How this famous singer, her life threatened by heart disease, faced the ordeal of surgery – and won new faith – is told here in her own words.

To consider submitting your own beating heart to surgery is a most frightening thought, I believe, to anyone. I was no exception when, in the fall of 1956, I was faced with this decision. And I, as everyone must do, made the decision in my own way. The mitral valve of my heart was damaged. Without the operation, my career would be ended and my life probably drastically shortened. I went ahead with the operation – and I survived. It is even possible that I shall be able to sing publicly again.

The story of my heart operation and my subsequent recover isn't really anything out of the ordinary today. Successful heart operations have become fairly routine. Bet even 10 years ago the operation I have had was still new. And what makes it important to me – and perhaps to others – is not only that my life was saved, but that this operation led me to the discover of a new kind of faith, and it is this that I really want to tell you about. But to tell my heart story properly, I suppose I should start at the very beginning.

Except that for me there was no awareness of a beginning. Like most children I had my share of colds and other childhood ailments. Apparently one case of what we then called merely a 'sore' throat was in reality a 'strep' throat.

Not too much was known about heart disease or the dangerous results of a strep throat at that time. But today our doctors know that a strep throat is one of the commonest causes of rheumatic fever and often leads to rheumatic heart disease.

Frankly, I didn't know I had what is called a 'rheumatic' heart. For many years I thought of heart disease as something remote and impersonal, never dreaming that rheumatic fever – the one form of heart disease that cripples so many children and young adults – had already begun to leave its dangerous imprint on my heart. Through these years I was dancing and singing in strenuous operatic roles. I was making concert tours from coast to coast. I was making movies and performing regularly on radio and television. This was a full life. A wonderful life. And I enjoyed every minute of it.

But when you consider the quick-change demands, traveling in all sorts of weather, last-minute rehearsals, innumerable benefit appearances, performing under the kind of handicaps that are always present in the entertainment field- it is truly a hectic pace and could be a burden on the healthiest heart in the world, let alone one that had been weakened by a heart condition.

Then suddenly I began to tire easily. I began to experience what all singers fear – a shortness of breath. This bothered me off and on for several years. It also bothered my husband and manager Frank Chapman. He really worried about my health and tried to keep me from overdoing. Gradually, I had to cut down my schedule of performances. No more movies. No more appearances at the Metropolitan Opera. My concert tours were planned so I could have longer rest periods between programs.

Since there seemed to be nothing the matter with my lungs, Frank and my doctor decided I should have a thorough heart examination to determine if some cardiac condition could be causing my shortness of breath and constant fatigue.

You can imagine how anxiously we awaited the results of that examination. Fortunately today doctors have accurate methods for diagnosis of diseases and conditions that affect the heart and circulatory system. And fortunately for me our doctor did not spare me the truth.

The results of the test? Well, is seems that the rheumatic fever I'd had in childhood and which no one knew about had damaged the mitral valve of my heart. This valve was not functioning properly, this seriously interfering with the flow of blood necessary to feed the brain, the lungs, the entire body.

I was told that a recently developed heart operation could correct this condition and that it had been performed successfully on many others – but on much younger persons- who were now enjoying productive happy lives.

The decision to undergo heart surgery was to be solely mine. Naturally I was afraid. Could I find the courage to face this unknown danger?

My personal solution to the challenge of heart surgery was – faith. To me, faith is not a reasoned thing. It is, to a great extent, inborn, but it must be sustained by prayer and help from loved ones. Up to the time of my operation, my faith had seemed to fall into three categories: The inborn faith in oneself, the faith that others inspire in one, and above all – faith in a divine Being.

My father was an extremely religious man and instilled in me a faith in a divine Being when I was very young. He felt that faith and prayer were our God-given weapons against everything harmful, including fear. Perhaps being born on Christmas Day made me more receptive to this faith, which has endured all my life.

When I was just a little girl, someone said, 'This child was born with a song in her heart.' I guess that's because I started singing almost before I could talk. I tried to sing any song I heard. If I didn't know the words, I would hum the melody. My father would stop me when he heard me humming to remind me that “the Word came first.” I’m sure that's what planted in my mind at an early age the firm belief I still hold today – that the most important thing in singing is to make the word live. And I have tried to do that through my singing career.

To make words 'live' successfully in operatic roles and concert singing requires not only years of training and hard work, but also the combination of sustained faith and physical stamina. Neglect any one of the four, and the goal might not be attained.

I started as a professional singer – a church soloist- when I was 13. I had the same faith in myself that all youngsters of that age have. Friends of the family said I had a good voice and even the people in my church approved my singing. But the ensuing years were not so easy as I thought they would be. I learned that having a good voice is much like owning a fine violin. Neither is much use to you unless you know how to play it. The only advantage that a singer has over the violinist or any other instrumentalist is the word, and as my father said: “The Word must live.”

So what I thoug was to be an easy road to success proved instead to be a long and often wearisome road that had to be paved with the hardest kind of work – work that tested my faith and endurance. There was many a night when I knelt down to pray and asked God to help me through, when prayer that I had learned in childhood took on a new meaning.

The faith that others have in you invariable strengthens your own. I have never known anyone who at sometime or other has not needed that extra lift that someone else can give. Whin I was in Florence, Italy, one spring, I met a man named Frank Chapman. A fine singer himself, he seemed more interested in helping and giving faith to others. I have been one of the fortunate ones that he has helped. Whenever I have hit a stumbling block, he's been there to give me strength and to renew my confidence.

But Frank was not with me during the early years of my career, and my own faith and self-confidence were tried at times.

One of my most vivid memories of how prayer helped me was on the night of my first performance in the challenging role of Carmen. It was with the Cincinnati Zoo Opera Company, and we were singing in the open pavilion that stands in the middle of the zoo garden. I was in my dressing room and could hear the night sounds of the zoo inhabitants. You can imagine how distracting and disconcerting such sounds were to an already nervous young singer approaching such a demanding role for the first time.

I tried to concentrate on my entrance in the opera. I couldn’t even remember my opening words, and right then I would have liked to be anywhere else in the world. To be perfectly honest, I was not only distracted by the vocalizing of the ducks and lions: I was downright scared!

It was almost the same kind of panic I had felt the night I was singing a secondary role in 'Carmen' and the great Mary Garden had the title role. At the end of the performance, I heard her calling my name in a voice that rang through the theatre. I was sure I had done something wrong. There was no place to run and hide, so I approached here with fear shaking me like a leaf in the wind.

That wonderful woman took from her shoulders the famous Spanish shawl she had always worn as Carmen, cut it in half, and said simply, 'One half for me and the other for you, my dear. You will be our next great Carmen!'

Mary Garden had expressed her undeniable faith in me. Yet there I was, in the zoo gardens, stiff with fright at the thought of making my debut as Carmen, even though I had worked so long and hard for that moment.

Unconsciously I found myself repeating the words that are the expression of faith for millions of people through out the world: “Our Father which art in Heaven . . .” These living words calmed me and gave me the courage to go on. I found the faith in myself I needed and the confidence in my ability to do the job. And never since has Carmen held any terrors for me.

But the decision to undergo a heart operation was a new experience for me. I began to think of alternatives. Without such an operation, I realized, I might never be able to sing again – and singing has always been life to me. I might never again enjoy the full active pattern of lining that meant so much to my husband and me. There was the real possibility that I might become an invalid and that my life would be greatly shortened. Once again I was faced with fear – the thick crawling kind of fear that seems to engulf the brain, robbing you of the power of clear thinking. I knew that only through faith and prayer would I gain the courage to go through with it.

When I understood all that I was going into, when it was explained to me exactly what they were going to do to repair my damaged heart. I had faith in the skilled hands and minds of my doctors and surgeons. I had complete confidence in them, and decided to go ahead and have the operation.

It was the most important decision I ever made in my life – one that probably saved my life. I went in unafraid and I came out the happiest person in the world. I was singing the fourth day in my hospital bed, grateful to discover that my breathing was miraculously improved. Ten weeks later I appeared on TV on the Edward R. Murrow show for the American Heart Association.

Now, only two years later, I’m resuming my voice studies with the hope that I shall be able to return to the concert stage – to make the Word again live.

But something new came to me with this operation. For the first time in my life of the words “medical research” have real meaning to me. If I hadn't had this operation, I should not have been able to sing again. But more important, if my situation had become critical only a few years earlier than it did, there would have been little possibility of saving my life or my voice. Heart research had only recently made such an operation possible.

And this is even more wonderful – since my operation I have discovered that the children of today do not necessary. Already, our doctors have the knowledge to control rheumatic fever and, to an extent, prevent heart damage that may result. Strep infections are now being recognized and prompt medical treatment is preventing what happened in my case – to my heart.

But the prevention of rheumatic fever does not begin with medication. It begins with the parents. To help safeguard your child's heart, the Hearth Association gives this advice:

If a sore throat occurs suddenly and your child has such symptoms as continuing high fever and difficulty in swallowing, call your doctor. Only he can tell whether your child has a strep infection. If you child does have a strep throat, there is the possible threat of rheumatic fever.

With the wholehearted co-operation of parents, it is comforting to know, thousands of children can now be spared the ravages of rheumatic fever. But only if strep infection is recognized and given prompt medical attention can this be accomplished.

This kind of prevention was not available during my childhood, but I shall be forever grateful for the kind of medical research that now makes it possible to give new life to thousands of hearts like mine.

And so to my three faiths I have added a fourth. To faith in God, faith in oneself, and the faith that others give one, I add faith in heart research. Blessedly it caught up with me in time to save my life the day the song – temporarily – left my heart.

* She was actually born in 1900, but the 1904 date was often used in publications.

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