Heart: The Inside Story of Our Body’s Most Heroic Organ

201 Pages·2016·4.82 MB·English

by  Johannes Hinrich von Borstel

HEART
Johannes Hinrich von Borstel is studying to be a cardiologist, and is also one of the
best Science Slammers in Germany. He works as a paramedic in Marburg.
For Michi

Contents
Introduction
1 The Loop in the Heart
How our heart develops, how it is structured, and how its transport
routes work
The longest theatre play in the world
Medics and money before midnight
The body’s highway system
2 Cardiac Congestion
Heart attacks and how they happen
The first time
Of dragon boats and (oar) strokes
3 Russian Roulette with the Heart
The connection between smoking, drinking, and an unhealthy heart
A tar-covered road to the heart
Bomb shots for the heart
Reading coffee grounds from the ground
4 Gridlock in the Heart
Coronary heart disease, arteriosclerosis, and heart failure
Total closure
A tight squeeze
A big heart
5 Eating to Your Heart’s Content
The connection between diet and a healthy heart
Omega-3 or not omega-3, fat is the question!
Eat yourself fit
Should the Easter Bunny go vegan?
Sweet by nature
6 Be Still, My Racing Heart
The heart’s electrical-conduction system, cardiac arrhythmia,
resuscitation, and heart transplants
A jackhammer in the heart
Holiday-heart syndrome: when a trip can make the heart stumble
A naturally integrated pacemaker
If you can see the steeple, the graveyard isn’t far
Quit playing games with my heart
Engine trouble
7 Bedroom Sport for the Heart
A strong immune system, a lot of sex, and what that has to do with a
healthy heart
The sinful way to a healthier heart
The body’s (almost) invincible army
Just a little prick
A red card for the heart
8 Rhythmic Gymnastics for the Heart
The connection between sport, our hardworking blood cells, and a
strong heart
Jump, heart, jump
The fight-or-flight rocket-propulsion system
Seeing red
Red blood cells in yellow jerseys
9 The Pressure Is On
The mechanisms of blood pressure
Checking the boiler pressure
Bottles on the lawn
Beating for two
10 Sleeping Beauty’s Heart
Of (un)healthy sleep, too much stress, lovesickness, and heart
defects
The heart can’t sleep
The lovesick heart
Tic Tac heals all wounds
The holey heart
Conclusion
Afterword
Acknowledgements
Introduction
Everyone has a general idea of what a heart attack is: it’s pretty bad
news, health-wise. It causes chest pain and shortness of breath. Not
infrequently, it can cause our heart, whose job it is to keep pumping
blood through our arteries, to give up the ghost completely. Not good
news at all. Our heart is, after all, the muscle that ensures even the most
far-flung corners of our body, from the tops of our heads to the tips of our
little toes, are kept constantly supplied with nutrients and, more
importantly, oxygen-rich blood. This is, clearly, vital for our survival.
If someone were to interrupt the flow of blood from your heart to your
brain even for just a few seconds, your body would react as if you had
been hit over the head with a blunt instrument: you would lose
consciousness, and whether your brain would be much more than jello or
pudding afterwards is doubtful at best. This is because our brain doesn’t
handle oxygen deprivation very well at all. So, our heart beats —
sometimes faster, sometimes slower, sometimes even seeming to stand
still for a brief instant — an average of 100,000 times a day. Each time it
contracts, it moves about 85 millilitres (2.8 fluid oz.) of blood, which
makes approximately 8500 litres (over 2245 gallons) per day. We would
need a tanker truck to transport that amount of liquid around with us. It’s
an impressive performance!
A heart attack was the reason I never got to meet my Grandpa
Hinrich. He died more than a decade before I was born, after collapsing
with pains in the chest and shortness of breath. Looking at the big black-
and-white picture of him on my grandmother’s living-room wall, I always
used to wonder what it would have been like to meet him. Ironically, he
looked so robust in photos! I could never understand how such a small
thing could bring down such a fine figure of a man.
And so, from an early age, I began to devour all the textbooks and
illustrated volumes I could lay my hands on that contained any
information on the heart and how it can fail. My parents rewarded my
interest by giving me more reading material, and I gradually began to
develop a real fascination for all the processes that go on inside the
human body. That was when I decided I wanted to work with nature and
human body. That was when I decided I wanted to work with nature and
medicine when I grew up. I was determined to become a scientific
researcher or perhaps a doctor (Plan B: street musician). And I wasn’t
content with just reading: I also collected everything from mouse
skeletons to tortoise shells — anything that could help me gain a better
understanding of the body.
When I was 15, I decided to make good use of the school holidays,
put my books to one side, and apply for work experience at a veterinary
clinic. Nervously, I dialled their number. I heard the phone ringing at the
other end of the line. Four rings, five rings. With each second, I became
increasingly anxious. Seven rings. Just as I had convinced myself that no
one was going to answer, someone did pick up the phone. A woman’s
voice spoke in a business-like monotone.
‘He-hello … ?’ I stammered. ‘Is this the veterinary clinic?’
‘Yes. How can I help you?’
I mustered all my confidence and replied: ‘My name is Johannes von
Borstel. I’m looking for some work experience during the holidays and …’
The voice interrupted me, ‘What year are you in at school?’
‘I’ve just turned 15 and I’m in Year Nine.’
There was a heavy sigh at the other end of the line. ‘Let me tell you
straight out, there’s not much chance of you doing work experience here.
Sometimes, if we have an emergency situation, we might have to cut a
dog right open without so much as a by your leave. You’re too young to
be watching that kind of thing.’
Too young? Surely not. Too squeamish? Possibly. That was precisely
what I had to find out. It was the very thing I wanted to experience
firsthand, to gain an insight into what happens beneath the skin, and to
see with my own eyes all the goings on inside us mammals. How could I
come by such an opportunity? I had no choice but to take the bull by the
horns: I sent out more applications, including one to the emergency unit
of my local hospital.
Two days later, the letter I had been eagerly awaiting arrived. A
positive answer! And — I could hardly believe my luck — in the
emergency department! At the time, I had no idea of the significance that
piece of paper would have for my life. It was nothing less than my
entrance ticket to a future more exciting than anything I had yet
experienced.
The night before the first day of my work experience, I couldn’t sleep. My
head was buzzing with thoughts. Images of frantic emergency
procedures, demigods in white coats fearlessly defeating every kind of
disease, gaping wounds gushing with blood, and me in the midst of it all.
I was wracked with nerves. What kind of medical cases would turn up the
next day? What would I be expected to do? What would happen if I made
a mistake? Might I make such a serious blunder that someone could
actually die? And would it be my fault? I had no idea of the procedures on
an emergency ward. My only preparation was a first-aid course I’d done.
‘JOHANNES!!! FOR GOD’S SAKE! GET IN HERE NOW! HOW COULD
YOU BE SO CARELESS?!’ The voice boomed across the entire
emergency ward.
Oh no, I thought. I’ve really messed up. And on my first day, too.
Following the direction of the voice, I hurried across the ward and into the
room I figured the ominous words had emanated from, to be confronted
with a tragic scene. A doctor and an assistant stood before me, snorting
with rage and glaring at me accusingly. Succumbing to the unstoppable
force of gravity, drops of liquid were dripping onto the floor, where they
formed a very conspicuous puddle.
‘YOU’VE REALLY MESSED THIS UP! THERE’S NOTHING MORE
WE CAN DO. THAT’S IT NOW!’
I nodded, guilt-stricken, and looked away in shame. I had
overreached myself. Then came the staccato orders from the doctor:
‘Clean up this mess. The boss will be here any minute. We can’t let him
see this. He won’t like it at all!’ The assistant nodded in agreement and
left the room. I pulled on some gloves, grabbed a roll of paper towel, and
tore off a few sheets to soak up the accident. When the roll was finished
and there was still no end to the deluge in sight, I threw in a towel for
good measure.
I was just about to throw the rather pungent bundle in the bin when
the senior consultant suddenly loomed up before me. ‘Johannes? Have
you put some coffee on?’ He grinned, eyeing the dripping bundle in my
hands.
‘In 15 minutes …’ I stammered. ‘I’ll need to put a fresh pot on.’
The first mistake of my medical career: incorrectly filling the coffee
machine, transforming it into a coffee-spouting gargoyle. Disastrous! It