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Growing up, I always thought of myself as being perfectly healthy. I never broke a bone and had never been to the hospital except when I was born. I played all kinds of sports—tennis, golf, baseball, soccer, ultimate Frisbee and was on a freestyle skiing team (which by itself should have given me at least a couple of fractures with all the insane things I did on skis). I was surrounded by reckless kids, who always had their arms in slings, but for some reason, I never got hurt. So I started to think I was invincible and for most of my childhood that concept was never challenged. 

Maybe I'm Not Superman 

That is, until I was diagnosed with SVT, or supraventricular tachycardia. SVT is characterized by episodes of a rapid heart rate that come as fast as they leave. I would experience a rush of blood to the head, feel light-headed, be short of breath, physically feel the rapid heartbeats, and sometimes experience chest pain. I figured this was just because I was working so hard on the tennis court (or wherever I was when it happened) and that everyone experienced the same thing. 

So I never mentioned it to anyone. 

My mom was a medical reporter at the time for The Plain Dealer and she would always bring her stories home with her to the dinner table, like what she witnessed while observing a back surgery or when a patient had cups of fat scooped out of her that looked like mustard. This habit of hers grossed us out on more than one occasion, but one story sticks out: my mom talked about a story she was working on about the new catheter lab at Akron Children’s Hospital that used new 3-D technology that made it easier for certain heart surgeries to take place without using as much radiation as in the past. 

Who knew I would have surgery in that same catheter lab a couple years later? 

A Former Superman's Kryptonite 

A couple of days before my surgery I had to go in and give a blood sample. My Mom told me not to watch. I didn’t listen and passed out and had to be carried out of the room. I wish there was a funny story to go along with this, but there isn’t. I went home scared to death about what was going to happen just a couple of days later. 

I'm going to be honest; it’s scary. My parents and Dr. John Clark, the director of the Arrhythmia Center at Akron Children’s Hospital, kept reassuring me that my condition wasn’t life-threatening, but I was still very scared. 

I was only 15-years-old and had a lot of stuff I still wanted to do in my life. I had no idea what I was getting into or why this was happening to me, a kid who had never before been in any sort of medical trouble. I spent the entire week before the surgery worrying about what might happen to me: who would get my room if I died, who would take care of my dog, Sophie? I couldn’t imagine not being apart of my family. I found not thinking about what was coming and just living in the present was the best thing to do emotionally, but I couldn’t help but think of how much of a big deal this was for my parents.

From a Cape to a Hospital Gown 

My surgery was scheduled for 8:00 a.m. We got there early, which meant I had to sit in the waiting room of the children’s hospital surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of crying babies for an hour, dressed in nothing but a hospital gown. When my turn came, they took my naked backside into the operating room. The nurses were all very nice. They chatted me up and asked me what kind of music I wanted to listen to during surgery. I told them Frank Sinatra. 

And then I was out. 

When I woke up, I didn’t actually become conscious until several hours later. I drifted in and out of sleep, and it took what seemed to be days (but was in reality only a few hours) to be able to think and move for myself. My father spent the night in the hospital room with me, and together we watched “Everybody Loves Raymond” until he went to sleep. I once again flirted with sleep while nurse after nurse came in to check my vitals and help me relieve myself into a bottle. (I would hate to have that job). For some reason, it got funnier and funnier for me to ask the nurse “Am I alive, doc?” every single time she came in, which was at least once an hour. 

She didn’t find it nearly as entertaining as I did. 

A Superman Recovery

The next morning, I was wheeled around in a wheel chair—not because I necessarily needed it, but because that was protocol and I sort of wanted to—to various rooms in the hospital where I was given an echocardiogram and several other tests to not only show me exactly what happened but also prove to the doctors that they did indeed fix what they set out to fix. Then they gave me some painkillers and sent me home. I had a migraine and they told me it was probably due to anesthesia. The only thing on me that was sore was the tiny incision near my groin where the doctor put the catheter into my artery so he could work on my heart. 

I then spent the next week recovering with mandatory Xbox sessions, lots of ice cream and naps my mom deemed “medically necessary.” 

I was allowed to start playing tennis again a couple days later, but I didn’t attempt it for at least three weeks because I was sort of scared to try it. But as soon as I started running around the court, I felt my heart skip a beat and then start fluttering. I panicked and almost felt like crying. I was sure the surgery hadn’t worked. 

I had to wear the event monitor strapped around my chest again to determine what was going on. The good news was the surgery did work and I wasn’t having another SVT episode. My heart was reacting normally to physical exertion but apparently, I had never experienced that feeling before. 

It was then that Dr. Clark, my parents and I realized I had probably had SVT for a lot longer than we knew. I had no idea what a normal heartbeat felt like. 

Three years post-surgery, I’m doing great. 

Parents, I can honestly say I have no idea what you’re going through to have your child undergo something like this. I did witness firsthand what my parents went through, and can give you advice based on that. 

Here are some things to keep in mind: 

1. Be there: don’t let your child go through this alone. It’s hard enough knowing you have to go through heart surgery, of all things. Yes, medically it’s not that big of a deal. But like most surgeries, it’s a huge deal to the patient, especially if he’s as young as I was. I'm not saying smother him/her, but just be there for him/her, comforting, understanding, and most importantly, loving. It doesn’t really matter what terms you’re on with your child, when he’s broken down to the core, he’ll inevitably reach out to those that are closest to him: his parents. 

2. Relax: Be relaxed and understanding. You’re not helping anyone if you try to go through this process freaking out. What helped so much was my parents acted as if it was no big deal—that did wonders to help me cope. There’s no need to make a bigger deal out of this than it has to be. 

3. Spend the night: Having my father stay with me all night was really helpful. It’s a small gesture, but it meant a lot to have him there whenever I turned over during the night. 

4. Don’t smother: One of the things my parents did to let me regain some of my dignity was let me feel like I was independent enough to handle this, even though I was completely dependent on them every minute. 

What I Know Now...

I went through this process with my parents, but it was the first time any of us had faced anything like this. So, knowing how hard that was, here are some things I wish we would have known: 

1. How good the surgeons are at what they do: Prior to this procedure, I thought no matter how “minor” the operation was, something could go wrong. However, I realized by going through it personally how easy this operation really is and how good the doctors are at performing it. They said at the beginning there were indeed risks, but they only tell you what can go wrong because they’re supposed to. I didn’t necessarily believe the doctors when they said the possibility of risk was slim, but I definitely do now. 

2. Do not watch them take blood from your arm: I know you’re going to want to watch it but don’t. Fight the temptations; fight the urge. Trust me, don’t watch it. 

Advice for Kids Going Through The Surgery

Kids going through the surgery, this next part is for you. I'm going to give you some advice on how to handle things, what to do and what to expect. It’s frightening, I know. There are so many unanswered questions, and I know you are feeling uneasy right now. That’s completely natural and normal. However, there are some things you can do to try to make this process just a little more bearable. 

1. Trust those that are over you: this means doctors, your parents and anyone else who’s “in charge” of you during this process. They know what they’re doing. I know it might not seem like it at times, and sometimes you just want to inform them it’s not actually about them but about you. However, they really do want what’s best for you. I put myself completely at the mercy of my parents and the surgeons, and things worked out perfectly and the surgery went off without a hitch. Your parents really do love you, and they’re doing everything they can to make you feel comfortable and at ease with this entire situation. 

2. Get on your doctor’s good side: if you do this successfully, and your surgeons and doctors legitimately like you, then life gets a whole lot easier for everyone. Not only do your doctors actually feel passionate about making you healthy again, but you also feel better about the entire thing. The nurses are supposed to be nice, but it makes their job a lot easier if you’re easy to be nice to, if you know what I mean. Yes, it stinks being in the hospital and having to do all of this stuff, but this is a nice objective way to make your day and experience just a little bit brighter. 

3. Be good to your parents: they’re just as scared as you are, if not more. All they want is your safety and wellbeing, so just let them worry a little. That’s what parents do. It’s their job to provide for you and make sure you’re safe, so just let them do their job. 

4. Relax: don’t get yourself all worked up over something that is considered a minor surgery. It’s a big deal, huge in fact (I mean it is heart surgery), but there’s no use in spazzing about something that you don’t need to spazz about. Be calm, be cool, be collected and you’ll get through it just fine.

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