Annually for 40 some years a group of newspaper reporters, businessmen, and assorted raconteurs have met on or near the Mecan River in Central Wisconsin to mark the start of trout season. 

It's always the first Saturday in May, which sometimes conflicts with Mothers' Day weekend.  About 20 years ago, the group shifted from its Mecan River site to the South Fork of Wedde Creek.   It's a mile as the crow flies from the Mecan. I've attended many trout opener gatherings over the years.

I've been fly fishing for trout and bass for nearly 50 years and joined the group after the move to Wedde Creek. The point is that I was unable to attend last year because of complications with my LVAD.  

Little did I know that I would get a second chance at life with a new heart in early June, 2013. At any rate, son Kevin and I (now waterproof once more) are headed east 500 miles to join chums and colleagues.  The donated heart gave me that chance. 

Trout are no longer at the top of the list of opening weekend activities as most of us are in our 70s and up. The eldest is 86, but he still fishes. I wet a line but routinely get skunked. But the camaraderie is priceless.  Being outdoors along a trout stream is priceless. 

We have all learned, like Thoreau once said, "some men go fishing all their lives and never realize it is not the fish they are after."

As I get to my 11th month post heart transplant, I am more grateful than ever for the gift of life.

My life at 9200 rpm's: Yippee Ki Yay... adios pus factor

Yippee Ki Yay, driveline infection.

I write with apologies to Johnny Mercer, fabled songwriter, and John McClane, fabled Bruce Willis good guy, who have used the cowboy phrase "Yippee Ki Yay."  

In Mercer's case, the phrase was followed by get along little doggies, it's your misfortune and none of my own.  In McClane's case, he was usually summoning the collective chutzpah of cowboy heroes like Roy Rogers and Matt Dillon, as they dispatched the villains.

This post bids farewell and good riddance to a pesky driveline site infection that is all but healed.  LVADs are susceptible to such scourges along with strokes, internal bleeding, clots in the pump itself, mechanical failures, and assorted other effects that are not of concern here.

I feel a bit like Snoopy as he does his supper dance around his dog dish. Some tap dance, ballet, or trapeze move seems appropriate, but that's problematic for my age group and fitness level. 

Anyway, it is something to note with cheeriness. I would use a profane epithet to bid the infection adieu, but bloggers have their sensibilities. At least I do in print.

To those who do not have an LVAD, you might ask:  what's the big deal?  You get an infection, you take antibiotics.  It's not rocket science. 

In the interests of understanding, I won't go there. To those who have an LVAD or know or care for one who has a mechanical circulatory support device, no explanation of a driveline infection fight is necessary.

If you look at a diagram of how the HeartMate II LVAD is placed in the body, you will see that the pump is attached to the heart and aorta. A line extends across the abdomen below the diaphragm from the pump itself to a site a few inches northwest of my naval.

The line, the "driveline," is a set of electrical wires encased in a bio-friendly, flexible sheath.  It exits the body in what is called the "driveline site."  From the driveline site, the driveline is attached to a controller unit, a 4x9x3 inch computerized brain center for the pump.  The controller is attached to the driveline via 18 inches of flexible plastic coated wire (multiple strand) and a secure connector that snaps and locks into place. Additionally, the controller is powered by two 14 volt LI batteries.  

The whole rig works as a unit, controlling the pump's operation, including its continuous flow at or near 9200 rpm's; hence the working moniker for this blog.  

The driveline site is the weakest point in the system because it is susceptible to damage and the cumulative effects of tugging, moving, shifting of the body during regular daily activities: tying shoes, reaching to an upper shelf, twisting, turning.  The worst is snagging the driveline on some immoveable object.  The object wins; the driveline site suffers.  

Most LVADs use some form of anchoring system to keep the driveline from being tugged or yanked.  The U of MN LVAD team adapted a flexible soft plastic anchoring system that was designed to hold a Foley catheter tube in place.  

Others use a stretchy elastic binder with Velcro tabs.  I used the binder system until the infection made it uncomfortable to have any pressure on the wound site.  Now I use and prefer the Foley catheter anchor.  It has the benefit of being secure and it adds no pressure to the driveline sited.

About December 5, 2012, my existence as an infection free LVAD ended.  I am fortunate that the infection stayed on the surface because infections can easily migrate along the driveline inside the body and lodge in or around the LVAD itself.  Surgeons create a pouch below the patient's heart to keep the HeartMate II in place.  The pouch can become infected.

If the infection progresses to that point, hospitalization follows.  One option, an expensive one in terms of equipment, surgical talent, and the toll on the LVAD recipient, is to replace the pump and driveline.  This is chest cracking, open heart surgery.  Not a walk in the park.

We LVADs are on the medical frontier, pioneers in many ways. Don't misunderstand me though because the life saving technology has only been around for a few years. Without it, end stage heart failure would have been the end for me in a matter of days or weeks.

When my pump was installed in April of 2010, the Mayo LVAD team said it was my only option. So on April 2, 2010, I became a pioneer.  Our online group calls itself LVAD Warriors.  We are all warriors.

The docs can guess about survival without the pump. But one thing is certain: our end stage (death is the next stage) heart failure would not react well to not having mechanical circulatory support.  In fact, I've been told that I would not last long at all if the pump failed. Is it minutes, or hours?  I don't know. That means reduced blood flow to all bodily systems.

I'm glad I don't have to go there. Semper Paratus.

My life at 9200 rpm's: anti-coagulation drugs are no joke

      I returned to Fargo from my LVAD checkup in Minneapolis Monday only to trip on the back steps and hit my head on a metal chair.  No big deal, I thought.  It hurt but it wasn't a powerful  blow.

    Enter warfarin/coumadin, which most LVADs take as an anti-coagulant agent to keep the HeartMate II pumping smoothly and clot free.

    To be safe, I went to the ER and the doctor, who is LVAD savvy, ordered CAT scans of my head and neck.  The scans showed no brain bleeding or cervical spinal damage.

   I now know first hand what a goose egg looks like as my forehead swelled and protruded.  A day later gravity moved the bruising from the goose egg to my right eye and face.  The next day (Wednesday) my right eye swelled shut from the accumulation of coagulated blood.

     My eye doctor found no muscle damage or other damage to the eye itself. Good news.  I return today for a followup exam.

     This morning the bruising had spread to my left eye and face.  With Halloween on the way, I don't need to look for a mask.

     I would include a photo but frankly I don't recognize myself.  More importantly, I wouldn't want to deter one potential LVAD recipient from getting a pump.  

     The anti-coagulation regimen is necessary for me to survive.  Injuries happen.  I'm using hand railings on all stairs.  As the London Underground announcement reminds riders when the doors are about to close:  Mind the gap.  That goes double for LVAD warriors.