Pandemic ‘22

I’ve got rhythm

November 4, 2022

“Holding. Natalie.”

Waiting in the hospital’s busy eighth-floor prep area for yet another attempt at zapping out the unwelcome atrial fibrillation inhabiting my heart, I swore I heard the young nurse answer the phone with this greeting: “Bowling alley.”

Spare me the boomer age jokes. We both heard it, so it’s true.

“Did she just say bowling alley?” I asked Rebecca, my eyes and ears since they had already confiscated my glasses.

“Yes, I think she did.”

“That’s weird,” I said.

“Yeah. Maybe that’s what they call this place: ‘The Bowling Alley.’”

“Right,” I added. “Where bad patients end up in the gutter!”

Good one. Thanks. Tip your server. We’re here all week.

I certainly hope not. Sarcasm masks my fear when I’m scared shitless.

Tuesday’s procedure was about as tricky as converting a 7-10 split at Thunderbird Lanes after consuming a pitcher of beer and a nacho plate.

For you non-bowlers out there, a 7-10 split is when you have knocked down every single pin except for two in the back row on opposite corners. Your best bet is to throw the ball hard enough to make one pin ricochet into the other so that both get knocked down.

According to the professional bowlers’ website PBA.com, your chances of making this shot for a spare are only around 1 percent.

Speaking of rare conversions, it was time to zap that A-Fib out of my heart. The success rate, however, is better than 90 percent.

It’s called cardioversion, a medical procedure that uses quick, low-energy shocks to restore a regular heart rhythm. Mine’s been out of rhythm since at least July when I noticed how tired and sweaty I was sitting on the patio after pulling a weed. One. Weed.

My resting pulse rate was 120. Way too high.

Listen to your body, ladies and gentlemen. It knows you better than you do.

But before cardioversion, I needed a transesophageal echocardiogram, known to challenged spellers as a “T.E.E.” It’s a type of heart ultrasound. You’re sedated while a flexible tube is inserted into your mouth and down your esophagus to take movies of your heart.

It’s as fun as it sounds and shows a detailed view of your heart’s structure and function, such as whether you have any blood clots, which would kibosh the cardioversion. That’s what happened to me in August.

This time, I requested a few spritzes of throat-numbing spray to alleviate soreness afterward. I’m happy to report it worked like a charm.

As did the cardioversion, which jolted me back into normal sinus rhythm. I remember nothing.

Rebecca said I did great and likely won’t have to do this again. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks.

There’s nothing like knowing your heart’s beating as it was meant to and you’re going to be your old self again – only better.

I’ve got rhythm. I’ve got music.

I’ve got leaves to rake.

Who could ask for anything more?

Retired print journalist, blogger and Madison’s other mother.❤️🐾

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