Personal Note: What’s Left Of Mike McCarville

Back in my radio talk show host days, I used to describe myself as “what’s left of Mike McCarville.”

Today, nine months after open heart surgery and multiple related illnesses, the phrase rings more true than ever.

Some of you kind readers have inquired of my health, so consider this is a situation report.

I’m about 25 percent of what I was prior to surgery. Before last July 6th, I was walking our dog up to a mile a day. Now, I can handle just a few blocks and even then, I’m exhausted. Before last July 6th, I continued to work in the yard and enjoyed doing it; today, I’m hard pressed to operate the weedeater for more than a couple of minutes.

The severe edema I encountered following surgery may have done some nerve damage to my right leg and foot; during my recovery, my swollen right foot turned black and blue and hurt like hell. Today, it occasionally turns sore for no apparent reason and I seem to have a “dead” spot in my calf.

The MRSA staph infection I encountered has me perpetually on guard; I avoid crowds (compromised immune system) and if anyone has a cold, they’re asked to stay away.

After seven months, I was able to start driving again (this, after I passed out while driving). The dizzy spells and loss of equilibrium I encountered have pretty much disappeared. I suspect the drug regimen I’m on may be to blame for that, but who knows?

Sitting on my butt for six months prompted a forseeable result; loss of muscle tone and endurance. Even modest exertion results in aching and sore muscles., With exercise in recent weeks, the muscles at least don’t scream in protest as I move about.

My lifetime ability to lay down and go to sleep and stay there for six to eight hours is a thing of the past; now, it’s two hours here and three hours there. When I awake, I am wide awake.

While I have encountered muscle cramps in the past, I now suffer from cramps and spasms (which are different than cramps) and what I describe as the “heebie jeebies,” in which every nerve ending in my body starts screaming at me.

The blood thinner I continue to take means that if I nick myself, I bleed like a stuck pig. If I hit myself on anything, sometimes even if it is just a light touch, the blood blotches under my skin. I now perpetually look like I’ve been in a fight I lost.

There are other serious side effects I won’t describe, but which limit my ability to move about.

Prior to the surgery to replace my (defective at birth) aortic valve, I had none of these maladies.

My heart surgeon, Dr, Marvin Peyton, lamented on my most recent visit that the purpose of the surgery was to improve my life and it apparently has not done that. Not by any stretch.

I have friends who have had the same surgery and recuperated with no complications, certainly none as serious as those I’ve experienced.

So there you have it, a fairly complete report on my health. I hope that, in a year or so, I can report complete recovery and a return to my previous normalcy.