Friday the 13th

Wednesday morning a nurse hooked me up to a portable heart monitor, covering my chest and stomach with transmitters and leads, handing me a clunky recording device to hang over my shoulder, my constant companion for the next 48 hours.

"Remember, you can't shower with this."

Great.

It's close to 100 degrees in Virginia with off-the-charts humidity. I'll be needing a shower before I even get to my car in the hospital parking lot. Can hardly wait to experience the combination of heat, sweat, adhesives, and wires.

While the black box records my heart activity, I am supposed to record my symptoms in a paper diary.

"Take it with you everywhere. Even to the bathroom."

Ewww.

I dutifully describe every skipped heartbeat, every flutter, every gurgle and percolation, every episode of atrial fibrillation.  It is only the first day, and I've filled the whole diary. During the second day, I'm less diligent.

I'm increasingly irritable and out of sorts. Every time I have to stop what I'm doing and write down what my heart's doing, I'm reminded that my heart is still broken. It is not functioning properly. The surgery I had changed my heart rhythm but didn't fix it.

The patient diary full of entries has me wondering how long it will be before I hit the skids again and can't breathe, can't climb stairs, can't walk the dog.

I was so tired yesterday that I went to bed at 9 p.m. and then I slept until 9 a.m., only getting up then because I had a 10 a.m. doctor's appointment.

I should not have been that tired, unless, of course, my heart isn't moving enough blood. Sigh.

The night was full of dreams. I was on a college campus, having to take an exam in economics. I was with friends who aren't my friends anymore. We were going to go somewhere together. I set out across campus, only to realize a short while later that they weren't with me. They'd gone a different way and not noticed I was missing. I was on my own. Confused.

Later I had another dream, set in a house that both was and was not my house. It was also a college dream, a collage of fractured moments and meanings.

I woke this morning knowing exactly why I was dreaming of being unsettled, unprepared, left behind.

I get dressed. The mirror shows a bright red electrode attached just below the hollow of my throat, a black wire trailing down between my breasts. My computer displays the date: August 13th.

The room is dark. It's raining hard. I don't bother turning on the lights.

It's Friday the 13th, after all. The day and my mood were made for the gloom.

And for chai latte.

After the doctors appointments, after the wires come off and I'm left with donut-shaped welts all over my chest, I'll hit Starbucks and restart the day.

And I'll write about it. Yeah, this time I'm going to write about it.

Comments

[Lynn]

I've been having lots of strange, disturbing dreams lately too. I wake up exhausted, trying to recapture the thoughts I was dwelling on in my sleep and to find some meaning from them... I hope the doctor has something positive to share with you - and I hope you enjoyed your chair latte as well as a nice long shower!

[J]

This whole thing sucks so badly. What a pain to have to go through that. But you write about it so openly and honestly, it gives me a glimpse of your life right now, at this moment in time.

I hope there's a fix in your near future.

[Ern]

A good glimpse into your life. I know you'll be making the best of your situation. Hang in there!

[Di]

Oh sweetpea, I'm so sorry that this is all happening again. Sorry to have been absent. Guests gone, I'm grounded again ... tentatively putting my feet on the floor while I wait for this summer cold thing to leave me alone.

Much love, and waiting to hear what's happening with you
xx

[Chris]

I'm sorry, V. I wish your heart wasn't broken, but I'll hang on to hope that it will be completely better one day. Completely. I think it's good that you're going to write about it.

[nikki hardin]

It is so frustrating (and that is too weak a word) to go through test after test and not know what needs fixing. I remember it so well. I think it's remarkable you don't pull the blankets over your head and stay in bed. Brava!