The persistent pain, the reaction of concerned health care workers and Hollee’s worried glances had already sent strong signals.
Emergency room physician Jason Como’s words - delivered in a cheerfully blunt manner - would normally be earth-shattering but instead late on this Sunday night came as almost matter-of-fact.
“Tom, you’ve had a heart attack.” Not long after came a helicopter trip to Duluth and the continuation of a medical ride that isn’t over, but clearly has settled since a bumpy, curvy, and at times even dire, sad and torturous first 48 hours.
In a half century plus a few years, there have been countless visits to hospitals and a few to the ER, but almost always as a visitor or a loved one of a family member needing care.
On top of that were decades of watching hospital shows on TV, which no doubt also helped familiarize me to the goings-on and made me a little less surprised by what took place.
But this time I wasn’t in front of a screen with a piece of pizza, nor was I there in the role of support or of worried husband, son, grandson or parent.
Instead starting late in the night of June 29 it was me, indeed, who was the focus and center of attention. The main character in a medical drama that at times seemed made for TV.
And it wasn’t any fun. When words like heart attack and bypass surgery, and then biopsy and potential pancreatic cancer begin to get thrown around, only a fool would be oblivious, and only the best (or worst) BSer could say it’s no big deal.
Fast forward 10 days and the tide has shifted for the better in so many ways.
We’ll spare many of the details here and instead shamelessly cross-promote the Echo’s weekly podcast - The Pulse of Ely. I had the chance to sit down with publisher Nick Wognum this week and tell my story of a five-day stay, nearly all of it in intensive care, in Duluth’s glass palace - otherwise known as the new St. Mary’s.
Instead this column comes with some hot takes, some not surprising and others that play off my decades in sports.
With the IVs pulled, the trips to surgery over and a battle plan now in place I’ve concluded this:
• Family is everything - Nothing can fairly describe the role Hollee played since we decided jointly it was time for an ER visit.
Since that moment she was and remains my fiercest ally and advocate and my rock while carrying on in her already too busy roles as mom, daughter and meal facilitator for all. I owe her a vacation or two, but even that will never repay the debt run up these last 10 days.
Our kids were rock stars through this ordeal and the saga even resulted in a surprise hospital room reunion with our 21-year-old Jacob, home on leave from the U.S. Army, and joining Robert and Macy at my bedside.
Throughout the week, my mom JoAnne and mother-in-law Peg were daily visitors while my dad, Tom Sr. and his wife Terri led a parade of many other family members who made their way to Duluth. Their gestures won’t ever be forgotten.
• It’s better to be lucky than good - That’s a phrase that has been coined a time or two before in this column, usually in reference to sports, gambling, Las Vegas or all three at once.
This week convinced me it applied to life as well. For whatever reason, a CT scan done in the hours after I arrived at Ely-Bloomenson’s ER caught a glimpse of my pancreas as well as a four-centimeter mass.
Como, the weekend doc up from the Cities, not only spotted it but sent it along in his notes to Duluth and made Hollee and I aware. That triggered a series of events that still have not been entirely resolved, but prompted response from experts in their field.
Had Dr. Como not noticed what he did, whatever I have may have gone undetected until it was far too late, as there was no reason for the heart-nervous physicians to look elsewhere.
Call it fate, luck, intervention or what you will. But it may have ultimately been a life-saving move.
• There’s no place like home - Cue the obvious that one’s own bed and surroundings beat the 10th floor ICU, but there’s also something about being from Ely.
Let’s start with Ely-Bloomenson. From the moment we arrived, nurse Anna Urbas treated me promptly and professionally and was reassuring to both me and Hollee. Several others were right there in the middle of the night, and in the end Dr. Como could very well be a lifesaver. All this in a town of 3,400 at the end of the road. The words “critical access” don’t do justice to the importance of rural hospitals such as the one we have up on the hill.
And as word quickly spread, it’s Ely after all, of my condition, the outpouring of calls, texts, messages and emails was far more than overwhelming. It was truly uplifting and gave me another reason to be thankful that 55731 remains my home zip code. I don’t know if I’ll ever get back to all who reached out but I will try. And until then, thank you so much.
Some went way over the top, particularly those who cared for our dog and devoted hours to decluttering and cleaning our home, and even removing some wires that a storm placed on our home. All in advance of our July 4 return. That was indeed amazing.
Those I work with, starting with Nick and those here at the Echo, have been with us every step of the way. The concern and support continue and we are blessed.
Same too with the Ely Baseball Family, led by Frank Ivancich and a virtual army of parents and supporters who have risen to the occasion and taken on so much more than they would normally have needed to. Coming one month before hundreds will arrive in town for the state Legion tournament, the heart attack couldn’t have been more ill-timed. But the show will go on and with any sort of luck I’ll be back in the third base coaching box this weekend.
• Count your blessings - During the darkest moments, and there were a few, it prompted time for reflection and more than a few “what-ifs?”
In the past I’ve been a bystander, observer or loved one as someone I knew faced the possibility of the real end.
And again, only a true BSer can say it doesn’t have an impact when all of a sudden you’re the one doing the reflecting.
It gave me solace that there were so many caring and praying, and thoughts did veer to others - those who suffered terrible tragedies or those whose lives were cut short in their teens, 20s or 30s. It made me thankful, truly, for the time I’ve already been granted and the wonderful things I’ve already experienced in better than a half-century.
No one truly knows what will come next and fate and life can turn rapidly. And no doubt luck was on my side a time or two this week, yet someday this medical drama will end like all others in time.
But until then I’m sure up for a few more chapters.
