Life Is What Happens...

Sunday was a busy day. We went to Harry's Farmer's Market first, then tiptoed our way through the mud and mist to attend the small craft show at Jim Miller Park. It was sparsely attended due to the weather, so we were home by two. We read the paper, then James started working on his computer and I was getting sleepy, so I decided to do a couple of things that "wanted doing" in the kitchen, including mounting the potholders in a different place so they wouldn't be in the way when we cooked (this involved making pilot holes and climbing up and down on chairs to mount the new hooks). Then I decided the kitchen needed a good scrubbing before I cooked and went to work with sponge and Lysol disinfecting wipes.

I include all these homely details to assure you I wasn't being a slug all day.

After supper, I had Bandit on my hand and was talking to him as we climbed up the five steps into the kitchen from the den.

In the middle of the kitchen I suddenly felt as if there had been a great rush of blood to (or perhaps from) my head. I felt hideously giddy and my heart was suddenly racing, so hard that it only took a moment before I was out of breath. Holding Bandit was a danger, I suddenly knew. If I passed out--and I certainly felt like I might--he might be hurt. So I immediately took him back downstairs. On the way past the bathroom, I turned on the light and could see myself in the mirror. I could clearly see my pulse pounding at the foot of my neck.

I let James know there was something wrong, sat down and tried to relax. I've had palpitations before, but only when I've had caffiene. This was more like the "spells" my mom has in which an activity can cause her heart to flutter because she has a sticky valve. (Don't know the medical name for it.)

After a half hour, it was evident this wasn't going away by itself. James got me some clothes and we drove down to Wellstar, which is the closest emergency room. Once they found out my heart rate was 190, they whisked me in the back and attached me to a monitor machine, gave me an IV saline drip, eventually smacked a nitroglycerin patch on my arm (to slow my heart rate), and generally fussed about. While I was frightened I was by no means out of it and it occurred to me with only slight amusement that I felt like I was in an episode of Emergency.

We had gotten there at 8:30 and by midnight they'd gotten my heart down to about 115-120. We sat and watched the TV that was in the room (saw most of Pleasantville) and talked to each of the doctors, nurses, and technicians who wandered in. I couldn't have been in that bad a shape because they did unhitch me several times to wander to the bathroom on my own.

They also contacted Kaiser Permanente, who said I needed to be moved to "their" hospital, Northside.

So about 2 a.m. or thereabouts I wended my way across town in an ambulance. The attendants were very nice and the male member of the team took vitals and kept me calm while we made the trip. James followed, with a short side trip to take poor Willow out for a last walk and bring Bandit upstairs to bed.

So we were ensconced at Northside at about 3 a.m. Between the bouts of being monitored and questioned, we tried to sleep, but James had only two hard chairs and I gave him my pillow, trying to rest on a folded up sheet instead. Heck, I had the bed and it wasn't very comfortable anyhow. Our 12-year-old Sealy Posturepedic is more firm than this mattress was. My back was aching in minutes and I never could lie flat more than a half hour at the time, a bit of a pain since I had an IV shunt in either one arm or the other the entire time and couldn't lie on that side.

Of course the first fear was that I had had some type of heart attack. Over the course of Monday and Tuesday I had several tests, including many blood tests, a stress test, an echocardiogram, and a sonogram on my legs (checking for blood clots). I was supposed to have a CT scan with a dye, but I'm embarrassed to admit my claustrophobia emerged full blown and I ended up hysterically crying and curled up into a fetal position during the "test run" the tech did before inserting the dye. They tried another type of test, but I found I could not even clamp my nose shut and breathe in through a mask without having some type of panic attack.

Since all the other tests turned out normal, including a specific cardiac blood test, save for one cardiac enzyme that was "off," the cardiologist and the doctor decided I did not need the CT scan. The enzyme might just as well be "off" because my heart had been beating at such a rapid rate for some hours. I was still pretty funked about it. I managed through a CT scan some years back, albeit without the dye, and thought I could do it again.

The doctors and nurses at both places were quite nice, although it was a bit much to be woken at 5:45 a.m. just to check my weight (blood pressure I could understand--but my weight?; did they think it had run off somewhere in the night?). (I also want to know why modern blood pressure cuffs are so darn tight! My upper arms are sore!) At Northside, Monday's day nurse found James a chair that unfolded into a bed, which he gratefully used Monday night, as he had to be at work Tuesday to get the monthly ad out. She also calmed me down both times after both panic attacks. Tuesday's day nurse explained all the medications to me and even found me a regular dinner (no one ever changed my dinner order after I had all the tests, so I was on a clear liquid diet both days; consomme has never tasted so good!) right before I was released that evening. We also talked about books while I was waiting for James to come pick me up. (They have "how are we doing?" cards you can fill out when you leave and I put good words in for both of them.)

In the meantime between tests I watched TV (thank God, they have cable now; I could watch HGTV, which is like comfort food to me, and episodes of M*A*S*H on fX) and read the St. Nicholas bound volume James had brought with him when he stopped at home.

The doctor's verdict was that either it has something to do with incipient menopause (I have been having hot flashes lately) or it may be severe acid reflux disease (a good possibility since lately Tums is my friend). She also indicated there might be stress factors that she didn't know about that could have contributed to it. The cardiologist gave me a beta blocker just in case--I also had two doses of blood thinner at the hospital--and I also have something for acid reflux. I'll see my doctor on Monday and probably have more tests. The doctor thought the beta blocker dose the cardiologist prescribed was too high for me and told me to keep an eye on my pulse. It does make me a bit woozy.

I was also told my blood pressure is too low and, while the dietician didn't want me attacking any salt licks :-), she didn't want me to take any low-salt precautions, either. I'm free to eat salty things and not have to worry about it. I've always said salt, not sugar, wakes me up; turns out I was right!

I also need--and this I've known--to lose weight. I'll ask on Monday when I can start using the exercise bike again, and James and I have been talking about taking Willow over to the National Park nearby for walks as we are both horrendously out of shape. I'll continue using the stairs at work (and not just because the elevator scares the bejeebers out of me) as well.

Sigh. End-of-fiscal-year has always strung me out, but this wasn't exactly how I wanted to escape it. A nice job editing manuscripts and/or typing them, or doing web page work was more what I was thinking of.

Anyway, we got home and Willow danced around my legs and Bandit gave me a blank look until he realized it was "really, really" me. We did have a cute happening that night: it began to thunder, something Wil is really sensitive to lately. When we went up to bed it was still rumbling and poor Willow sat at the foot of the stairs howling like a small wolf. Several times she sounded like she was trying to talk!

It thundered all through the night and when the alarm rang this morning, I was conscious that she was in the room. James said she'd been upstairs all night. He'd gotten up to use the bathroom, heard a jingle from the spare room, and found Willow curled up tightly on the futon next to the bird cage! I guess she figured if she couldn't be with "Daddy" she could at least keep company with "Brother." He said he didn't have the heart to send her away. :-)

So I get up every so often and walk about, am trying to "eat lightly" and with salt, have talked to my mom and taken Bandit to see the pretty bird in the mirror. It's what I'd started to do Sunday night, after all...

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 5:39:00 PM

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