If you've been pondering my whereabouts for the past few days, I'll tell you where I was: In a bed at Trinity Hospital. Here's what happened.
On Wednesday morning at about 4:30, I awoke with a nagging pain in my chest. I diagnosed a case of indigestion and got up to get a soothing drink of water--which didn't help. My chest pain continued. And I was also becoming aware of a weird feeling in my chest, sort of like a little bird fluttering to get out. And I was light headed. Better take my blood pressure, thought I.
So I got out my blood pressure monitor. At first I wasn't able to get any BP at all. Just an "error" message. I thought the machine wasn't working so I looked for new batteries, but couldn't find any. Meanwhile, the chest pains and the fluttery little bird continued, and the light-headedness was getting worse. I tried the BP monitor one last time and this time got a reading--in the stratosphere.
I called 911--the first time in my life I've called them for me.
You would not believe the show of local emergency power that descended on The Yellow House. Ambulances, fire trucks, emergency vehicles, and enough paramedics to fill my living room and spill over into the dining room. Scared the pants off Skipper and pissed Sophie off.
At first, the paramedic guy wasn't able to get a BP either. Had to go to one of those many trucks and get a different monitor--which showed the same thing I had found--a BP and pulse rate in the higher realms.
I was strongly advised, in not so many words, to get my butt into one of those waiting vehicles and let them transport me to the hospital; and I did, albeit reluctantly. Daughter Andy met me there.
In the emergency room, where my symptoms continued, I was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation, a condition, I'm told, in which the heart's atria begin the fibrillate. Yeah, I know. I didn't know what it was either. But it seems that the electrical impulses to the heart get all askew and the heart doesn't so much beat as it flutters, sometimes very fast and irregularly.
I was given an injection of blood thinner in my tummy (didn't hurt but scared me) and hooked up to an IV of corti-something--cortison maybe, or cortisol. I didn't quite catch that. In a half hour or so, my heart rate had settle down to nearly normal and my blood pressure too. And I was admitted to the hospital.
All day Wednesday, I was kept hooked up the corti-something drip and a heart monitor, stabbed with various hypodermic needles collecting my blood, and denied food and drink. Andy stayed with me, although I tried to get her to go to work. Nothing doing. She finally left in the evening when it became evident that I was lots better and no doctor was going to show up to talk to us.
The next day, the fun began. I had an echocardiagram and nuclear stress test, and I gave up vials and vials of blood from my circulatory system--and was finally given food. By darktime, I gave up hope that I was going to get to go home. But surprised, surprise! Dr. B. showed up at about 6:00 p.m. with an excellent report. He told me that all the tests showed that I had a strong, normal heart. No heart attack, no damage at all--and he just couldn't say what had brought on the afib attack. He said it might never happen again--but then it might. If it does, he'll think about putting me on blood thinners, but not now, thank goodness. He did increase my blood pressure medicine (doubled it actually) and put me on aspirin.
And let me go home.
Sophie and Skipper were just too too happy to see my. Sophie actually cried, I think. Skipper ran and got Blue Toy and played me a tune. Ramey came and brought me a card (see photo above). That's Raylan Givens from the tv show "Justified." We watch that show together every Tuesday night. Raylan is very good-looking but tends to be on the non-compassionate, extremely violent side. We're considering whether or not watching Raylan in action brought on my attack.
So there you are. I'm here with what may or may not be a heart condition. I have decided that I will just go about my life as usual and cross that bridge if and when it becomes apparent. I choose for now to think that what I suffered was a one-time event that will never happen again.
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