Health

Out of Rhythm

By on • ( 103 Comments )

As I write the first part of this post, it’s December 5th, 2020, and I ain’t in rhythm. Right now the electrical currents in my heart are zinging about helter-skelter, dancing to the beat of a drunk drummer.

This is a heart arrhythmia event, and it can go on for hours, even days. I get them just about every day, nowadays. I think they began when I was a teenager, or at least that’s my story. I can’t prove it, but I’ll use any excuse to vindicate my life-long laziness.

But I may be running out of excuses. Some damned doctor has decided I need heart surgery. And if this surgery is successful, I’ll have to get off my shiftless ass and start doing more chores around the house. Fuck.

My last cardiologist was more than willing to do nothing. But he and I got into it and I got feisty and found a new heart doctor. It’s my pride, you see. I don’t like to lose.

My new sawbones is an electrophysiologist (EP), and EPs specialize in heart arrhythmias. The surgery he’s planning is called a cryoablation. This crazy son-of-a-bitch plans to run a thin catheter from my groin, through my blood vessels, up to my heart, and freeze the hell out of the supercharged areas that he believes are short-circuiting my ticker. Talk about a cold-hearted thing to do.

I only hope he won’t make a mistake and freeze my balls off in the process.

And hopefully this will put an end to my nuisance heart condition, that has been diagnosed as Atrial Fibrillation (Afib). Except that I won’t have an excuse to be lazy anymore.

Arrhythmia events feel so unusual, that they are hard for me to describe, and hard to remember how to describe. So if the cryoablation is successful, I fear I may forget altogether what an arrhythmia event feels like, or how to identify it, should this mutherfucker pop up its evil head again.

And so this post is about describing, to the best of my ability, what Afib feels like. I’ll use it for reference, in case my frozen arrhythmia ever thaws out and revives, like The Beast From 20,000 Fathoms.

Presently, I feel weak and shaky. And I feel congested, as if I have a bag of dry sand in my chest. It’s the kind of stifling sensation you can get in your lungs when driving down a dirt road, inhaling the dust.

But because I feel shaky, let’s make it a bumpy dirt road.

Another analogy is feeling as if I’ve just run a marathon. I’ve never run a marathon in my life, but my heart has, so I think I know what it feels like. My chest feels raw during an arrhythmia event, and my limbs feel weak, as if I might collapse.

Most of my episodes begin gradually. Afib sneaks up like a slow-acting toxin. In fact sometimes when an event is coming on, I’ve worried that my wife has poisoned my dinner. But I don’t dare accuse her anymore. I’m tired of those dirty looks she gives me, and her threats to never cook a meal again.

When I tell people how I feel at these times, they sometimes act like amateur physicians and diagnose me with hypoglycemia. They advise that I should eat something. But when eating doesn’t help, I realize that these folks are practicing medicine without a license. That’s why they’re wrong. About as wrong as most licensed doctors, who are also piss-poor at diagnosing Afib.

Afib events are uncomfortable and damned tiring. But they are rarely fatal. Which is too bad. There are many times in my life when I’ve wished I was dead, rather than continue to feel this way.

But no, this damned heart condition is only fatal when it leads to a massive stroke, or heart attack from tachycardia. I think my grandfather had Afib. He had a massive stroke when he was 77, that left him partially paralyzed, and with the mentality of a blubbering fool. That’s how merciless Afib can be. But when he was 82 it finally it had mercy on him and took him out of this world, with another massive stroke.

Despite popular belief, it’s common to have an Afib event without a racing pulse. In fact, that’s how my events almost always occur. With no tachycardia. But if you get the racing pulse, you’d better check into an emergency room quick, before your heart gives up from working too hard, and takes an eternal nap.

Some people have Afib events and never even notice them. They’re the asymptomatic ones. Lucky bastards. But also unlucky, because if they don’t know they have this heart condition, they won’t take the anticoagulant medication that prevents massive strokes. They’re walking time bombs, and might be in for a big, unpleasant surprise, someday down the road. The same kind of surprise my grandpa had.

However, the anticoagulants can give you a big surprise also, and right in your wallet. I take Eliquis. There is no generic version available, so I’m stuck with the expensive brand name. A 90-day supply of Eliquis costs about $1,500, without insurance. Thankfully, my current insurance cuts this expense down to about $500.

When I have an event I just want to lay down and sink to the center of the Earth. I want the universe to fold up around me and take me away to an unconscious place where I can rest in total comfort. A place with no weakness and no shakiness.

But when I lay down, the symptoms don’t go away with bedrest. They are only somewhat ameliorated. It beats being on one’s feet, trying to get chores accomplished, but it sure ain’t like a vacation at Sandals.

When I do the opposite of rest, and force myself to be active during an event, I run the risk of getting a splitting headache. I don’t know how the heart connects itself to the forehead, but a strong relationship seems to exist. It sometimes smacks me in the head, and keeps smacking me in the head, as if to tell me I’m a dummkopf for not resting.

When I walk during an event, I stagger like a drunk. That’s because I relax all my limbs, like a ragdoll. It saves energy. But it also makes me appear intoxicated. And my speech slurs and I mumble a lot, as articulate speech requires too much effort.

When I was in the military, my CO’s ordered me to be drug-tested several times, after I was observed in ragdoll form, probably having an arrhythmia event. And so I offered up jars of pure piss, of the finest amber, to military labs, which exonerated me every time. And which no doubt left my CO’s in a pissy mood, for being so wrong.

And speaking of piss, Afib makes me a piss-poor conversationalist. Animation and repartee go right out the window when I’m in an event, and I possess all the charm of a cinder block. You might as well be in the company of a zombie.

I won’t miss having Afib, even though I want to remember what it feels like. It seems impossible that my decades of heart arrhythmia hell may soon come to an end. If indeed, my problem really is arrhythmia, and not laziness. I could just be a lazy bastard, you know.

And maybe the cryoablation surgery won’t cure me. Ablations are successful 70 to 80% of the time, which means 20 to 30% of patients are left shit-out-of-luck. They often have to undergo additional ablations, for any chance of success.

It takes three months to know if the surgery is successful. But I hope one day in the not-too-distant future, my ragdoll days will be over. I hope these events will become a thing of the past, and that my heart will start behaving itself, so I can get back into the rhythm of things.

Today it’s January 11th, 2021, as I’m posting this. Tomorrow I’m going in for the surgery, so this blog will be idle for a little while. I’m taking at least a few days off from blogging, up to a week, depending on how I feel.

Perhaps forever, if I croak in the middle of the operation. That can happen, but it’s rare. Sometimes doctors have butterfingers, and sometimes they get in a hurry and make mistakes. But who can blame them for not wanting to miss Happy Hour?

I have a post scheduled for a week after my surgery, with a simple message that reads, “I’m dead.” But if I survive I’ll unschedule it. Goddamn, I hope I remember.

But either way, it’s been nice knowing all the people who follow my blog. I hope to see everyone again on the other side. And I mean within the next week, on the other side of the surgery.

Until then, so long for now.

Categories: Health

103 replies »

  1. I just wanna pray, so I will.

    Lord, bless this man’s heart in every way it needs to be blessed. Bless his doctor with enhanced dexterity and an astute assessment of the needs of this afib heart. Bless his wife with good people to lean on as she waits for the news that he’s safe and healing. Be near him, Lord, I pray. Amen!

    Liked by 2 people

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  2. Hmm…you started this post on December 5th? Something about that date stands out to me, but can’t quite remember, being that I have been told that I am old now!

    “Smacking your head”, and calling yourself a dummkopf, eh? No comment! 😉
    BUT in all seriousness I will say it again that you will be in my prayers tomorrow for the operation to go smoothly!! I can’t imagine putting up with this condition as long as you have, you deserve to be healed. To be able to go out there and keep chasing unicorns, not worrying about your heart slowing you down! Take Care and we will all be anxious for your return!

    Liked by 3 people

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    • I think it was karma. I got hit with an arrhythmia on your birthday as punishment for that countdown calendar. I’ve learned my lesson. Maybe.

      You were my inspiration for the “smacking your head” line. You are very inspiring, you know.

      Thank you for the thoughts and prayers. Life hasn’t been easy for me, but I don’t know of anyone who’s lived their life on Easy Street. We all have our challenges to meet, and our dragons to slay. As well as our unicorns to chase.

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  3. Good luck on your surgery, Tippy. I understand how frightening it can be. Hubby has suffered for years from SVTs (tachycardia) and has been advised numerous times to have the ablation surgery, but he’s always refused. So, every so often we find ourselves rushing him to the ER during an SVT event so they can bring the heart rate down with medication. Either way, surgery or ERs, it’s not fun. I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow.

    Liked by 1 person

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    • Thanks, CM. I’m sorry your husband has this problem, also. I know what that’s like to be rushed to the hospital with this. It’s no picnic. I hope I’ll never have to go through that again, so if that’s all the surgery accomplishes, it will be worth it.

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  4. After my TIAs, I was checked out for Afib (the silent kind) among other things that could have contributed – found negative and now on appropriate meds for BP and lubing up my blood. I count myself among the lucky ones.

    Wishing your surgery to be a complete success, TG! And for a speedy return to good health.

    Hugs,

    Deb

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    • TIA’s sound scary. Good thing they’re only temporary, and that you’re getting treatment to prevent a full-blown stroke. I’m also glad you don’t have Afib.

      Thanks for your well wishes. I hope to be back in a week.

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  5. First, let me say that as a fellow a-fibber, I wish you the best with your surgery. I have fainted a couple of times as a result of having gone into a-fib, so I know what some of the side effects can be.

    Second, I have to say this is one of the funniest posts I have read in a long time. I love your sense of humor about the whole situation. Some classic passages:

    This crazy son-of-a-bitch plans to run a thin catheter from my groin, through my blood vessels, up to my heart, and freeze the hell out of the supercharged areas that he believes are short-circuiting my ticker. Talk about a cold-hearted thing to do. I only hope he won’t make a mistake and freeze my balls off in the process.

    -In fact sometimes when an event is coming on, I’ve worried that my wife has poisoned my dinner. But I don’t dare accuse her anymore. I’m tired of those dirty looks she gives me, and her threats to never cook a meal again.

    -It beats being on one’s feet, trying to get chores accomplished, but it sure ain’t like a vacation at Sandals.

    -It sometimes smacks me in the head, and keeps smacking me in the head, as if to tell me I’m a dummkopf for not resting.

    -I have a post scheduled for a week after my surgery, with a simple message that reads, “I’m dead.” But if I survive I’ll unschedule it. Goddamn, I hope I remember.

    In a perfect comedy world, you would have a successful surgery, but you would forget to unschedule next week’s post.

    I look forward to reading about your recovery…

    Liked by 2 people

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  6. No beast… just a flopping catfish trying to squirm out of my chest. Mine are more associated with a low heart rate. I think I mentioned to you once that my brother-in-law had something like what you’re describing for episodes of tachycardia. He had a very good result and said that he didn’t realize until afterward how poorly he’d been feeling. Wishing you the same.

    “Ragdoll”… Reminded me of something from my misspent pre-med days, that when men faint, it’s usually while peeing… “micturition syncope”. I guess emptying out all that accumulated beer while standing tends drop blood-pressure too rapidly. Another reason to sit.

    I’ll keep a cold beer to celebrate your return. (ツ)b

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    • Sorry to hear that, about your heart. The heart is a crazy thing. Since revealing my heart arrhythmia on this blog, I’ve heard from a number of people about how weirdly their hearts act up. Must be rather common.

      Great news that your b-i-l feels better. Those who’ve had successful ablation procedures seem to echo a similar sentiment. They’re surprised about how much better they feel. I’m hoping for the same surprise. And thank you for your well wishes.

      I’ve never felt like I was going to faint while peeing. That’s strange. But some people faint while standing up from a seated position. So sitting down to pee can have its hazards, too.

      Beer is poison, but celebration is always good for the soul. Enjoy your cold one.

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  7. What happens if your memory is affected and you forget about your scheduled Post? I guess we all get misinformed and you will be receiving your own “Sympathy” Comments … which would be unusual things to read! 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

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  9. I hope they don’t freeze your balls and you’d better not be dead. And you sure as hell better remember about that post or your heart won’t be you’re only concern.

    All the very best! See you soon.

    Liked by 2 people

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  12. We’re allow to use everything on our arsenal to get a bit lazy. Oh gosh despite everything you still try to make us smile.

    You’re my second favorite blogger who I know get told to get a heart operation. 🙁
    Sending you all the positive thoughts and well wishes 😊

    Liked by 1 person

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