Six or seven years ago I went to the Doctor with some vague discomfort in the middle of my bodily self and before I knew what was happening I was pushed into a wheel chair, told to notify anyone who needed to know (I called my cat sitter to take over the kitty routine for me) and was wheeled across the parking lot to the hospital wherein an unknown gentleman invaded my bod with a device through an artery in my groin and reamed out the plumbing to my heart, leaving behind one or two stents to keep things open and to show he had been there. Since then the old pump has been performing rather well and I have been most grateful and very impressed.
Last week, I went to the Doctor with some vague discomfort in the middle of my bodily self and was told I had a cardiac flutter which, while not life threatening at this moment, needed to be tended to either with medication or with ..........the dreaded term.....a Procedure. Before I even heard what the Procedure was, I had decided that I was already taking too damned many pills and capsules and was leaning toward mechanical intervention (that is after I was assured that the Procedure was NOT Open Heart Surgery). And when I heard that meds were only 70% successful whereby the Procedure was 95% successful I was even more convinced.
So it has come to pass that I will go to the hospital this Thursday as an outpatient , whereupon an adorable Armenian Doctor (whom I now do know) will violate my bod with his magic wand (get your minds out of the gutter) entering a vein somewhere and proceeding upward with camera and electrical probe to find the misbehaving nerve in my heart and Zap it to extinction with his stun gun After the appropriate zapping and my return from blurred consciousness I am told I can go home same day and go about my normal life cured of flutter. Piece of cake. Well,. it sounds good anyway.
My blogging may be a bit more erratic than usual, depending how well I tolerate this fascinating invasion, but I promise I will try to blog a line or two when I get home just to let you know that I did not get Zapped altogether. I actually have very little anxiety about this since the more drastic procedure in the past (where I was also sedated but conscious) was no problem at all and it sounds a bit Science Fiction-y so I am looking forward to seeing how it all works. I already saw the magic wand and it looks very ordinary and much like any old computer connector wire except for the business end which is teeny and I am sure is very sophisticated. (in other words.....don't try this at home.)
I do not want you to worry, but if any of you care to think a kind thought or two and send good vibes my way I will certainly receive them with open arms.
Ain't it amazing the things they can do these days? So why can't we figure out World Peace??? What a dumbkopff I am..........I know why.....there's no profit in it. Sigh
Ode To My Cardiac Rhythm Specialist
Tickle my heart, tickle my heart
Give me the pink pill for a start
Then the purple one, next the yellow spotted.
Dose me until I am quite besotted.
Then proceed with the local numbing
Before you invade my cardiac plumbing.
Am I smiling beatifically? Then you may start
to gently climb up to my heart.
Carefully peruse my trusty pump
and find out what is making it jump.
Instead of ka-boom, ka-boom, why is my ticker
sounding more like a Chickaboom, chickaboom chick-er?
When you find the errant, rebellious nerve,
please zap it neatly, do not swerve
with your amazing magic cattle prod .....
Just promise me, for the love of God,
that while messing around among my heart's swirls and loops
I do not hear you mutter the dreaded word.......... "Oops".
The New Yorker covers: March 17, 1934
9 hours ago