When Crazy turns into Amazing
A lot can happen in six months. It can feel like forever, and it can feel like the blink of an eye. It can also feel like both at the same time. I can’t explain that; I just know it’s true.
About six months ago a Big Can of Crazy opened up in my life, one I barely survived. I’m not being dramatic when I say that. I had been a person of relatively few health issues, and out of the blue the electrical system that makes my heart work properly went on the fritz in a really bad way. You can read about it here, or a bit about the post-processing here. It’s a wild story. I’m still amazed.
A month ago I had a visit with the electrocardiologist who took over my care when I was transferred to the hospital in Pensacola. It was the first time I’d seen him since I left the hospital.
“Ok…what was THAT?” I asked him.
He just smiled ruefully and shook his head. “With as far as research and technology have come, we’re no closer to being able to predict who this will happen to than we were when I was in residency fifteen years ago.”
So strange. Apparently if it’s gonna happen, you want to be in an airport (defibrillators installed all over the place), a casino (cameras installed all over the place), or a hospital (medical personnel installed all over the place). I was, of course, in the latter.
The specialist did an EEG at the office and he also did a read on my ICD. Both showed totally normal function, and the ICD showed no history of wackiness since it was implanted. The doctor took me off the one medication I was on to help keep the heart calm. It was never a long-term solution anyway, and we were all glad to get me off of it.
In the big picture, I had a normal heart before this happened. Then it happened, and nothing was normal and my heart kept going into lethal rhythms (which is pretty much the same as stopping, because there’s no real pulse and it can’t actually pump blood during those rhythms, and death is imminent without intervention). And now…I have a normal heart again, albeit with a few burnt spots from the ablation and a computerized watchdog sitting a few inches away in my chest.
Big picture: The visit delivered even better news than I knew to hope for. Everything is really good. I’ll have occasional follow-ups with a cardiologist and the electrocardiologist, but that’s because something happened and not because something is happening. I don’t have to take any medications for this. The Long QT Syndrome that showed up after this happened is no longer present. I will always have an ICD in my chest as a safety net, but the battery on the one I have is currently projected to last 12 more years. There are certain medications I don’t care to ever take again because they may have played a role in setting this off (I’m looking at you, Zofran), but otherwise there are no hard and fast rules about what I can take, although I’m pretty conservative about that stuff anyway.
And hey…I still have my gallbladder! It’s not bothered me a bit since then. Just one more thing I can’t explain, but for which I am grateful.
God has been so incredibly good and faithful to me. So many people have prayed, checked in on me, driven me places, encouraged me, reminded me of the good future before me. It is humbling to be so cared for.
This whole event, the entire six months of it, has raised many questions and also many answers. I don’t know most of the whys. I probably never will. But I know a lot more about Who, and about His heart, and the hearts of His kids.
And really, what more could I ask for?