It has a su-per long name that sounds just quite atrocious!
But it’s not life threat-en-ing and that is really awesome,
I’ll just take some helpful meds, avoid stress (something else that rhymes with “us”? Bogus? Onus? Ah..) that’s a bonus!
Yeah, so I haven’t disappeared or lost interest in the blog or anything. It’s just life that gets in the way, and tests, and keeping my shit together, which lately is like trying to keep 30 kittens in a shallow Amazon box– put one back in and three more escape.
But after numerous ECGs, a stress test, heart ultrasound, 24 hour and 48 hour Holter monitor and a two week Zio patch that left scars on my chest, I have the answer.
It’s only taken 9 months.
To get all medical, it’s something you’re born with. You have that electrical signal that jets to a “gatekeeper” as my cardiologist calls it (I hope it looks nothing like a Ghostbusters Rick Moranis), which then sends it to constrict the heart chambers correctly.
But with this, there’s an extra circuit that sometimes gets the signal, and it just kind of signals, signals, signals until the heart corrects itself. Kind of.
So those are the extra beats, the THUMP THUMP THUMP like my heart’s going to beat out of my chest and the 225bpm that were recorded and I sometimes feel.
And of course, as I get older, the episodes will increase in frequency and duration. Which isn’t a problem unless it doesn’t correct and I have to go to an ER to get it stopped.
So, there are three things I can do.
1. Nothing– awesome. I will let my heart binge Netflix
2. Take some beta blockers. Side effects are low blood pressure and fatigue. I didn’t know blood pressure could go lower than what mine already is, but ok. 90/65 is my normal. So he said to take it at night. You know, so if I faint, I’m already asleep?
3. A heart “procedure” that will completely cure it. They feed a catheter through the groin (that word is right next to “moist” as a word I hate) to the heart, find the circuit and fry it. I asked if they could make mine extra crispy with a side of mashed potatoes, but he didn’t hear me. Or maybe he was just ignoring me.
Since I’m kind of leery about, you know, A HEART PROCEDURE, which might as well be called a YOU WILL BE FUCKED IF ANYTHING GOES WRONG PROCEDURE, I’m going to stick with the beta blockers for now.
Getting old sucks.
Oh, and if you ever have to use the Zio patch, which apparently is the gold standard of diagnosing asshole hearts, and you start to itch and have pain, TAKE IT OFF before it looks like this: