I’ve been reading more stuff about bypass surgery. I can’t have minimally invasive surgery unless I go to Cleveland, which my insurance will never pay for. I told my husband we could just go to Cleveland on a vacation and go to whatever hospital my surgeon says the guy doing minimally invasive is practicing at. Not that my insurance would pay for all of it, but they couldn’t refuse to pay anything. My husband has no enthusiasm for this idea, but he’s not the diabetic trying to work out a good chance of of healing.

I also can’t have off machine surgery. So that ups my chance of more strokes. Chances of neurological and cognitive problems from cardiac bypass surgery – for anyone – are way higher than I realized.

And I haven’t even decided I want to have the surgery.

Well, I already have six stents for blockages. The surgeon is expecting to do four bypasses. I’m already pretty cognitively impaired, but the number ten (10) keeps floating around my head.

How did these alien concepts, creep into my life? I don’t see the logical progression that we hear about in the media. My cholesterol tests were peachy until three years ago, until after the first heart attack. Then my cholesterol had gotten peachy again sometime before I had the third heart attack. I don’t know why. The only things I’d changed were that I stared eating organic and taking supplements.

In my unscientific view I think this means that cholesterol tests aren’t infallible predictors of strokes or heart attacks. And, based on me alone, I think certain supplements might improve the results of cholesterol tests, without necessarily reducing the probability of heart attacks or strokes.

Traditional medicine says we all should be taking statins to lower our cholesterol. Medical studies don’t actually back that up, but I quit taking them because of the side effects. They were so severe that I determined in July of 2008 that I didn’t want my life prolonged to live it the way it was then. My life did improve after I decided not to continue tormenting my body with the cholesterol lowering medications that were first prescribed for me in February of 2007. Of course I had another heart attack, and three more blockages, a year later – 2008.

Am I writing this clearly enough for you to understand that you’d be really silly to think taking statins will provide you with an invisible shield against heart attacks and strokes? I urge you to do your own (complete with confusing, conflicting opinions of “experts”) research about statins. I find it rather odd that, after the third heart attack, not one of the “experts” in my health care life has suggested I might like to take them again. Maybe that’s because I have such peachy cholesterol tests. *shrug*

Here’s the thing that nobody talks about. What’s your life like? There’s a perception among the young, inexperienced and healthy that all that needs to be considered is are you alive, or are you dead. It seems like it’s straightforward. Life is a yes and death is a no. Sounds like a no brainer.

The truth is that each of us has a very personal standard of what we consider to be a life worth living. We’re all willing to pay different “prices” to stay alive. To someone healthier, my life now might seem intolerable. It isn’t. From January of 2007 to July of 2008, when I was taking statins, my life was a nightmare that I wanted out of almost any way short of suicide.

Since July of 2008, when I stopped the statins, I’ve been able to work out a truce between my physical limitations, and my personal awareness of what a better life had once been like. This life now is pretty sucky, but I’m not mentally suffering because of that truce, and the physical suffering could be a lot worse, is a lot worse for a lot of people.

Bypass surgery now would entail the risk of more permanent pain and a decline in cognitive and physical functioning, but I’d be alive. Would it be alive in a way that would be tolerable to me? Because of previous damage to my lungs, heart and nervous system I face a somewhat higher risk of my body being damaged by the surgery than some other people. But, make no mistake, anyone facing bypass surgery faces some pretty grim risks of debilitating damage. The decision is: Possible reduction in quality of life in exchange for any life at all.

I might get a month (or hours) or at most three years of more pain, less lung function and worse physical handicaps. That’s the gamble. On the other hand, if all goes well, and it certainly could, I might get seven to ten more years in no worse condition that I am in now, except for the natural declines caused by the aging process and expected progression in current disease processes. Obviously, if such an outcome – several more years like today – “could” be guaranteed, there really would be an fairly enthusiastic, “Yeah, let’s go for it,” from me.

And that brings us to my next hurdle – the lung function test I have to have Monday. If my lungs are too damaged, nobody will do heart bypass surgery on me. Almost five years ago my lungs functioned like those of a 108 year old. Do they consider 108 year old lungs good candidates for heart surgery? I can’t answer that. Has my lung function improved in the last five years? My symptoms and the problems I have are certainly worse. I don’t know. I’ll just have to wait until Monday to find out.

It’s one thing to know that you might not like the results of a surgery. It’s quite another thing to know that you’ll be denied the surgery because you have no chance of a good outcome. One leaves the choice up to you. The other takes all choice out of your hands.

Right now I’m experiencing the same left arm pain I started having in January, before the heart attack in February. Does that mean that another heart attack is imminent? If so, would it be likely to be “the big one?” I have no way of knowing the answers to those questions.

On May 5, 2010, I spent a harrowing hour and a half with my cardiologist. He didn’t want to let me out of his sight and control. On May 13, 2010 my husband and I spent two hours with my surgeon. At the end I said, “Is this like buying a car; do I get to think about it overnight?” He replied quickly, “Of course you do! I’d be happy for you to take a week to make up your mind.”

I’m sure there are people who are in worse shape than I am, who face higher risks than I do, who give it serious consideration and decide not to buy the car. I even have a semi-fuzzy idea of what would make me decide that. Right now, I’m leaning toward praying for the best and going for it.

But, it might not be my decision to make. That’s a hard thing for me to face – that God might allow some other human to decide whether, or how soon, I could die.

And I simply must allow the decision about what’s best for me, and for my husband, to be made by God. I’m in too much pain, too unhappy, and too scared to know what the very best thing that could happen in our lives would be.

If you’re a Believer, if you think that there’s some force in the universe capable and desirous of working for the good of all living creatures, please ask It/Her/Him to do whatever is necessary for me to fulfill my perfect destiny, and for those who’ve played a part in my life, whether they love me or not, to fulfill theirs.

It feels odd to ask a bunch of strangers to help me, like putting a note in a bottle then sending it into the ocean. The strong, confident, mature, self-actualized woman is still there. She’s just taking a baby step into the infinity of humanity’s heart and mind. Someday she’s gonna take a big step into that; we’ll all do it someday.

Today’s a good day to live or die.