In October 2010 my heart’s EKG looked like a grandchild had scribbled across the chart with a crayon. Two days later I had an echogram and appointments with a cardiologist and sleep specialist. This is an update of my heart team’s performance.

My cardiologist diagnosed a cardiomyopathy because my left ventricle pumped 35-40 percent of the blood available versus the healthy 55-60 percent two years earlier. He doesn’t know what damaged it.

He prescribed medications to lower my blood pressure and warfarin to prevent strokes. I monitor my blood pressure daily because if it’s too low my heart could stop beating. Afraid of a stoppage, Karen learned heart resuscitation techniques. I’m glad she’s on our team.

The medications rest my heart and could allow it to heal itself. One-third of medicated patients improve, one-third stabilize and one-third decline, but he’s unable to predict which. I predicted mine would heal based on a headline announcing hearts could heal themselves.

Monitoring my blood pressure is illuminating. I noticed it rose when I stewed about some perceived personal slight, so I’m stewing less. I’m reducing stress in everything I do, or so I pray.

At my first sleep study, a study I wish I’d insisted on four years earlier, the specialist put me on a sleep machine after apneas caused me to stop breathing 80 times. After several trials, the doctor prescribed a BiPAP machine that has reduced my apneas from thirty-one times per hour to less than five.

The machine pleases my cardiologist because apneas cause the brain to shock my heart into forcing blood into my lungs. About half of his patients on sleep machines are cured. Mine’s a hassle to set up and maintain. The mask pinches and air burps noisily.  The machine reminds me I’m handicapped and I thankfully wear it every night, all night.

My search for information about healing hearts led me to add daily dosages of nutritional supplements. The most important step was frequently sharing (my wife says obsessively sharing) my condition and supplements. A friend unexpectedly sent a book, people confessed they had similar maladies and many gave me excellent referrals.

The second step was sharing potential dosages and frequencies with my caregivers. They’ve been collaborative. They’ve advised me and warned me. They’ve updated their records. They’ve revised blood tests and schedules to monitor interactions with my medications. They exemplify individual care. And Karen regularly keeps me honest, “I hope your doctors know what you’re doing.”

I’d read a dog helps heal hearts, so we rescued Haley, a 14-pound joyously mixed breed with a beagle tail at half a beagle’s size. The tail wags her body. Every morning she prances all over me during my morning exercises. She used to welcome me during my blood pressure monitoring, but readings were too unstable. I shut her out of the bedroom to take them.

Results from my nine-month echogram disappointed me. My heart’s efficiency is unchanged. My cardiologist was pleased, saying, “That’s good.” He reviewed the report showing my heart has no other serious problems. He prescribed yet another medication that allows some patients to heal -- without a clear reason why or which, of course.

My primary physician said, “Listen, that’s a good report. It means you probably won’t go into congestive heart failure and most likely will begin to heal.”

Our team is working, even with gaps in understanding what’s happening. Our plan includes a resting heart combined with reasonable exercise, reduced stress, more joy and nutritional supplements. We’ve prevented further deterioration.

I’ve got to be a patient patient and trust my team and Haley can help my heart heal.