An Open Letter to My Miracle Workers
My name is Angela Hoffman (or “Angie Peterson” in my childhood) and I turn 40 years old this month; the age when people generally consider themselves officially “getting old.” And getting old is hard — what with the aches and pains, grey hairs, and slower metabolism. But because of my congenital heart defect, I grew up unsure I would ever make it to “getting old,” so this is a great day for me.
To celebrate, I want to personally thank the amazing healthcare providers who have made it possible for me to reach this milestone in my life. On a day when people traditionally lament being “over the hill” with black banners and balloons, I am thrilled that I have received dozens more years of life than my family and I ever expected.
The day after I was born, our pediatrician, Dr. Douglas Hacking, noticed an unusual murmur in my heart and arranged to have me seen at Primary Children’s Hospital. I was diagnosed with a single ventricle, transposition of the great arteries, and related complications.
I had my first open heart surgery at five weeks old, and a fontan four years later. From the beginning, Dr. Garth Orsmond guided my diagnoses and treatment while Dr. Edwin McGough performed needed surgeries, including implanting a pacemaker when I was nine. Under their care and that of my electrophysiologists, Dr. Victoria Judd and Dr. Susan Etheridge, I lived a very normal life through my teenage years performing in choir and theater productions, taking piano and dance classes, travelling with my family, enjoying time with friends, and even serving a mission for my church in Missouri. At age 23, I married my wonderful best friend, James Hoffman.
James was my anchor when it was time for a fontan conversion performed by Dr. John Hawkins. That was my last surgery at PCMC before we moved to California, where I was treated by Dr. Anne Dubin, Dr. Daniel Murphy, and Dr. George Lui at Stanford. After nine years there, we spent three years in Oregon with Dr. Craig Broberg at OHSU. We recently moved back to California and our Stanford team. It would be impossible to enumerate all the cardiologists, EPs, NPs, surgeons, hepatologists, residents, nurses, and support staff who have cared for me at each of these facilities.
After many set-backs, hospital stays, and procedures throughout my adult life, I was recently introduced to Dr. Jeffrey Teuteberg. He and Dr. Lui are preparing me for the not-too-distant day when I will say goodbye to my miraculous little heart that has loved, has been loved, and has endured so much for 40 years. It’s the most difficult hurdle I’ve yet faced, but I’m sustained by my faith and my family, and by the confidence that my future transplant team will love and support me just as my previous doctors and nurses have.
Earlier this year, after months of arrhythmias and an unsuccessful ablation, Dr. Murphy gently teased my mom, “I always say that if Angie has any luck at all, it’s bad luck.” …but I cannot agree. Over the years, countless healthcare workers have not only preserved and extended my life, they have also taught me patience, curiosity, compassion, self-advocacy, creativity, and honesty. In their care, I have experienced more than luck; I’ve experienced miracles.
If you are among them, I honor you for the selfless work you do. And I thank you — literally — with all my heart.
With love and gratitude,
Angela Hoffman
