Sometimes life can be complicated. Sometimes it’s simple. You spend an inordinate amount of time worrying or fussing about things you think are tremendously important until life speaks up and says, “Get over it! Here’s something that’s REALLY important.” That’s what’s happened now, for me. I’ve been diagnosed with diastolic heart failure, and “it is what it is” has become my mantra.

I’ve had angina and micro-vascular heart disease since July 2012. In February of this year (2019), I was diagnosed with diastolic heart failure or “chronic congestive heart failure with preserved ejection fraction”. Ain’t that a mouthful? Basically, this is the problem. Your heart squeezes (systolic) and relaxes (diastolic). It’s what they measure when they take your blood pressure. The top number is the systolic one and the bottom number is the diastolic one. My heart has enlarged and the lower parts of it–the ventricles–aren’t relaxing any more. They should be squishy like your thigh feels when you poke your finger into it–firm but squishy. Mine are like a wooden table top.

There’s no cure. There’s no operation. Medications treat the side effects, like edema. I’m now constantly short of breath–it feels like you just can’t breath in right–my tummy, face and ankles are swollen but my legs and arms are losing their muscle mass. So we treat the symptoms. I’ll have plateaus where I’ll be able to maintain the balance between edema and not being swollen like the Pillsbury Dough Boy, and then there will be little cliffs I metaphorically fall off, where I’ll be hospitalized. I’ve been in the hospital about 7 times in the last 6 months. The nurses and techs know me now on the heart ward at the hospital–we meet again and it’s like old home week.

My faith tells me this is all in the hands of Allah. I’m good with that. My Mom had the same idea, she just used the term “God” instead, being a good Catholic. But it helped her cope with her heart issues–my whole family is like the poster family for heart trouble–and I find the same strength in my faith. Dying doesn’t scare me–I faced that in 2016–but I regret terribly that I’m leaving my wife, my friends and my cats too early. We had plans of growing into old curmudgeons together but now we’ll just have to be middle-aged curmudgeons!

Why tell everyone this? One, to tell folks if you have certain symptoms, you need to go to the doctor and get checked out. Ask your primary care doc to monitor the size of your heart (mine did, and gave us an early warning). If you have diabetes, work on your blood sugars. If you have high blood pressure, don’t ignore it–get treatment for it! If you suddenly start to feel extremely tired (tired beyond anything you’ve ever felt before, a bone-dragging, incredible, inescapable exhaustion), if you have shortness of breath, your ankles start swelling… don’t just ignore these symptoms. The earlier you’re diagnosed, the longer you’ll probably live.

Statistically, I have a 50/50 chance of living for 5 years. After that, if I make it to the 5 year mark, I have only a 10% chance of living another 5 years.

There are 4 stages of heart failure according to the New York Heart Association–https://manual.jointcommission.org/releases/TJC2018A/DataElem0439.html

I’m in Stage 3, edging into Stage 4.

I’m now focused on my wife, my friends and my cats–and the raccoons that are hanging out with us on our farm. Spending time with them, doing things with them that I can still manage–that’s the whole focus. Telling them the things I want to say before I’m not able to say them. Realizing that life can be short–sometimes crappy–but beyond the pain, discomfort and crap, there’s room for love, faith, and forgiveness. You find out what’s really REAL when you contemplate not being here any more.

Take a moment to HUG someone you love. Tell them you love them. Forgive them if they’ve bothered you somehow. Find your path in faith–don’t let anyone tell you that you HAVE to believe a certain way in order to do so. You’ll do fine on your own, asking questions and listening to what your soul replies.

Love.