The last time Antisha Anderson was in this third-floor operating room at Long Beach Memorial Medical Center, she was groggy from anesthesia and puzzled by the big, round lights shining down on her.
"They looked like alien eyes," she said, laughing.
The last time Antisha Anderson was in this third-floor operating room at Long Beach Memorial Medical Center, she was groggy from anesthesia and puzzled by the big, round lights shining down on her.
"They looked like alien eyes," she said, laughing.
Anderson, a four-time national youth heptathlon champion and aspiring Olympian, was in that surgical suite Nov. 28 to undergo a rare heart procedure. Returning recently for a visit she was greeted like a friend, not merely a statistical success.
Daniel Bethencourt, the surgeon who removed a myxoma, or tumor, from the upper-right chamber of her heart, said he was thrilled but not surprised by her rapid recovery. "She was the best-conditioned patient we'd seen in a long time," he said, still impressed.
Nurses who knew what she endured hugged her and marveled at her lightness of step and spirit.
But Anderson became solemn when told the purpose of a machine that dominates the room with its spidery arms and cables that tether it to a console on the opposite wall.
Called the daVinci Surgical System, it was used by Bethencourt to excise the tumor that was attached to her tricuspid valve and led her to faint while training in Carson with the VS Athletics Track Club. Bethencourt estimated there are 10 such systems performing heart surgery in Southern California.
She stared silently at this miracle of steel and human ingenuity.
"God is good," she said softly. "It's a whole new life. I can run and I don't have to worry about blacking out or falling down."
Even five years ago, doctors would have had to split her sternum to reach her heart. The trauma would have forced her to wait six weeks to use her arms and three months to attempt any activity.
Instead, small incisions were made on her side, neck and groin to insert miniaturized instruments and a high-definition, 3-D camera. Bethencourt, seated at the console, viewed the images and directed the instruments with hand and foot movements.
Four hours afterward, Anderson was kicking her legs.
"People were saying, 'Did you even have surgery?' " she said. "I guess I was dreaming about running."
Two days later she went home to Little Rock, Ark., where she spent three impatient weeks in bed. Within two months she was cleared to resume training.
"It's such a blessing," she said. "I feel like God gave me this opportunity to tell my story: Hey, I had heart surgery and I'm still training for the Olympics, so I think that's a blessing in itself."