"Be still my heart" had a whole new meaning for me last year. For some unknown reason, mine started beating really F A S T. Three hundred times a minute kind of fast! I felt like a human vibrator. The cardiologist called it an arrhythmia somethingorother.
I'd had early warning signs of a shaky heart and was armed with a small monitor to press against my chest during a "big vibration". It's a weird sort of take-your-breathe-away feeling and you wonder why your chest is suddenly possessed and pounding like a jack-hammer-- and for so long! In my case, I'd vibrate for 45 minutes at a time!
The silver lining, if you could call it that, was getting to know my local, and might I add, very cute, paramedics. Four handsome guys would run into my house just to see me! I felt special.
The first time those happy hunks arrived it was a little embarrassing. They'd brought in all their equipment and I just assumed they'd want to hook me up to the EKG like they do at the doctor's office, so I took my shirt off. "Not necessary Ma'am", the Captain said sweetly as he attached the electrodes to my ankle. Oy. I turned red and refrained from asking for mouth-to-mouth recessation.
As I continued to vibrate across my kitchen floor at an increasingly rapid rate, I noticed one handsome paramedic, who could easily be a shirtless Mr. July in the Los Angeles Fire Department Calendar, pulling out the defibrillator paddles. You know, the things you see on TV when the doctor yells "Charge!" then "Clear!".
Fellow fifty-somethings, if you ever, EVER, see someone coming at you with paddles like that, get your sick butt out of there. Pronto! You will not like it-- Trust me on this.
It wasn't long after that I checked into the hospital to have probes inserted into my heart exploring the source of my internal earthquake. And I was awake for it! Let me tell you, THAT was an experience, to say the last. Once the damaged portion was identified, my teenage look-a-like doctor actually froze the defective piece of my heart thereby avoiding the need for a pacemaker. Phew!
Ever since, my ticker has been just fine, thank you very much. But the "cold hearted bitch" jokes are starting to get on my nerves. And the constant "when will it defrost" question is making me nervous.
Seriously, when will it defrost?
Kidding.... It defrosts in 7 years. I'll deal with it later.
Have you met your local paramedics? I hope not.
Welcome to TheFiftyFactor - Joanna