Tara's Story
My husband and I had just celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary in the spring of 2016. Our life was full; caring for our three young kids, socializing with friends and family and with our work. We both worked full time and also enjoyed volunteering with our kids’ activities. My job as a nursing instructor was perfect for our family. It allowed me to have some flexibility while still pursuing my passion in teaching neonatal nursing. I loved connecting with my students and the families we were caring for. I also worked as a flight nurse from time to time. This allowed me to again connect with my patients and to travel – another passion of mine. Our family had a good rhythm going and although we struggled at times with balance in our house, we were healthy and happy.
While I was vacuuming one day, I suddenly felt short of breath and had to sit down. I had never felt this before. I asked the kids to help me finish cleaning up as we ran out to baseball practice. As we left the house, I still struggled for breath and felt extremely tired. I also noted that my left arm ached and tingled and my chest felt extremely heavy like someone was sitting on it. But once I was in the car, all of those symptoms subsided. I mentioned it to my paramedic husband later and he took my blood pressure –it was normal. I chalked it up to a new exercise program I had just started. Now that I was in my forties, perhaps getting in shape was harder than I thought.
The following morning, I experienced the same symptoms and thought I should probably go and get checked out. But it was now the weekend and again, we had baseball so I just pushed on. For the next two days, I had no symptoms so I went to work Monday morning. I recalled my symptoms to some of my colleagues at work (ICU nurses) and they looked concerned so I promised that if I had these symptoms again, I would definitely go and get assessed. I knew the signs of a heart attack but I was only 45 years old and didn’t think I was capable of having heart issues. As a busy mom, I simply pushed on. I was healthy - ate well, didn’t smoke, I exercised and I lived a fairly stress-free life. I didn’t believe there couldn’t be something wrong with my heart.
Tuesday morning I returned to my “Barre”fitness class at 6 am. Three minutes into our warm up, I remember struggling with a simple movement. I looked in the mirror and my face was beet red. The exercise wasn’t hard, so I thought I was having difficulty because I was out of shape, so I persevered. That was my last thought before everything went black.
I woke up on the floor with a crowd of paramedics and fire fighters surrounding me. They were saying, “She’s starting to wake up” and sounded nervously excited. Then I threw up. I was so embarrassed that I had made a mess in the studio and began to apologize. I couldn’t move my body and I was having difficulty keeping my eyes open. I felt numb as they swiftly moved me onto a stretcher and wheeled me into the ambulance. I remember the rain hitting my face as I was wheeled in. I felt groggy and wondered what had happened.
Even in my need, I wanted to connect with the paramedic in the back and told him my husband was also a paramedic. He asked if I wanted him to call my husband and I was thinking I had just fainted, I said, “No, you’ll wake the children”.
I heard the sirens and felt the ambulance speed off. The ride to the hospital felt like I was in a dream. I remember feeling appreciative that the paramedic was talking and keeping me up to date as to where we were going, but I still didn’t know why I was going to the hospital. Later, I learned that I was in a dangerous dysrhythmia (abnormal heart rhythm) and the paramedic had to use the defibrillator to shock my heart back three times back into a normal rhythm. I clearly recall the excruciating pain of being shocked. It was unbearable. I cried and pleaded with the paramedic to please stop. Then I went into nothingness again.
I woke up in CICU at St. Paul’s hospital with my husband and parents nearby. I was told my fitness instructor (who had just re-certified her CPR) had done CPR for several minutes on me after I collapsed before the fire fighters arrived (only took them 3 minutes). Once at hospital, I was told that the cardiology team had tried for several hours to insert a stent but my LAD (left anterior descending artery) was so shredded they couldn’t do anything for me. I was too unstable, so they inserted a balloon pump (to help my heart pump) and sent me to the ward. A social worker had to call my husband at 7 am to say that I had a heart attack and he should come quickly.
Once on the ward, I had 1:1 nursing care so I knew I was really unstable. I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink for days as they were considering bypass surgery but I wasn’t a candidate for it due to such extensive damage. And so my heart, with not enough blood flow, started to die. I asked if I had a heart attack in disbelief – my husband said “yes”. I remember in those first hours that they kept the AED stickers in place in case they were needed again. All of this felt like an out of body experience to me. Close friends were crying at my bedside and alarms were constantly going off. The nursing staff stayed close. My parents and husband stayed even closer and I could see they were worried. However, amongst all of this chaos, I felt at peace and confident I was going to be okay. I can only attribute this to God watching over me and the many people who were praying for my recovery.
During my stay, I was asked to join the Spontaneous Coronary Artery Dissection (SCAD) study and that’s when I started to read more about what had caused my heart attack. I “googled” and read everything I could in hospital and my outcome seemed positive but again, I felt foolish for not listening to my body. Looking back, I can see that my body was sending me messages that something was wrong. But due to a number of factors, I didn’t listen. I also was unaware of the severity of my condition after the heart attack. It seems silly to say, but no one told me that I was in heart failure. Medical rounds were done outside my room – so I really didn’t grasp the extent of what had happened to me until about a month or two after.
I now live with an ejection fraction of only 22% (ejection fraction is how well your body ejects blood from your heart with each beat. 55% or greater is considered normal). This is considered very low so the medical team were thinking of a heart transplant but I’ve been able to avoid that – so far. I have also had two significant surgeries since my event. My heart started to enlarge, so I had a clip put in my mitral valve to reduce back flow. Prior to this surgery, the preoperative nurse strongly suggested I have a will in place before I had the procedure. I also had to sign paperwork and talk to my husband about what I wanted done if the surgery didn’t go well. I chose to be resuscitated again. My second surgery was about a year after my event when I had an internal defibrillator put in. This was hard for me to accept as the pain of being shocked was still very vivid so having a permanent device inserted that could do this again was incomprehensible to me. But I refuse to live in fear and feel blessed that I have accepted this new piece of equipment that sits just below my collar bone. Neither of these procedures are curative; they only treat my symptoms, similar to the medications I take.
I’ve been asked about my stress level and I consider my life to be filled with joy – with some stressors. I’m not convinced I had any acute precipitating stressful events; rather I was predisposed to having a SCAD. I have since found out that I have FMD (Fibromuscular Dysplasia) which has also been associated with SCAD.
I took it easy for a couple of months after my event as I learned my new normal. I was teary that this had happened to me and I was told by SCAD specialists (and all the research that I had read), that this could happen again. I was told I was lucky to be alive. I felt a lot of regret that I hadn’t listened to my body and heart sick for my family that I had put them through such worry. It’s still hard for me now to admit when I’m not feeling well. I’m trying to pay attention to what my body is saying as well as lay down my need to protect others around me from what I’m feeling.
My journey back to health has been slow. I started going to a cardiac rehab program at St. Paul’s hospital with several lovely seniors. I felt out of place. After several months, I met with a nurse at VGH’s SCAD rehab class and also joined their program. Here I realized that SCAD is not uncommon amongst young healthy females. I now exercise regularly, attend cardiac rehab and recently walked the Vancouver 10 km Sun Run. My greatest joy though is being able to stay active with my kids.
The SCAD Rehab class has contributed greatly to my healing journey. It has also connected me with other survivors. I am empowered by hearing these wonderful women (and men) share their stories and giving me space to share mine. I joined SCAD BC and now feel less isolated and more connected to this supportive group. As they share their stories, I hear mine.