An Odd Sensation

It is an odd sensation. Something like what a tennis ball might feel like while being squeezed by a gorilla. Or how a balloon must certain feel when quickly emptied of water. There is no pain - other than the excruciating emotional trauma of wondering if the next beat may be the last. I speak of the human heart, and specifically those dealing with the symptoms of atrial fibrillation. There are other, lesser, sensations, temporary unconsciousness, syncope, tingling of fingers, hands and arms, numbness, brain fog, extreme muscular fatigue and the inability to manage the regularity of sinus rhythm, the number one controller of homeostasis. 

I have what is called chronic or permanent AF, and coupled with a too-slow heart rate, Bradycardia, they create an evil and powerful one-two punch. Kinda Jekyll and Jekyll - no place to Hyde. 

For the last several nights, the last peaceful domain of security and my go-to safety net, has betrayed me. For the record and as back-story, four years ago, after the financial disaster of losing my home in the diagnostic process (please be insured), and after failing the run-up protocols of aversion and ablation, I was offered the incredible opportunity to have my very own pacemaker installed. Yay!

The strategy is to digitally set the pacer to 70 bpm so that when I would normally go WAY beneath that, my resting HR prior to install was <40, an electronic pulse will shock my heart back into a groove. Sometimes this would take place once a month, but now it seems to happen with a regularity that has me deeply concerned. In the time that I have been ‘paced’ one tactic that I use, gaming the system, is this: When I detect AF, I can force myself to the detonation level by deep relaxation, then upon release of the electronic quasar my poor poor pitiful heart would get back to the place it was before. Groove Zone, a regular heart rate. Failing at that I could almost always count on the elixir of a good nights sleep to do so. 

Not anymore.

Last night was rough. The tennis ball was in sudden death overtime with the water balloon. Trying as best I could to calm the runaway freight train of my consciousness (maybe I should go to the ER) I laid awake in the firm grasp of my mortality. Usually we joke about it as a rock ’n roll lyrical staple, but there is nothing the slightest bit sexy in doing this routine all night long. 

This morning all it took was bending over to put on my socks to trigger another, or the continuation of the prior episode. I was in deeper than a water well when I asked the class to begin the warm-up for our hour Saturday spin session. The monitor proved what I had been dreading, ponging from 97 to 195 with randomness and recklessness. All I could do was monitor my movements and try to keep it as steady as possible, not an easy chore for the semi-evil protocol I had created for the day. 

We made it. I was tired and a little dizzy, but we got it done. I am still in AFib, the pacer, I think, is working overtime trying to cope with the new requirements. I need a nap. Later I will try the wireless link once again to transmit the downloaded data to the agency and then to the staff at UW. Maybe they can make heads or tails of it. 

Another odd sensation.