susceptible to abscess once my immune system was suppressed. It would be a two-step process with one half of my mouth worked on each visit. The nurse asked me if next Thursday would be good for the first cleaning. Without thinking, I said sure, not realizing that would be my birthday. Yes, I, Lord of the idiots make a dental appointment on my birthday.

Next Thursday, the 27th rolls around and I get a ride to the dentist’s office. I get out of the car, take two steps and get very light headed. I’m thinking “Jeez I’m going to faint real soon if I don’t sit down.” The closer I get to the door reality is starting to slip away. I open the door and sit down at the first chair, thank God nobody was in the waiting room, and immediately pass out (or one might say die). Two shocks later, which I thankfully didn’t feel, I awoke to the TV showing fox news. Coming back to reality is always such a pleasant experience, knowing you didn’t die again and your heart is beating much smoother. I waited about 15 minutes to make sure everything was ok before I checked in. 15 minutes later they called me back and I slowly walked to the chair.

I explained to the assistant I had an episode out in their waiting room and she might want to keep an extra eye on me today. She took my BP, which was normal, gave me oxygen and leaned me back in the chair. As the dentist was numbing my mouth and the shots looked a whole lot more intimidating than they actually were, I asked her to give me some nitrous to settle my anxiety.

At the half way point the dentist stopped for a break. I looked at the assistant and told her I was feeling a little nauseous. She set me up in the chair and I looked at her and said now I’m feeling really nauseous. She handed me the wastebasket and turned off the nitrous, which looking back was all in the right order. As soon as I saw that wastebasket breakfast came up about eight times. I think everything made it into the wastebasket and very little clean up was needed in aisle 8. After a few minutes of pure oxygen I felt better and she leaned the chair back down. The dentist came back in and finished up without any more excitement.

I came home, sat down to relax and kept thinking, “I’m the only idiot on the face of the planet that makes a dental appointment on THEIR birthday and then dies in the waiting room and pukes in the dentist chair.” Note to self-No more dentist appointments on your birthday.

A couple of weeks go by with the usual stuff. On Wednesday September 9th I’m coming back from a breakfast meeting, look over to Scott my designated driver and say,” Scott I think I’m having an arythymias (because by now I pretty good at spotting these things).” As soon as I said it, my ICD delivers a shock and I feel it. Scott looks at me and I look at him and its like ok what do we do now. I told him to just get me home and I’ll call the doctor’s office as I already had a 3 o’clock appointment for there.

I get to the Doctor’s office and they “interrogate” my ICD, which basically means they download the information from it. The guy from Biotronik starts shaking his head as he is reading the printout. I said Mitch what’s up? He looks at me and says since August 18th the last time we interrogated your device you’ve had 24 episodes. I looked at him and asked is that a lot? He just rolled his eyes and took off for the doctor.
Dr. Mehta shortly came in and just shook his head. He said do you know you’ve had 24 episodes since 8/18 and have been shocked three times? I said yea and asked him is that a lot? He rolled his eyes also. He said the next time you get shocked, call us and we are going to do an ablation on you. He said we need to get these arythymias under control. I thought to myself now there’s the understatement of the year. Always the wiseass, but hey if we can’t have fun going through this crap, why go through it.
The next day, September 10th, I have a neurological exam to make sure they are going to put this heart in a body that has some brain control and can pass a field sobriety check. And on the way there I look at my designated driver, Stephen, and say, “I think I’m having an arythymia.” I wait for the shock, but it never comes as the ICD “paces” me out of this episode. I called the doctor’s office thinking ok it didn’t shock me but at this point it just a matter of time. We might as well schedule the ablation and get this thing over with. After a few phone calls they tell me to come to the hospital, do not pass go and a room is waiting for me.

So basically I spend another week in the hospital being observed, scaring nurses and waiting for Dr. Mehta’s schedule to clear up which happens the next Thursday the 17th. Around 10.30 that morning they come to take me down to the “pre-op” area. I call it the holding pattern as we are all either waiting to get in the O.R. or just came out of the O.R. Its also a little cooler down there and they really don’t like the phrase, “I saw the light” nor “just follow the light”. Of course you know who had to say them both, only to be reprimanded. Jeez these people need a little sense of humor down here, I’m thinking.

Around noon its my turn to go to the O.R. As they wheel me out of the holding pattern a nice black female minister asks me if I would like some prayer. I’m thinking do you really have to ask at this point or do you really see the fear of God written all over my face? I grabbed her hand and said Ma’am give it your best shot!! She prayed, I prayed and then off to the operating room.

The operating room is even colder than the holding pattern room. Upon entrance two attractive female ladies introduce themselves and tell me they are part of the anesthesiology team. I’m thinking, “Man God that sure was a fast answer! I must have died even before the operation began!” One lady leans down and asks me if I have my “dream” picked out yet? Jeez if I didn’t have this gown on. I of course tell her yes and it’s a brown-eyed girl on the beach. I am thinking how hard can it be to deliver this dream? Well about that time she puts some device over my face and out go the lights.

Well about seven hours later, I’m waking up at the Y on the racquetball court between Big Show Billy Evans and his son Jay. Where is the beach and the brown eyed girl is the only thing I’m thinking at this point. I’m so disappointed in that anesthesiology team. By the time they get back to the recovery room I’m shaking off the effects of the anesthesia to the disappointment of no brown-eyed girl, only to realize my groin has been hit by a hand grenade. A little bit later Dr. Mehta (an OSU graduate I might add) comes in and explains the whole seven hour ablation surgery in terms I’m sure he thought a seventh grader could understand. Basically he took a catheter up both sides of my groin and fished it into my heart and started ablating (cauterizing) electrical areas that cause arythymias. Naturally to find those areas they have to put your heart into an arythymia, go figure. He said they only had to do this about 7 times so they only had to shock me out of the arythymias 7 times. I’m thinking that’s why the brown-eyed girl never showed up. Who likes a lightning storm? Ok part four in a while. You all take care, and God Bless, Art