STILL no country for old men

Damn, I don't feel like an old man! But facts are proving me otherwise. On Wednesday evening, March 24th, I carried three really heavy trash bags of yard debris to the curb for pickup the next morning. After the third one, I realized I was quite out of breath and turned toward the garage. Anne stepped into the garage from the house to check on me and as I walked up to her in the garage, it felt like I had been suddenly electrocuted! A BRIGHT white flash and a jolt that knocked me down and as I went down, I grabbed Anne and fell full length on top of her. She was in terrible pain and I asked her, "What happened?" She said, "You fell." I was trying to figure out how I got electrocuted when suddenly it zapped me again and then I realized it was the implanted defib that was jolting me. It felt as if it was knocking me up off the floor and causing my arms to fly up above my head. The pain was truly like being kicked in the chest by a mule. By my laying on top of her she felt the first two jolts also. Thirty seconds later it happened again and Anne asked if I "could do this...." and I said, "No, call 911." Twenty minutes elapsed from the initial event until the ambulance got there. In that 20 minutes, the defib went off twenty-eight times. After Anne called 911, she came back out and squatted down behind me and held me up while the damn thing went off about every 30 seconds. I didn't think I was going to make it. Anne's back was spasming and her legs cramping from squatting to hold me up and yet she held me tenderly, and strongly, and firmly and kept encouraging me. By the time the EMTs arrived the defib was quiet. They got me "plugged in" and off to Park Ridge Hospital.

By the time we arrived at Park Ridge, I was calm and back to normal. The plan was to stabilize me and transfer me to the VA/Vanderbilt hospital in Nashville. As it turned out in the next day and a half, they had no beds available. So on Friday afternoon, we and the doctors agreed I could be discharged but on Monday, I would have to go to the arrhythmia clinic in Nashville and get checked out. We went home and later that afternoon, the VA called and said the doctor would not be in on Monday, -- come on Tuesday. No problem. I was feeling OK.

Saturday evening just as we went to bed I climbed two flights of stairs -- got to the bedroom, barely, and the first of another six jolts fired within about 15 minutes. EMTs got here pretty quickly, I related the past few days and they highly recommended my going to Memorial Hospital downtown. A TOP 100 hospital in the country. SO we felt it was time to change our medical PCPs and cardiologists -- they said I needed an electrophysiologist -- in cardiology, that's an "electrician" where others are "plumbers." So we were off to Memorial on Sunday morning about 1:00 am. On Tuesday, March 30th (I believe), Dr, Gbadebo performed an ablation -- a procedure wherein they run a wire up through the groin into the heart and try to make the "troubled" nerve endings fire so they can deaden them, one at a time. That's my layman's explanation. It was to have taken about an hour and a half and I wouldn't remember anything. For whatever reason, the procedure lasted five and a half hours and I was NEVER asleep but fully awake and sensitive to the manipulation of the wire. After about ten minutes, I started to move a finger and the doctor said, "You cannot move anything." Are you serious? Not even scratch my nose? Not move a muscle? Yep. So, I laid there 5 1/2 hours unable to move a muscle, fully conscious, sweat rolling down my face and not understanding what happened to the "hour and a half procedure." I was aware when it was getting late -- some nurses left and some were replaced. But we got through it. The procedure is supposed to minimize my A-fib going haywire and causing a seriously imbalanced beating. They told me that in that first episode of 28 firings, there were six times that w/o it, my heart would have failed.

Today, April 10th, I am doing so much better -- almost back to normal except for some frequent "tics" or hiccups" or diaphramatic interruptions, that occur when bending over, or sitting. They may get better, they may go away, or I may have to live with them -- we don't know yet. They are a little tiring. I climbed the stairs to bed last night with just a little "tiredness" -- doctor scolded me Thursday for not doing that sooner. I showered and shampooed by myself this morning. We may even go  out to dinner tonight,,,, He said there was no need for any cardio rehab exercising. I admit there is still some residual fear on both our parts, but that improves with each new thing I do. Anne is doing all the driving and, for that matter, EVERYTHING ELSE. Everything.

I have nothing but praise for the VA but I had to change and have my doctors here and a hospital that will get me in when needed w/o a 2 1/2 hour drive. It will cost more -- our BCBS finds lots of reasons not to pay this or that, but then we enroll in Medicare June and July -- $514.00/mo for both of us for Medicare, Medigap and a modest dental plan!

Well, I'm not sure what the point of posting this is, but perhaps it is a little therapeutic to put it into words and face the facts and events.

Best wishes to everyone.