The Ca-Thump

Branching Point
By Jen Chavez
10-2-17

It�s hard to know when it started. It may have always been there. Always there, but undetected. To say I barely noticed it isn�t correct. I noticed it, but it was oddly comforting. That sounds strange, I know. Often, mostly at night while lying on my stomach, I would feel the thump, thump, ca-thump, thump.

�One day,� I�d sometimes say to my husband, �One day, hopefully a long, long time from now, I think it will be my heart that kills me.�

I�d say it almost like a joke. Not a funny joke, but one of those dark jokes that help you make light of a serious situation. I mean, you have to die of something, and, for me, I just knew it would be my heart that would finally take me. I didn�t wish for it; I just knew.

It�s not something I ignored. I was under a doctor�s care. When he said, �Bicuspid aortic valve,� I had to have him repeat it several times, finally asking him to write it down on a slip of paper which I carried around in my purse, pulling it out at stoplights to practice saying it. �I have a bicuspid aortic valve.� The words sounded strange and otherworldly at first, but soon, they became part of me, and nobody seemed too concerned about it, so I wasn�t either. The ca-thump was still there, but it had a name, and for years, the ca-thump and I lived together in harmony — albeit harmony that lacks rhythm like a 10-year-old boy picking up drumsticks for the first time.

The evening that it happened started out like any other. What should I wear? What time should we leave? Should we meet your brother there or should we pick him up? Do you have the tickets? Just normal chatter between a husband and a wife. Just a normal evening.

Sure, I felt the tightness, but the ca-thump wasn�t always predictable, and it was easy to ignore. Everyone looked festive under the brims of their Avs hats. The excitement was in the air, music was playing and beer was flowing. The ca-thump was trying to get my attention by making my breath a little shallower, but I was focused on the opening night festivities. Should we see if they have a couple of extra Avs shirts for the kids? What size do they wear now?

As we started the short, two-block walk to the stadium, and my left arm went numb, it was obvious that the ca-thump was tiring of the avoidance game I was playing. The numbness quickly faded, though, and I kept moving forward, my feet feeling a little heavier and my head a little lighter.

We took our seats high in the stands. The ca-thump was yelling now, and I mumbled something to my husband before gingerly walking up the stairs to see if I could quiet it down before the first puck hit the ice. He trailed behind me, and, as I collapsed on a couch amongst the bustling crowd, we quickly realized that this was no ordinary night with the ca-thump.

In minutes, I was surrounded by dozens of pairs of wide, unblinking eyes, the beep-beep of machines, and hushed tones I could barely make out. �BP over 200.� �Call an ambulance.�

The next two days were a blur filled with words I�d never heard before: Aortic catheter, 90% blockage in mid-LAD, drug-eluting stent. My ca-thump was finally getting lots of attention, but not from me, as I faded in and out. My husband was always right there listening, though, and holding my pale, clammy hand.

The nurses and doctors were barely in focus as they flew frantically in and out of the cold, glaring white room. The air was thick with tension, and every eye wide with concern. I, however, felt an odd calm washing over me, and somehow I knew that today was not THE day. I knew my ca-thump and I would go on to see my daughter play in another volleyball game, her odd but effective combination tennis-volleyball serve always confusing the other team. I knew I would sit bundled next to another tennis court watching my son and his tennis partner play another match, making me laugh when they played air guitar with their racquets between sets. I would walk my little white dogs, again, make my famous Kahlua chili, read another great book, see another beautiful sunset and kiss my husband.

Thump, thump, ca-thump, thump. I would go on.