I love my heart
Sept. 27, 2025 is now my other birthday because that was the day I survived a quadruple heart bypass, the first day of my new lease on life. It was a high-risk operation that I prepared for at St. Luke’s Global. My mindset was focused on survival so I fortified my mind, body and soul. I sought guidance from mortals and the divine. And I made sure laughter would have a space in my heart—in my bypassed heart. It helped that before and after operation, I was a happy spirit. That natural happiness quotient figured prominently in my survival kit.
When I woke up in the recovery room after my surgery, my first thoughts were of God and Ariel, the Little Mermaid. The first words I said when I was extubated were: “There is a God.” And perhaps because I was still heavy with anesthesia, I sang Part of Your World right after I thanked God. You see, the night before my surgery, a nurse came to my hospital room to ask me what kind of music I wanted to hear in the recovery room. I chose Disney and Broadway. But I already sang long before they could play my chosen music. The doctors, nurses, and I laughed — that was less than 20 minutes after my 3.5-hour operation. Yes, I woke up so fast that the experts attending to me dubbed me both a “miracle and model patient.”
Amid my hoarse laughter, I noticed a red, fluffy, heart-shaped pillow resting on my chest. It came in handy because I was instructed to hug the pillow tightly every time I laughed, coughed or sneezed to cushion the pain. It has now become my security blanket. I knew I went under the knife but I had yet to see the incisions. For a moment, I forgot about the wounds because the polyester cover of the soft heart provided warmth to my cut and stitched sternum. It reminded me of the warmth of my childhood during Christmastime when my mother would bundle me up with a red, hand-me-down wool sweater because it would get windy in Gulod and the four walls of our humble home could barely protect me from the gusty breeze. I welcomed the pillow like it was a part of me and my distant past. When I lifted it, it felt light but full. The pillow’s lightness made me smile when I read the words written on it: “I love my heart.”
From then on, I told myself, I will love my heart for the rest of my life. And loving my heart is a serious affair—between me and my cardiac rehab nurses and physical therapists. Twice a week, now as an outpatient, I am under the care of Khris Rodriguez, Jen Pagawitan, Elsa Jean Hernandez, Aila Lobete, Art Mopera and Kat Nasser. They make me wear a telemetry bag (a lightweight pouch that holds a cardiac monitor for my at-the-moment ECG, blood pressure and oxygen level) before I begin my exercises. The cardiac rehab department is headed by Dr. Eduardo Yambao Jr.
They make sure my almost two hours at the gym are all worth it as I do my stretching and calisthenics. Then any of them guides me to the treadmill and the stationary bike. The stationary bike can never substitute for my mountain bike but it’s a good deal at the moment. Lately, they have added two more machines: the rowing machine and the arm ergometer. The former is used to exercise my whole body; the latter, to fortify my arms. Now added to my warm-up exercises are two 2-pound dumbbells and two 2-pound ankle weights. All machines and weights will prepare me for my eventual plan of going back on my bike saddle. I am told by the medical experts that I can bike again in February next year. My heart, so to speak, is leaping out of my cut sternum.
It was explained to me by my cardiologist, Dr. Leni Iboleon-Dy, that my rehabilitation would start ASAP while I was still in confinement. She explained that cardiac rehab enhances cardiovascular health; reduces, if not rules out, the risk of future heart problems; and improves my quality of life with a set of exercises at the hospital’s gym supervised by experts.
On my second day after being operated on, while I was still at the cardio care unit, my PT Aila came to see me for my first cardiac rehab treatment. The nurses made it known to her that the day before, less than 24 hours after my surgery, I walked a fair distance at the CCU. She made me walk on the treadmill for eight minutes and ride the stationary bike for another eight minutes on my fourth day after the operation. No pain! (Thank God my pain meds are only on standby from the day I was sent home from the hospital on Oct. 4.)
My recovery was swift and easy because I was strong when I went under the knife. Add to that my biking exercises every day for three hours. But the “dream team” at the cardiac rehab department believes it’s my mindset that makes me recover every day. This is my new life; I will not allow myself to be sideswiped by the small stuff. I have a strong mind.
Dr. Ramon Diaz, my heart surgeon, also explained that rehab is important because the possibility of experiencing stress and depression is real as I convalesce. He even gave me a handbook on what to expect while I am on post-op phase. It has become my go-to reading material every time I feel something strange taking place inside me. Or inside my brain. I experienced mental distress for a couple of days. But, as Khris told me, “There’s nothing a good deep breathing cannot heal.”
Aila demonstrated to me proper deep breathing: inhale by imagining that I am smelling the flowers; exhale by imagining that I’m blowing a lighted candle. If that is not enough, I always have my handy spirometer. My heart had seen celebrations and pains. It had seen miracles and marvels, deceit and discouragement. I opted for momentary sadness not to weigh me down. Inhale. Don’t hold it. Exhale.
One time, Khris corrected my posture. Because my sternum is cut, my tendency is to slouch. When I straighten out my body, there is discomfort in the chest area. I was taught to tuck my chin all the time, and with it follows a straight body. And the correct posture relieved me of the back pain.
I am most excited when I have a cardiac rehab (which is also called cardio rehab) session. That means I show much love to my heart. Truth is, every cardiac rehab day is a heartwarming experience because it becomes a family affair. Each heart patient is accompanied by a loved one. Like a grandfather who gets all the adulation from his grandkids every time he’s cooling down at the gym. A man in his late thirties has his wife rooting for him as he huffs and puffs on the rowing machine. A beautiful mother gets a hug from her daughter before and after her session. A lady is always in a hurry because her friends are waiting for her at the restaurant inside the hospital. A foreign businessman comes alone, but on his phone is his loved ones on a video call. As for me, my youngest brother Rod and my YaLi always provide the much-needed support. (Rod, Yali and I always talk about the “happy” experience of my confinement. There was never a day that we did not laugh in my hospital room.)
At the cardiac rehab gym, there’s love and devotion. And every time I wipe my sweat at the end of the session, I remind myself that I love my heart and I love it so much more now with a new tinge of laughter.