Nursing, Open Heart Surgery, Valve Replacement

Hearing Zebras

Zebra is the American medical slang for arriving at an exotic medical diagnosis when a more commonplace explanation is more likely.[1] It is shorthand for the aphorism coined in the late 1940s by Dr. Theodore Woodward, professor at the University of Maryland School of Medicine, who instructed his medical interns: “When you hear hoofbeats, think of horses not zebras”.[2] Since horses are common in Maryland while zebras are relatively rare, logically one could confidently guess that an animal making hoofbeats is probably a horse. By 1960, the aphorism was widely known in medical circles.[

 

images

As planned, my husband was discharged five days after he had open-heart surgery—two valves replaced. The day before he walked three laps around the Cardiac floor with tubes from his chest, EKG leads and wires from an external pacemaker. He leaned on a tall

bure_standard_gas_webb
Swedish Walker

 

Swedish walker as he took slow steps and here he was being thrust, tubeless and wireless, out of the door into my care.

Should he be relieved to be sent home in my good hands since I am a retired nurse practitioner? Sadly, I am aware that I know too much—too much outdated knowledge. Plus I have a life long tendency to hear zebras. When my children were young, I over reacted to their illnesses —and do so even now that they are adults. The same with my grandchildren. When my middle grandson, then age four, visited my house, he suddenly became ill with a fever and pain in the back of his neck. I called his father and told him to meet me at urgent care—I was sure my grandson had meningitis. The understanding physician told me ear infections could cause neck pain and calmed my anxiety.

Cardiology was my specialty as a young nurse. However, I haven’t set foot on a cardiac unit in over 40 years. What I found out with my husband’s recent hospitalization was what I had learned to be red flags for life threatening problems are now mostly routine side effects of heart surgery and resolve quickly, albeit with sophisticated equipment, improved lab testing, powerful new drugs and experienced staff.

During my husband’s hospitalization, I anticipated:

  • Pneumonia—he had a slightly elevated temp
  • Immediate need for dialysis—low urine output
  • Trip back to surgery for a permanent pacemaker—irregular heart rate

Now at home, my outdated knowledge of cardiology feeds the anxiety I feel when I wonder if I am seeing life threatening changes in my husband’s health status. I am on the edge of becoming an overbearing, hovering and fretful caregiver. My husband tries to ignore my fisheye looks as I monitor his progress. Frequently, I need to take a deep breath, re-read the information we received on discharge about when to call the surgical resident and admit to myself that I am hearing those damn zebras.

zebre-390x224

8 thoughts on “Hearing Zebras”

  1. Honest and brave, Marianna. Love this post. I hope all is going well despite the beating hooves. Most likely they are of horses. But I totally get where you’re coming from.

    Like

  2. It’s comforting to know on some level that even you feel anxiety in such circumstances. Best wishes to both of you!

    Like

  3. I identified with this- my husband is waiting for a date to have a fancy anachronism done for an aortic stenosis opening. I have 34 years in oncology, but barely remember my cardiac One-o-One. The teaching papers he brought home are within reach- for me!
    He could care less.

    Like

    1. There have been so many advances in medicine that my head spins but after this hospital experience I realize that basic nursing care–making the patient the center of attention–will always remain paramount in cure and comfort.
      May all go smoothly with your husband’s procedure.

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.