“Exploding Heart”: Husband Bob Lived Through It; Senator Lindsey Did Not
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What killed Lindsey Graham struck my husband Bob Dick nine-and-a-half years ago. For about an hour and a half back then, I was pretty sure Bob was gone.
The Night of the Explosion
The ailment– aortic dissection at the ascending arch–is when the inner layer of the aorta breaks and blood starts ballooning the outer layer at the place where the force is greatest. This quickly kills about three-quarters of those afflicted and can lead to death years later.
Bob has survived because he got help fast and because he had a very good surgeon and because luck was with us. We had been eating dinner at La Farm Bakery Cafe. He said he needed to go home because his jaw was hurting (Moral of this story: if you have jaw pain, get help fast.) I arrived home about 15 minutes after him. When I walked in, he was standing in the kitchen, said, “Take me to an urgent care.”

“This Is A Big Deal”
Being completely unaware of the implications of this symptom, I thought this was a little extreme, but fortunately did not say so. We set out looking for a clinic that was open…and arrived at the WakeMed ER in Apex. As he went through various tests, his pain vanished. He wanted to go home, but staff persuaded him to take one more test. Then the doctor came in and drew him a picture of the artery bulging next to his heart. He was startled to hear that he’d soon be traveling by ambulance or helicopter. “This is a big deal,” the doctor said.
It took an hour for this ER doc to arrange for bed and surgeon. I was on edge. It now seemed clear to me
that he could die any minute. I asked a nurse if I was right about that. All he said was, “It’s a good sign that he’s not in pain.” Obviously a dodge. Bob could have died any minute.
The doc on the phone did a great job. By the time I got to Bob’s room in Duke Hospital that night, a surgeon who specialized in aortas, Dr. Ryan Plichta, was standing beside Bob’s bed, with a second surgeon in the room. Dr. Plichta said death was one of the risks of the surgery.
The Forever-Vivid Memory
The most tender-to-the-touch memory of my life was seeing Bob as he was rolled to surgery twisting his head back to meet my eyes one more time. But it was too late. The gurney was moving too fast.
Around three the next afternoon, Dr. Plichta came to the waiting room to report. He looked exhausted and unhappy. Bob’s alive, he said, and stable, but he didn’t know if he was going to wake up. Ever. His aorta had fallen apart during the surgery, he’d had to slow blood to other systems while he did the massive repair. If Bob did wake up, he might be badly damaged.
I was able to see him an hour and a half later. In that interim, I thought I’d lost him. When I went to his room in the ICU, Bob woke up within a few minutes. A nurse reported that he had smiled once when he was first brought in.![]()
He did wake up fully and fairly quickly with no sign of damage. In fact, he woke me up the next morning, when I was finally getting a little sleep. “It’s 9:30,” he said as if I were delinquent in sleeping so late. “Hand me my computer.” Then, operating on all eight cylinders, he started cancelling the day’s appointments with his psychotherapy patients.
I was astounded. He was altogether fine. None of his organs or systems were damaged.
The Oldest Patient?
And now it has been almost a decade. His cardiologist marvels, has told us more than once that Bob is his oldest patient. “Nine years!” he says. And that’s wonderful, but I would prefer to think that nine years and more is what any survivor can expect, that the explosion, once repaired, poses no further risk.
Bob has lots of ailments now, needs 24/7 care, which is for me challenging, sometimes scary, often daunting and tiring, Most important though, I’m happy I get the chance to do it. He’s still fully Bob and his great heart is doing just fine. Reading the news this week is a sharp reminder of how differently that night might have turned out.
So if your jaw hurts, get help fast.
With love,
Peggy
Categories: Uncategorized
Tags: 24/7 care, aorta breaks, aortic dissection at the ascending arch, artery bulging, Bob Dick, Duke Hospital, exploding heart, going to wake up, jaw pain, La Farm Bakery, Lindsey Graham, Ryan Plichta, urgent care, WakeMed ER in Apex


Comments
Peggy, I so much treasure every opportunity to read your posts. And, as a former psychotherapy patient of Bob’s, I especially treasure this one. Clearly, the logistics of that dining outing of nine and a half years ago were dicey: you two driving separately; Bob having to drive a number of miles alone even though he detected signs in his body’s being in dire need of medical attention; him having to wait 15 minutes for you to arrive behind him; you having to drive him a good number of miles and minutes to find an open urgent-care clinic. That could make a gripping few minutes of dramatic motion picture, as it remains a gripping memory for you. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you, Moristotle. I was blissfully ignorant during that drive, but was never able to go back to the novel I was reading as I waited in that ER. I’m don’t think Bob knew on the drive to ER that his situation was dire. I think he just wanted the pain to stop.(Will ask him.) When he told the receptionist that he was having jaw pain, she said, “You’re very calm.” At that point, I wondered that she thought he should be agitated. A few tests later, I caught on.
This was heart pounding account — and beautifully written. What I like most is the love that resonates in every word.
Your last observation makes me smile, Ruth. I did write about this back when it happened, but I didn’t need to look back at that version. It’s still so clear. And, as often is the case, it was relieving to write.
I remember when we first heard about Bob’s heart problems, and we feared the worst. We were so grateful that it wasn’t as we had feared, and even more grateful that we were able to visit you and see you both doing so well. I hope you have many more happy years and precious times together.
We wish the same for you two, Penny! Thank you.
Peggy, how harrowing for you! That is sort of how I felt when Jim had his massive stroke in 2014. Little did either of us know how serious it was ( you and I) . It’s interesting that neither Bob nor Jim realized how close to death they were. But at least, Jim didn’t drive himself to the hospital. I’m so happy for the two of you that he not only survived, but seems to thrive… no doubt your quality of care is the reason!
I think you know more about all this than I do, Judy. You and Jim went through so much, such a long hospital stay. I’m doing the best I can with the caregiving, but it usually feels as if I’ve just barely cobbled together what’s needed. Thanks for your kind words.
Thanks for sharing, Peggy. May Love and Light surround you now and always. — Brent
When I hear from you about something like this, Brent, I always think about what you’ve been through, I hope your new life is going great.
I never knew the full story!! What an odyssey! Hugs to both of you!!!
Thanks, Tam. Jan said she hadn’t either. I thought I had shared every detail repeatedly.