One Heartbeat Away

On Friday night I ended up in the emergency room. Again.

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The arrhythmia I've lived with for 12-odd years has taken a turn for the worse.

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I had a bad episode on Thursday afternoon, but it cleared up after 15 minutes and all seemed well for the rest of the night. However, the irregular heartbeat returned on Friday morning, worse than ever.
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By the end of the school day I knew something was really wrong.

I drove to the doctor's office after school and waited an hour to be seen. They put me in the red-white-and-blue room, one of my favorites. I got these pictures while I waited.

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All of Dr. Paxman's exam rooms have themes. My kids' favorite is the galaxy room. One full wall is covered by a life-sized photo of the moon's surface, and the rest of the walls and ceiling are dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars and planets. A 3-D alien peeks out at you from inside a frame on one wall.

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When my kids are there, the doctor turns off the light as he enters the room, revealing the glittering galaxy above our heads as he cries ominously, "Woo-ha-ha!" He's a riot.

4 EKGs later, I learned my formerly non-lethal PVCs (premature ventricular contractions) are now originating in the bottom half of my heart.

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It means that at any time my heart could just stop. I could black out and never wake up. Sudden cardiac death. Just one heartbeat away from meeting my maker.

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Unsurprisingly, I was sent straight to the emergency room, where I spent the next 5 hours.

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Back on the heart monitor and blood pressure cuff, plugged back into the IV and another EKG. This time a chest x-ray, as well.
By this time I was experiencing what they call bigeminy. As I told the nurses, "This is no fun, by jiminy!" (Pun intended.)

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A bigeminy means every other beat is a PVC. It feels like a little person is in your chest, continually kicking the inside of your breastbone. Not painful, but certainly uncomfortable.

They say my heart is still healthy, other than this electrical misfire. That's good. It means I'm less likely to die from it.
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It seems my potassium levels were at deadly levels. Normal is 3.5 to 5.0. Anything at or below 2.5 can kill. Mine was 2.8. I have a new potassium prescription.
Wyndie took this picture of me about 30 minutes before I was finally discharged. She was there for me throughout this entire experience, helping with my kids' schedules, making calls for me, waiting with me, and even bringing me the yummy salad you see here.

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Many other friends have added their prayers, well wishes, help, and hugs. These things bring the important things, like friendship, into clearer focus.

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Wyndie's husband and a member of our bishopric also dropped everything to come visit and give me a priesthood blessing.

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I am so grateful to everyone!

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I also have to mention my ER physician, the wonderful Doug Wright, and the amazing male nurses who entertained me for my entire stay. What more could a single girl ask?

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The crisis isn't over yet. We're having trouble adjusting my potassium levels and the arrhythmia continues off and on. I feel perfectly normal about half the time. The other half is a little bit rough. During the worst episodes, my heart isn't getting enough oxygen, which really wears me out.
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I'm supposed to slow down, avoid stress, get more rest. Hello? Single, working mother here!
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I have an appointment with a cardiologist next week, on September first. My birthday. Should be interesting.

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Thanks to everyone who has offered help and expressed love and concern. I appreciate the prayers offered in my behalf and hope they will continue as the cardiologist attempts to resolve the issues causing this problem.
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One heartbeat away... But then, aren't we all? Knowing of our human frailty is the reason we cherish the things that matter most in this life: our faith, our families, and our friends. God bless you all.