God Is Big Enough!

It was April 1, 2021, and I pulled up for my follow-up appointment with my PCP for discomfort that I was experiencing. To my surprise, this wasn’t a regular appointment. Not only were we meeting in a conference room and not an examination room, but I was accompanied by my cardiologist and an oncologist. Oncologist? (In my confusion, I’m thinking, “Damn, an oncologist? What does my vision [ophthalmology] have to do with any of this?) C’mon Jeff, tighten up, lol. The Oncologist then shared that I had Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma and that chemotherapy was the likely treatment and without it, my condition could worsen quickly.

 

Me: YIKES!

 

As I am sure you’re wondering, how did I get here or what was I thinking at the moment of my diagnosis? Let's start at the beginning.

 

 

 

 

 

My name is Jeffery Owens. Affectionately known as “Coach Jeff”.

My story goes back to the summer of 2011 when I was living in Dallas, TX amid a graduate program and all seemed well. That was until one day, I was on a treadmill and essentially passed out. The guy next to me said, “You were on a fast walking pace and next thing, I turned around and you were on the floor”.  

 

 

 

 

My mother referred me to Dr. Symanski at Sanger Heart & Vascular Center in Charlotte, NC, who said “Jeff, you have hypertrophic obstructive cardiomyopathy”. Puzzled, all I could say was, “Doc, what the hell does that mean?” He explained, "Jeff, you need a ICD/pacemaker, that way the next time you have an episode, you won't have those deadly arrhythmias". I was apprehensive but eventually agreed to surgically implant the ICD (Implantable Cardioverter Defibrillator).

 

A few years passed from the time I had my surgery and honestly, it really didn’t affect my day to day life. In fact, I forgot that I even had it. That was until Thanksgiving Weekend 2013. I was preparing to return to Washington, DC when my defibrillator/ICD was triggered. Over the next 90 minutes, the defibrillator went off a total of 9 times. Not only was I literally shocked, but all of my biggest fears instantly became a reality. That period immediately following was one of the toughest as my cardiologist decided that I needed to have emergency open heart surgery.

 

 

 

 

Me? Open Heart surgery at age 31? (again) No way, Jose. This can’t be happening. I immediately thought about what Dr. Symanski said about those deadly arrhythmias that the ICD was supposed to correct. I wasn’t sure if it did its job or not, I just knew nothing was the same.

 

I have never admitted this, but, at that point I honestly would rather have died.

 

Surgery was set for January 8, 2014. The preparation for surgery was daunting. With my age, the surgeon gave me a 50-50 chance. I spent the weeks leading up to surgery attempting to right the wrongs and mend any tenuous relationships. Surgery went well, a few complications, but I survived. Took a bit longer, but I survived. It took a lot longer for me to wake up in recovery, but I survived. My mother suddenly passed later that year.

 

A few years after my mother’s passing, I adjusted to life back in DC. Life was not great, but it was beginning to have a new normal. However, at the end of 2019, my family was shaken again with the sudden passing of my older brother. A few months after my brother’s passing, the world changed as we knew it. Covid 19. We were all affected, clearly some more than others. What was deemed as being my new normal once again wasn’t so “normal”.  Again, life is interesting.

 

At the top of 2021, I was experiencing frequent shortness of breath, overall fatigue, lack of appetite and even some weight loss. At the time, I attributed all of that to my (worsening) heart condition. I truly just grinned and bear’d it. If you know me, I am not the complaining type. That's just how we were raised. I made notes and was sure to mention my symptoms to my PCP and cardiologist at my follow-up appointments.

 

Between my PCP and cardiologist, I spent countless hours on appointments and tests spanning the next few months. After weeks of no updates, a conversation that April between my PCP, cardiologist and an oncologist was eye opening. Here I was, thinking it was just more of the same cardiac issues. When we spoke about my diagnosis, I learned that my newest symptoms were my body’s reaction to a form of cancer, Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma.

 

We discussed prognosis, treatment plans and even next steps. In my mind, I only knew of one way to fight cancer, chemotherapy. My cardiologist all but ruled that out. His concern about how well my deteriorating heart could handle a rigorous chemotherapy regimen was legitimate.

 

For the first few months, I didn’t share this diagnosis with anyone. I was simply avoiding it, hoping a mistake had been made, or maybe even hoping it would just go away. Go away? Lol. It did not. I started the regimen August 2021 and hated every moment of it. Chemo kicked my butt. By choice, I dealt with it alone. Very few people knew, but they surely motivated me through the process. I’m thankful.

 

Countless times, I almost quit.

 

At the same time, I am coaching high school football in one of the most competitive conferences in the country. To be honest, those dudes (coaches and players) gave me the strength to keep fighting. When you sign up to coach, the responsibility does not end on the field responsibility, it extends to the classroom, their homes, and their neighborhoods. It's a calling. Truly a 24/7, round the clock responsibility. Some of these kids have fought and experienced losses their entire lives. There was no way I was going to be another “loss”.

 

Without that opportunity, I don’t know where I would’ve found myself. We set a goal in August to first win the City Championship, then the Conference Championship and then to win the State Championship. We did all three and I am so thankful I was there to be a part of it.

 

 

 

 

 

In December, my cardiologist abruptly stopped the chemo.  The chemo was destroying my heart function. Pre-chemo, my EF (ejection fraction) was 32-35. At this time, my EF was closer to 20. My cardiologist brought me in and said, “Jeff, we need to replace your ICD.” I knew that the defibrillator/ICD I had placed in 2012 had an expiration date, so I was not completely surprised. When the cardiologist told me why, I was not so okay. He wanted to replace my single lead ICD with a three lead ICD in hopes a better heart function could be achieved. I was sold on the quality of life improvements. I made a deal with the cardiologist that I would do the replacement if we could wait until we won the State Championship. If we didn't win, I would not be in a rush to schedule the surgery.

We won, so surgery was scheduled for Monday, December 13.

 

 

 

 

For the first few weeks, the quality of life surely got better. I had more energy, slept better and I even got my appetite back. Life was slowly improving.

 

In February, while traveling to Dallas, I suffered a tremendous headache. The migraine came out of nowhere causing blurred vision, a huge thumping, and nausea. I have had migraines before, but this one was different. I was experiencing some balance issues, dizziness and consistent vision loss in my right eye. Historically, these post migraine issues last a few days, maybe a week. This time, a week later, I still had vision loss and overall disorientation. When I got back to Atlanta I was sure to immediately get checked out.

 

A few weeks later (and several rounds of testing), it was confirmed that I didn’t just have a migraine, but an ischemic stroke. My mind was blown.

 

Me, 39? Heart Failure? Cancer? Then a stroke? ENOUGH was enough. I’d rather not.

 

In March 2022, when I thought that life could not get any more complicated, I found myself back in the hospital. This time, my heart rate was 175+ BPM, I couldn't catch my breath and was in a constant state of panic. Finally, one of my bros forced me to go to the hospital. I loathe hospitals. This time, I was hospitalized for 22 days. After the first few days, the cardiac team determined that I suffer from end-stage (congestive) heart failure. I was immediately placed on an IV drip, Milrinone. Over the next few days, my cardiology team determined that I had about 6 - 9 months without an assistive device before the Milrinone would lose its effectiveness. At which point, I will be left with 2 options: a LVAD (left ventricular assistive device) or a heart transplant.  Without either of those, my heart will fail, quickly.

 

Since then, I have been hospitalized three other times totaling nearly 30 days.

 

As of June 2022, I have amassed over $150,000 in hospital bills, not to mention an average weekly medicinal cost of nearly $650. The weight is overbearing, but I refuse to quit.

 

I can't quit. Too many people are praying for my recovery.

 

If you feel compelled to give, I sincerely appreciate it from the bottom of my heart. I thank you, my family thanks you. If nothing else, thank you for taking the time to read my story. I pray that my circumstance can help guide someone else through theirs.

 

For those praying for me, please don't stop. These prayers are crucial and appreciated. Prayer changes things!

 

Thank You!