5th January 2008 - Keeping his eye on the finish line
It
was the first holiday Mark Trevis remembers spending with his father.
Leonard was in the floral business and was often away from home, spending
most of his time working. Mark’s parents had bought a little
white cottage atop a hill not far from Ottawa. Once renovated, it
was to be their dream home - the one they’d live in once their
children left the nest. Mark, then 17, was helping his father with
renovations, when Leonard started having chest pains.
“I think we better go to the hospital,” he told Mark,
when the pains persisted.
“I’ll get Mom.”
“No, we don’t have time for that.”
Being a war veteran, Leonard wanted to be treated in a veterans facility.
While Mark held his father in the passenger seat and his brother-in-law
drove, Leonard insisted they pass two non-veterans hospitals. If anything
went awry, he wanted to ensure his wife would be left with the appropriate
insurance.
When they finally reached a veterans hospital, Mark’s brother-in-law
parked and jumped out of the car to open the passenger side for Mark
and his 47-year-old father.
“Thank God you made it,” Leonard said, before collapsing
and dying in Mark’s arms.
Mark now works as purchaser and sales manager for a floral company.
He has two adult daughters and lives with his wife, Erika, in a home
near White Rock beach. Pictures of John Lennon are tacked beside his
computer, which quietly relays the soft twang of a guitar. His balcony
overlooks the waves of the ocean calmly rolling over the beach, permeating
the not-a-care-in-the-world, easy-going lifestyle that Mark once indulged
in.
He loved to party, often going out and drinking with friends. He smoked
up to two packs of cigarettes a day. Although he had a history of
heart disease in his family, Mark hadn’t been one to keep fit.
He may have lifted a couple of weights here and there, but he didn’t
exercise regularly. It wasn’t in his nature to take things too
seriously.
The attitude came with a price. Mark was diagnosed with diabetes in
2006.
He thought about making some changes, but quickly learned it was too
late. It was late morning on a summer day - two months after being
diagnosed with diabetes - and Mark left work early, feeling sick to
his stomach. He thought his blood sugar might be low, so he checked.
It was fine. His heart was hurting though, and thinking it was heartburn,
he lay down. As soon as he did, an immense pressure hit him, like
an elephant stepping into his body and crushing his insides. When
he sat up, the pain eased, and when he got to his feet, he felt even
better. Mark refused to acknowledge he was experiencing anything serious
- in the back of his mind he knew.
His dad had felt the same thing 37 years earlier. Mark was aware what
the next step would be, but was scared to face it. He wasn’t
ready for that. Not yet Twelve hours later, Mark gave in to the pain
and went to the hospital. An angiogram showed he had 10 blockages
in his heart. Five vessels were 70 per cent blocked and two were blocked
completely. The doctors recommended bypass surgery. Mark was terrified.
Mark stayed in Peace Arch Hospital for three weeks before he could
be transferred to Royal Columbian for the six-hour surgery. During
this time, he slipped into depression and fear. He wanted to change,
but didn’t know how. He wanted to turn his life around, but
wondered if he could. Mark spent time praying in the hospital chapel
and meditating. Not being a religious person, Mark didn’t know
who he was praying to, but nevertheless, he asked for guidance. While
the doctors prepared him physically, Mark tried to get ready mentally
and emotionally, but memories of a 17-year-old boy watching his dad
die kept coming back.
The surgery was scheduled for July 21 - the anniversary of his father’s
death. He knew it wasn’t just a coincidence, and tried to turn
the date into a positive. He would claim that day back again, for
his family, and for himself. But it was a challenge to overcome his
fear of death, and he didn’t hide it, especially while riding
in the ambulance towards Royal Columbian with his family. When it
was time to say goodbye and go into surgery, he looked up at his wife.
She was trying not to cry. One daughter, a jokester like himself,
tried to make him laugh. It was her way of dealing with it. His other
daughter just held on. Mark became quiet. There was nothing left to
say.
Drift in...
Mark doesn’t know where he is.
He feels something in his throat. He doesn’t want it there,
he wants to breathe on his own.
Why isn’t anyone taking it out?
A nurse comes over and removes the tube.
That feels better.
Drift in...
The room is empty. Then, three familiar faces come in through the
hallway. Everything is a little more clear now, and he is moved by
the look on their faces.
How could he be so selfish? They are just thankful that their father
and husband is OK. He is alive.
...Drift out.
Bypass surgery reroutes blood around clogged arteries to improve blood
flow. A mammory artery and a vein from Mark’s leg were used
to create new paths for the blood to flow from his heart. The healing
process was painful for Mark and left a deep impact physically, emotionally
and mentally. He felt afraid to do anything, worried he’d put
the vital organ in jeopardy once again. But the image of those thankful
faces looking down on him was imprinted in his mind motivating him
to continue.
He returned to work a few months later, and made four goals for himself.
He was going to do Vancouver’s Sun Run the following year, complete
the Grouse Grind, run a half-marathon and run a marathon. He started
training last January. Mark Joined the Sun Run training program with
Erika, who trained at his side.He felt scared of something going wrong,
but ran at his own pace, doing one day at a time. Come April, he was
ready to race. He didn’t care where he placed - this wasn’t
about winning.
Mark ran with the support of Erika, and recalls feeling overwhelmed
with emotion when he crossed the finish line. Nine months after bypass
surgery, he had completed his first goal. A month later, he found
himself at the top of the Grouse Grind. Two to go, he thought. Not
only was Mark exercising, but he became a vegan as well. He began
meditating and practising yoga and energy healing, trying every natural
path possible to a swift recovery. He knew he could take medication
for the rest of his life – that was easy. But he didn’t
want to rely on drugs for health. He was going to do it himself this
time.
By the time he started training for the half-marathon, he was off
all of his medication. He trained with a group of runners from South
Surrey’s Running Room, who were going to a half-marathon in
the Okanagan. For 11 weeks, he ran four days a week practising tempo
running, long and slow distance running and speed running. Every Wednesday
night for about five weeks, the runners also did hill running. On
the last night, on the last hill, with the fastest time he had ever
made, Mark felt a pain in his heart.
The doctor initially thought Mark had pulled a muscle, but after running
tests, came back with different news.
“Mr. Trevis, I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re
having another heart attack.”
Mark had a blockage and one of the bypasses in his heart was kinked.
His cardiologist was away, and the cardiologist team at the hospital
was hesitant to make decisions without him. To open up the blocked
artery, they used a stent, which was inserted through the femoral
artery in Mark’s leg. Mark wasn’t in immediate danger
from the remaining kink, but was advised to relax until his cardiologist
returned.
It was Sept. 23 and the half-marathon was Oct. 7.
Five days before the half-marathon, Mark’s cardiologist took
a look at the tests.
To fix the kink would require another surgery, but it wasn’t
a necessary operation. As long as he could run, Mark thought, he didn’t
want another surgery.
The doctor thought running would be OK - not realizing Mark meant
a half-marathon, in just a few days. But Mark couldn’t stop
now, not after training so hard for so long.
Prior to leaving for Kelowna, Mark’s running group gave him
a medal, calling him the most inspiring person in the group.
During the 21.1 kilometre-trek, Mark alternated between running and
walking, which seemed to work well. It was at the 17-kilometre mark
that he started to doubt himself. Mark’s leg began to ache -
the same one the stent had been inserted through four weeks earlier.
He looked down and noticed his foot wasn’t hitting the ground
properly. It was twisting to the left, towards his body. He focused
on bringing his foot straight down while running. This concentration
took his mind off the pain and brought him to 19 kilometres. At this
point, Mark knew he could make it. In his mind, he had already won.
Tears began trickling down his face, and he felt a great sense of
appreciation for life - for being able to run. The tears were still
streaming when Mark crossed the finish line. All of his supporters
were there - Erika and the runners he had trained so hard with. If
there was pain in his body, he didn’t feel it. He could only
feel exhilaration - and the beating of his heart.