N.J. man's heart stronger than ever after 17th pacemaker

On a shelf in his aunt's basement, next to the photo albums documenting his youth and games his family played for hours on end when he was growing up, is a box filled with the sum and substance of what makes Augustine Concepcion tick.


Augustine Concepcion holds one of his pacemakers, replaced in March with his 17th pacemaker. Augustine, 38 of Ocean Grove, was born with a Complete Congenital Heart Block, has had 17 pacemakers since he was 2 years old, and over a hundred surgeries.

Nine of them are packed away in a box on Roseville Avenue in Newark, where he returns every now and then from his home in Ocean Grove. He'll pull them out and look at them, reflecting on the nearly 100 operations he's had to endure in his 38 years of life.

He was born with a congenital heart block, a condition in which the normal impulses that make the heart beat are delayed or blocked, and knows he is lucky to be alive.

He is now on his 17th pacemaker.

"They are a part of me," he said.

Concepcion hopes he can find replicas of the other seven pacemakers so he can have a full set.

The 17th was implanted March 11 at the Pacemaker and Defibrillator Center at the Saint Barnabas Heart Center at Newark Beth Israel Medical Center.

In some ways, Concepcion said he viewed himself as guinea pig growing up, when electrical wires in his chest malfunctioned or battery cells became weak and run down. He was in and out of the hospital every two years, sometimes more frequently, getting outfitted for pacemakers since he was 2 years old.

In the beginning, they weren't built to last long, especially for someone as young as Concepcion. He likes to think he burned them out as a kid, but Concepcion was learning something even more valuable. Each time he was hospitalized in Newark, Concepcion gradually became a part of history for having grown up with the development and evolution of the device.

As technology unfolded and doctors tested the boundaries of modern science, the batteries lasted longer and the size of pacemakers became smaller.

"Oh my God, it was like a cigarette box when I had the first one," Concepcion said.

Remember actor James Dean with the pack of Chesterfield cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of his T-shirt. Concepcion said that's what the pacemaker looked like protruding from his chest as a child. He was self conscious at the beach from the scars and didn't take gym class. The stares, the gawking, the questions from people made him uncomfortable.

X-Rays of Augustine Concepcion taken in March of 2009 at Newark Beth Israel Medical Center.

It's not visible anymore. Pacemakers are small and thin now. There are more bells and whistles. They have defibrillators that jolt the heart and they can be programmed to increase function.

"He lived through all of that, all of the problems," said Victor Parsonnet, the doctor who implanted 15 of Concepcion's pacemakers.

"As they became more and more sophisticated, he would get pacemakers with new upgrades because he needed it."

Parsonnet, a pioneer in the field of cardiac pacing and director of the pacemaker center at Beth Israel Medical Center, has taken care of Concepcion since he was a baby and implanted number 17 in March. An expert at his craft, Parsonnet implanted the first pacemaker in New Jersey in 1961.

When they were created, Parsonnet said pacemakers only paced and stimulated the heart and regulated the heart beat. Now they can regulate three chambers of the heart and respond to how fast the heart is working if there's exertion.

Concepcion has congestive heart failure and cardiomyopathy, another condition that weakens the heart muscle. Six years ago, his heart was operating at 10 percent. He couldn't walk up a flight of steps. He couldn't even argue, something he likes to do, without getting winded. He then received a pacemaker with a defibrillator, his third one since 2004. Combined with medication, his health improved.

But there's only so much the pacemaker can do and Concepcion understands that. It can't replace the heart. At some point, a heart transplant is inevitable.

Concepcion, who is single, doesn't complain.

He deals with it and moves on, knowing others in the world are far less fortunate. Over the years, he's even laughed at his situation when family members would jokingly ask if they could hook jumper cables to him to get their car started.

"You have to have fun with it," he said. "You can't take everything so serious."

He stays grounded in his faith and finds solace in the companionship from his dogs -- two Mini Doberman/Jack Russell's. The scars on his chest don't bother him now. For him, they are his badges of honor.

Concepcion worked for a time as a personal chef, but because of his heart condition he is on permanent disability, often volunteering for an Asbury Park community agency that provides services for people who are HIV positive.

For now, his personal museum of pacemakers stay in the box. One day he hopes to put all of them in a display.

The devices, monitored closely by his doctor, have been his lifeline. They are his best friends because they keep him going, even when he didn't think he would make it sometimes.

The last pacemaker to be removed from his chest, Number 16, is a constant reminder. He keeps it in his home in Ocean Grove and it still beeps about three times a day for nearly 10 seconds each time.

Eventually that battery will run out, but Concepcion plans on being around for awhile.