A Heart For Gardening (By guest blogger Shannon Hayes)

Shannon Hayes

When I was a little girl I wanted to be a doctor. I liked gardening and nurturing flowers and vegetables, but more than anything I wanted to be a doctor. I think it was about my junior year in high school that I decided to work towards becoming a cardiologist. I'm not sure why I chose that specific field, but I did.

I always received good grades in school. I have been rightfully accused of being a nerd. When I graduated high school, I had my choice of universities to attend. I chose the University of Michigan, at least partially because the school has prestige, and I was offered a sizable academic scholarship.

I went through undergrad and pre-med without much trouble. I am not saying everything was easy, but there was never any doubt that I would make the grade. When I went into the cardiology program, I was an intern with Dr. Michael Lane; a highly respected cardiologist at the Ann Arbor Heart Clinic. One day we were examining patients, one of whom was a man in his early 50s who had a history of rather mild heart disease, specifically, partial blockage in a main heart artery. He was being examined because of recent chest pain. His name was John Kelton.

When Dr. Lane and I stepped into the examination room #4 where Mr. Kelton was waiting, I was struck by how youthful and physically fit he looked. I was an intern but I had already learned that the majority of cardiac patients were not exactly pictures of health. Anyway, Dr. Lane and I examined John... Mr. Kelton. We listened to his heart sounds and evaluated his recent diagnostic tests. He had undergone a stress test only a few months earlier and everything was normal. Because of the chest pain, there had been a blood test checking John's blood enzymes for anything that might be indicative of a heart attack. Everything looked normal.

John had a great sense of humor. When I placed my stethoscope to his chest to listen to his heart, I inadvertently set it on a shirt pocket holding two movie ticket stubs. John removed the stubs, gave them a quick glance, then jokingly said, "Leatherheads; great cast, terrible movie." He then flipped the ticket stubs up on a countertop.

When Dr. Lane could not hear John's a mild heart murmur through is stethoscope, Dr. Lane shrugged and said, "I guess my ears aren't what they used to be. I can't hear the heart murmur, but then, I can't hear half of what my wife says."

John made Dr. Lane and I laugh when he humorously replied, "Doc, that problem hearing your wife may not be due to your ears."

When we were done with the examination, John thanked Dr. Lane for his time, and then he turned to me and wished me good luck in my career choice. He said that I was sure to make for a fine heart doctor. Like many nerds, I do not befriend people quickly, or easily, but I liked John. He was a soft-spoken, personable man. I warmed up to him immediately.

The next morning I was scheduled to be with Dr. Lane again. I was looking at what was on the day's schedule when I heard from one of the nurses that John and died the night before. The nurse said that she had heard that Mr. Kelton had died in his sleep overnight and though there was not yet a confirmed cause of death, it appeared to be cardiac arrest.

For a moment I was in shock. This man, seemingly healthy one day, was dead the next day. It just seemed surreal. Had Dr. Lane and I missed something during the exam? If we had, I did not know what it could have been. Then I started thinking about not John Kelton the patient, but John Kelton the nice man I had come to briefly know, a nice man forever gone. The thought filled me with anguish.

Still, I thought I was going to get through the morning and my emotional trauma. Then Dr. Lane and I stepped into examination room #4 to visit a patient. There on that countertop were the ticket stubs that had been in John's pocket the day before. It was just too much and I lost it. Right in front of both Dr. Lane and the patient, my breathing went haywire and my hands started to tremble. I quickly excused myself and dashed into the women's restroom where I broke down and cried.

That was six years ago. I'm now about to go to Wahler Florist. I work there in their greenhouse as the horticulturalist. It is where I belong. The most beautiful roses in Michigan can be purchased at Wahler's, at least I think they are the most beautiful. I also grow cucumbers, bell peppers, and different varieties of tomatoes which I sell at a farm market. I have developed this very delectable tomato that I am quite proud of. I call it the Kelton Tomato. It has a pleasant, sweet flavor that's hard not to like.