My Last Night at Home

During the few weeks of living at my new place, life was going well. I was seeing a new doctor at the PAMF Center for Advanced Heart Failure. We ordered the MRI and it confirmed the structural validity of the heart, meaning there was nothing visually wrong with it. There was preserved ejection fraction, no blockages, no leaking or deformed valves, and no masses that would be putting pressure on the heart. So why was it backing up with fluid ? Why was I constantly out of energy?  Why did my legs look like a 400lb woman's? 

The answers didn't come as easily as I has hoped. It turns out Advanced Heart Failure is called Advanced because it requires a specialty training in treating complex cases where hearts fail for unusual reasons. In my case, it was microscopic damage to the blood vessels in and around the heart. Keep in mind, this is theorized and was never tested because it is not "diagnostic" testing, in insurance terms, any answers from such a procedure would not alter any course of treatment and would only gain information that would not be pertinent in the treatment of my medical care. Even to this day I have never had a biopsy of heart muscle done to confirm this. However, I have had several other procedures that, in hindsight, have only exasperated my suffering and prolonged my suffering. 

With my MRI results available, my new Dr. wanted to try a different and stronger combination of diuretic medicine that would help offload the fluid imbalance in my system. It was this combination that was aggressive and helpful, but had the serious down part of making me incredibly weak. I had to eventually stop work altogether and stay at home. One of the few nights later I could hardly breathe, despite my 3 pillows holding me up and the wedge pillows making my entire bed sloped. I called the on-call cardiologist and they suggested I come to the hospital. After another call to 911, an ambulance came to get me for the last time. 

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