Shocked!

“I like the mornings best, right after I wake up. I forget everything for a while and feel normal, like none of this has happened.”

I was at my desk, working on my lesson plans for that week's workouts, when Dane came down the stairs and told me this. One hand was carrying his book and water cup, and the other was clutching the shoulder strap that cradles the battery pack of his LifeVest.

Ever since he was released from the hospital, Dane’s been busy preparing for his next echocardiogram, which will determine how efficiently his heart is pumping blood (called the ejection fraction, or EF). So many things—being able to drive, to live on his own again, and to work—depend on an improved EF. The normal range is between 55 and 70 percent. On October 13 Dane’s EF was at 36, but after his heart attacks it dropped to 25. To get back to a normal lifestyle, he needs to get that number to 35.

The vest, designed to prevent death from sudden cardiac arrest, has been a necessary pain. The weight of the battery pack has caused his back to ache and has resulted in a forward posture he didn’t have before. It continually malfunctions, causing him additional stress.

Twice, LifeVest reps, one from Eau Claire and one from Madison, have come to the house on a weekend to switch out the vest with another because the alarm wouldn’t stop shrieking. If the alarm isn’t manually turned off within 25 seconds, it will alert bystanders to stand back, then emit a blue gel and shock him. On a recent warm-weather walk, the alarm went off six times in little over an hour, making the walk anything but enjoyable.

Often, Dane forgets he’s tethered to the vest and stands up, only to have the chair, where he hung the shoulder strap, tip over.

After breakfast and a shower, Dane meticulously dismantled his vest, removing all the wires and doodads, and washed it in the sink, then carefully laid out his second vest on the bed while he went to put the first one in the dryer. He attached and snapped the wires into place before putting the new one on.

When I finished class that morning, Dane walked in, clean and bare-chested, his arms raised over his head as if he were surrendering. “Can you look over the vest and see that everything is okay?” He turned slowly while I ran my hands under the vest and checked each electrode to ensure they were connecting with skin. I also made sure the wires hadn't inadvertently gotten crossed or come loose.

“You're all set,” I said. Then, noticing his thinness, I asked him about his weight.

“It’s 149.6. When I look in the mirror I see an old man’s body.”

Dane's COVID weight had gotten up to 180, but his preferred weight is 160.

“I’m sorry,” I empathized. “Remember to eat a few handfuls of your almonds.” Going below 160 wasn’t part of the plan.

Dane's recent lifestyle changes include rarely using a salt shaker and keeping his daily intake of salt under 2,000 mg; eating more fresh fruits and vegetables; cutting back on processed foods as well as sugar and flour; eating more chicken/fish/beans and far less red meat; and drinking his recommended two liters of water daily.

The cardiologist is insistent about fluid intake as well as daily weight and blood pressure checks. Periodically Dane reports those numbers to their office.

On Dane’s first day of rehab last fall, he performed a simple test of walking for six minutes while they monitored his heart. Dane labored at it, hunched over the top of his walker, the LifeVest cords dangling out the back of his shirt. Taking baby steps and gasping for breath, he walked 720 feet.

On January 31, his last day of rehab, he retook the test. He’d been working toward it, not only in his program at the hospital but by walking up the hill from my driveway to Highway SS almost every day. He also began an exercise class three times a week and has included a weekly two-mile hike. His hard work paid off, and in those six minutes he went 1,370 feet without a walker!

So on February 1, he was ready to ace his EF test—and more than ready to get that darn LifeVest off, drive again, go home, and start work in May!

The sun was shining, the snow melting, and our spirits soaring as we drove to Gundersen for his test. After the test, we celebrated with somewhat healthy salads at Burrachos, knowing it would be at least a week or more before the results came back.

But the hospital called the very next day. Three abnormalities were found in his heart structure, and his EF was 30—even lower than his first test.

Shocked, not by the LifeVest but by the test results, Dane told me, “I failed. The whole time I was being tested, I kept repeating 40, 40 percent. I was positive I’d at least be at 35 percent and get free of the vest, but hoped I would be at 40.”

Still catching my breath at the news, I reminded him he didn’t fail this test. He did everything right, and everything he did helped him mentally, spiritually, and physically over these past months.

Dane hasn’t failed, but his heart isn’t doing well.