Code Blue in the ICU

My husband has an enlarged heart, also known as Hypertrophic Cardiomyopathy.   In the past few years, he has noticed increased symptoms associated with that condition, especially a shortness of breath when he plays tennis or mows the lawn.  His cardiologist recommended surgery to reduce his symptoms.  She referred us to another cardiologist who has performed the surgery, a cardiac ablation, hundreds of times. 

While the cardiac ablation was explained to me many times, I confess that I still have trouble understanding all of it, so here's a reference if you are interested: Cardiac Catheter Ablation (baptisthealth.com).  The bottom line, and most significant detail about this procedure, is that it is minimally invasive; it should require at most an overnight stay in the hospital for observation.  This all sounded good to us, so the surgery was scheduled.  I won't bore you with all the details of every test, exam, paperwork, bloodwork, MRI, etc. that has to happen before surgery, but it's a lot, as it should be.  Surgery, even minor surgery, is a big freaking deal.  

Finally, the day of the surgery arrived.  We got to the hospital at 6:15 a.m. for an 11:00 a.m. surgery.  I have to say that the hospital staff could not have been nicer.  Even at 6:15 a.m., they were as cheerful and accommodating as they could be.  After some mildly invasive stuff (e.g., shaving, blood pressure, IV insertion) in the pre-op suite, my husband was wheeled into surgery.  After about 90 minutes, the cardiologist/surgeon came to see me in the waiting room.  The surgery was successful, and I could go to my husband's room to await his semi-conscious arrival.  One of the nurses was in the room and told me that we were lucky to be in the ICU because most patients go to regular rooms after the ablation surgery. The ICU rooms are bigger than the regular rooms.  Maybe those rooms were all full, but, whatever, I was glad to be there with the surgery done and my husband on his way to get some rest.  He was wheeled in by a bunch of folks, still attached to a lot of monitors, catheters, and other assorted protrusions.  He was fine, if a bit woozy.  I was so happy to see him and to know that all was well.  Until it wasn't.  

After the crowd of folks delivering my husband left, he and I were alone in the room.  He asked for something from the staff, so I walked a few steps into the corridor to ask a nurse for assistance and went right back to him.  Suddenly, horribly, his eyes went into the back of his head, his mouth moving uselessly, frighteningly, and I yelled for help.  The nurse who followed me into the room ran back out to the nursing station calling for assistance.  Before I knew what was happening, I was told to leave.  I remember hearing the Code Blue called on the public address system, and medical staff swarming into the room.  I heard them doing chest compressions and shocking my husband, counting, and intubating.  There was a lot of the kind of sounds that, until this, I had heard only on television medical shows. It's all a blur, really, because I went into some sort of fugue state.  I do remember knowing right then that I wasn't ready for this; I didn't want to lose my husband, I didn't know how life could go on without him.  

As it turned out, my husband had died for a minute or two.  He was brought back to life by the team in the room.  The good news is that he has no memory of the cardiac arrest, the chest compressions, the cardioversion (fancy word for shocking), the intubation.  I have some strong memories, but I know those will fade with time.  

So, what the hell happened?  He was fine when he was wheeled into the ICU room after successful surgery.  Turns out it was the temporary pacemaker that was attached for the ablation surgery.   The pacemaker malfunctioned in our ICU room, well after the surgery was complete.  My husband was fine...and then he wasn't.  After everything and everyone had calmed down, they wheeled him away to replace the faulty pacemaker.  

When the cardiac surgeon came to visit my husband, he said that he had performed this surgery hundreds of times; this was the first time any complications occurred.  It wasn't the surgery; it was the pacemaker.  Which, I have to say, makes me just a tiny bit wary of my own pacemaker!  But I've had it for more than four years and never had a problem.  Yet...;-)