My name is Nancy Hansen, and I’ve been reflecting a lot lately on just how grateful I am for the care and compassion I’ve received at the Heart Institute. It’s hard to find the words that truly capture the depth of my gratitude, but I know how privileged I’ve been to be in such capable, caring hands. This place has set the bar very high.
A little about me first. I’m a proud mom to my son and daughter, both married to wonderful spouses who feel like part of our family. I’m also “Nannie” to two beautiful grandchildren who bring me so much joy. My husband Paul and I will soon celebrate our 36th wedding anniversary, and now that I’m recently retired, we love spending time together outdoors on Mississippi Lake. Life on the water has been a dream come true.
My heart story began early. When I was 19, I was diagnosed with genetic high cholesterol. My father had passed away from heart disease at just 59, when I was 16, and my siblings and I were tested. I was the only one of the four of us with the condition. I was referred to an endocrinologist right away, but with limited medications available at the time and life moving forward with raising a family, I didn’t return for follow-up until my mid-30s. Eventually I joined the Crestor study as the youngest participant and was monitored closely with stress tests. Not long after, I was diagnosed with coronary artery disease.
In the fall of 2017, I was referred to the Heart Institute for an angiogram. The test confirmed blockages, one of which was 70% and in a dangerous spot described as the “y” of a tree branch. It was decided that I would receive a stent, and my procedure was scheduled for January 29th, 2018.
I still remember that day vividly. As soon as the procedure began, I felt chest pain, then pain radiating into both arms, my neck, and jaw. I wondered, “Is this what a heart attack feels like?” The mood in the room shifted immediately. Nurses stayed by my side, holding my hand, rubbing my arm, even wiping away a tear, all while reassuring me I was safe. Those small gestures gave me so much comfort as the doctor fought to manage tears in my brittle arteries. By the end, I had four stents implanted.
When I was moved back to recovery, I suddenly felt the same crushing pain again. A nurse met me as soon as the elevator doors opened, took my hand, and quickly got me connected to an ECG. Within moments, they recognized I was having a STEMI. The calm but urgent actions of the team amazed me. They gave me oxygen, nitro, comfort, and reassurance while preparing to return me to the cath lab. Back with the team, I felt the stroke of a nurse’s hand on my face. It was like she was telling me without words, “We’ve got you.” A fifth stent was implanted, and because of the nurses’ quick actions, I was spared any permanent damage to my heart.
That night, Paul was brought in to see me. We both broke down in tears. He later told me how impressed he was with the speed and attentiveness of the nurses when alarms sounded and I needed urgent care again. Their calm presence carried us both through a frightening time.
In the years since, I’ve continued follow-ups. By 2022, I noticed changes in my breathing, which worsened in 2023. A stress echo revealed concerning results, and after a call from the Heart Institute, I was asked to pack a bag and go to the ER to be admitted. I was shaken, but I agreed.
Once again, the nurses became my anchor. They explained everything patiently, checked in often, and even took moments just to see me as Nancy, not just a patient. One nurse sat beside me while I set up my iPad and asked, “What are we watching?” It was such a simple act, but it meant the world. It reminded me of my daughter and gave me a sense of normalcy in the middle of fear.
The angiogram showed my blockages were stable, which was the best possible news. My medications were adjusted, and before leaving, a nurse carefully walked me through the new regimen. When I asked whether I should keep taking my old medication as well, she quickly corrected me. It was only the new one. Her encouragement to ask that question may well have prevented something dangerous.
Today, I’m doing much better. My energy has returned, I’m less short of breath, and I’ve resumed my regular exercise. I’ve been able to get back to my bucket list, including a lifelong dream trip to Alaska last June. I also celebrated my 60th birthday with my family, a milestone that felt especially precious.
What stays with me most are the countless little moments of compassion that made me feel safe and cared for the handholding, the calm explanations, the laughter, the humanity. I’ve always felt like the team at the Heart Institute was on my side, rooting for me to get back to living the life I love.
