Monday night, my heart went into A-fib.... I was convinced that it "would pass" and I did my breathing techniques, sat up in my chair, used a particular mudra to relax myself -- I had "stuff to do" (a conference to attend on Wednesday, to be exact) and I didn't "have time" for this.
However, by 2:30 a.m. we were in the local ER. I wasn't able to get a bed till nearly 6:30 a.m. My heart was beating erratically, and my heart rate was over 150 - in danger of having a stroke. And I still thought, "All I need is a reboot, and I can get to work and prep for the conference..." I was pretty sure that they'd do what they always did, my heart would kick itself back into rhythm, and I'd be home and back to my usual routine.
I've had
Atrial Fibrillation for years, so I know the standard treatments that the doctor recommended, and it looked like things were going to go as I had planned them in my head. (cue your laughter here, as I assume that I can PLAN this whole thing...)
The nurse
administered the medication and we were chatting; they
always stay in the room and monitor to see how things are going (this was about
7:45 a.m. or so).
All of a
sudden, I told her that something felt "off"... Next thing I know,
I'm flat on my back, gasping for air, and the room is filled with people. They whipped the mask off my face to allow me to breathe (Covid protocols, etc...) Doctor barking orders to the nurses. Nurses, quietly competent, buzzing back
and forth. Oxygen administered, something put into the IV in my arm, numbers
being rattled off...I remember grabbing the hand of the nurse next to me - as
an anchor, I think. I was alternately burning up and sweating, and then
freezing. I never lost consciousness and was aware of what was going on around
me.
I hear, "get the paddles ready" but it doesn't really sink in. Someone asked for a verification of my birthdate, which I then rattled off. "She's talking," they said. I said, "Paddles weren't on my list today..." They fixed the quite extreme reaction I had to a medication I've taken before.
Afterward,
I was told that my heart rate dropped quickly - and too low. In a span of about
5 minutes, I went from 150 bpm to 21...Twenty-one...
I don't
know why, but I didn't realize till later that the "paddles" were in
this big red "crash cart."
And
today, home and exhausted (I finally came out of A-fib and they let me go home
late last night - my heart was wonky for 18 hours...) -- it finally just sunk
in just how close I came and just how bad it could've gone.
I know that there are complaints about Western medicine, dependence on Big Pharma, and how screwed up we in the US make it to be taken care of. And 99.9% of those complaints are completely valid. It's not a "political" statement to say that US health care is pretty uneven and often, the Emergency Room is where the uninsured, poor, homeless, and marginalized reach out for medical care because they know they won't be turned away.
We know, here in the US, that if
you have money (and/or really good insurance, but mostly, let's face it -- it's
money that talks), you get really good care, and access to treatments that not
everyone can have. After all, let's chat about Steve Jobs and the liver transplant he got almost immediately, when the list for transplants is long, and donors are scarce. The late Chadwick Boseman was fortunate enough to have a team of holistic practitioners, acupuncture, massage, medical treatment...the list could go on and on. Let's also talk about our elected officials....and the platinum-level care they have access to. Someone could get elected to the House or Senate, serve one term and get booted out (usually because they weren't obeying the commands of the corporate overlords who've purchased their souls...) -- and they have premium healthcare for life. You realize that #MoscowMitch and his ilk have amazing care that you and I are not privy to, right?
But
yesterday, when it could've gone horribly bad, the medical team around me
worked with quiet, swift skill in a pretty dire emergency, and got me through
it. The doctor said that in his years of practice, he's never seen such an
intense and severe reaction to this medication and that it was the
"standard" to treat A-Fib. I've got a bottle of this same medication
in pill form in my cabinet!
Afterwards,
the nurse whose hand I grasped said, "I have NEVER seen that kind of
reaction to this medication -- I'm so glad you hung in there with us." I
told her that I was so glad THEY hung in there with me.
Today,
taking a day to rest, recover and contemplate, I find my mind replaying that
morning and I find myself still in awe, but also there's a feeling I can't
quite articulate about how close I came to an entirely different outcome.
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