The heart of the matter is,  that it’s a matter of the heart

Fewquandie, Barry N

doi:10.5694/j.1326-5377.2008.tb01794.x

Topics

W hen I first learned about the Dr Ross Ingram Memorial Essay Competition through the Healthy Vibe section of Deadly Vibe magazine, I realised it was an opportunity to publicly discuss an issue of significance to all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous alike.

Specifically, the issue is about cardiovascular health, rehabilitation and, more to the point, the levels of participation and non-compliance with treatment of people affected by cardiovascular disease.

Like Ross Ingram, the Koori GP after whom the essay competition is named, I have been directly affected by heart disease. As I read about Dr Ingram and how heart disease cut short a dedicated young Indigenous leader’s life, I decided to do something to sound a warning and be a positive influence on others.

I tell my story to raise awareness of cardiovascular disease, which is claiming the lives of our brothers, sisters, uncles, aunties and grandparents. I would also like to discuss what actions we can take to help our people, the Indigenous community and ourselves.

First I will give some background information about myself. I am 41 years young, of Aboriginal and Australian South Sea Islander descent. At 39 years of age, I experienced an acute myocardial infarction (commonly referred to as a heart attack). I mistook the severe chest pain for heartburn or indigestion, and did not present to a GP until the following morning.

On examination it was clear that I was experiencing acute coronary syndrome. Within less than an hour, I was an inpatient in a hospital coronary care unit receiving all the necessary acute care available.

Eventually I was diagnosed with cardiovascular disease (ischaemic heart disease). I was told I had a 99% blockage of the left anterior descending coronary artery and that 10% of my heart was damaged irreparably.

Surgery was ruled out, as the affected area was “dead” because I had not recognised the symptoms of a heart attack at the time. Had I sought medical assistance earlier, I might have received thrombolytic medication designed to dissolve the blockage. I did not know any of this information — knowledge is power.

I was in total shock and denial when told by the attending GP what was happening inside my body. I thought, “This doesn’t happen to youngish people like me — only to older people in their 60s and 70s!” However, on reflection, all the signs were there:

I smoked 30–40 cigarettes per day;

I used and abused alcohol habitually and heavily;
My diet included anything, any time I wanted, regardless of nutritional value;
I had not exercised regularly for over 10 years; and
Both my parents had experienced cardiovascular health conditions.

On reflection, my behaviour seemed as if I was determined to self-destruct. After adjusting to the new reality that I had experienced a heart attack and survived, I realised it was time to make some deadly serious lifestyle improvements as soon as possible.

The changes I made included decisions to attend and complete cardiac rehabilitation, to seriously consider therapeutic lifestyle changes and to comply with all prescribed medications and subsequent follow-up appointments. After I was discharged from hospital, I quit smoking immediately (and have not looked back); completed a hospital-based cardiac rehabilitation program; began to exercise regularly (resulting in gradual loss of 20 kg of excess weight); stopped all use of alcohol; and adopted a low-sugar, low-salt and low-fat diet, including avoidance of red meat and experimentation with low-fat, low-calorie, vegetarian alternatives.

From my perspective, I have been given a second chance. I tell people (anyone who will listen) that surviving a cardiac event can present opportunities to make quality-of-life improvements. A heart attack need not be a death sentence.

My health and fitness levels have improved dramatically. I have 10–15 kg more to lose, but I know it’s possible now. I have also experienced a spiritual awakening that, in turn, has led me to renew my faith and commit to a purpose-driven life.

Despite all this, it took a surprising amount of time to regain my confidence and a healthy level of self-assurance. When this finally happened it was, I think, an outcome of participating in rehabilitation and self-management measures, like taking greater responsibility for my future health. A major factor in my recovery was support from family and friends. It was the existence of these interdependent relationships that was very important in helping me to find my equilibrium again.

Cardiac rehabilitation and Indigenous health management in the broader context of cardiovascular health have become important matters for me since my recovery. Even though I have plenty of fight in me, I am always conscious of the need to not overcommit myself. All the while, there is a sense of impending urgency to give back to others in the Indigenous community who also need assistance. I think of others who don’t know or understand what is happening to their bodies. They may not know how to cope with surviving a cardiac event or heart surgery, and may not be aware of what they can do to reduce the risk of future cardiovascular damage.

The journey from cardiac patient to cardiovascular health advocate

There were many uncomfortable changes after my heart attack.

I was left without a job, as my previous employer decided I was an unacceptable risk as a fly-in-fly-out plant operator on Cape York Peninsula. My personal and social life disintegrated due to psychological aspects such as unanswered questions, post-traumatic stress, self-imposed social isolation, depression and anxiety. Eventually it was family and true friends that made the difference by being there when it really mattered.

Prior to operating machinery for mining companies, I had been an Indigenous community development worker, so I decided it was time to do a refresher course at TAFE* to update skills I hadn’t used for over 10 years. With updated community services knowledge and abilities, I approached the Cardiac Rehabilitation Coordinator at Cairns Base Hospital and the Wuchopperen Health Service, offering to serve as a volunteer in some capacity. Their eager response was surprising and welcome. They were keen to try something different to improve Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander (ATSI) cardiovascular health. We discussed employment in a mentoring/coordinating role in an Aboriginal Medical Service-based outpatient cardiac rehabilitation program.

* A Technical and Further Education college.

We had several discussions by phone and email about matters that concerned me. I noticed that many of the Indigenous people admitted to the coronary care ward did not go on to attend rehabilitation sessions. I noted the age differences between Indigenous and non-Indigenous people affected with cardiovascular disease, and thought about the reasons why I had not enjoyed the hospital-based cardiac rehabilitation sessions. I was very curious about what was happening to all those Murri and Islander people once they were released from hospital.

Indigenous cardiovascular health began to affect me again personally only a few months later, with my older brother (aged 45) experiencing heart problems resulting in several unstable angina events, arrhythmias leading to unconsciousness, and several minor heart attacks. He required triple coronary artery bypass graft surgery and a permanent pacemaker, and has to take medication for the rest of his life.