Life went on as it always does, after I came home from the hospital. I took my time and moved a lot slower during this trying time, I’d learned by now that getting stressed, hurried, or even getting excited brought on what I called episodes. I tried each time my heart raced to count the rate but how accurate I was, who knows. I think they were usually over 300 beats per minute. About this time because of my forced inactivity, to my distress, I gained weight. I went up at least two sizes. It took me several years to lose the unwanted pounds and I never went down to my youthful weight but at least found a satisfactory and more healthful weight.
Not too long after my hospital stay—in the Psych Ward of all places—I scheduled a visit with my doctor. Not a psychiatrist (I know what you’re thinking) nor even a cardiologist. Just my regular general MD. He had me lie back on the examining table and when listening to my heart, wonder of wonders, my heart started racing. This was a first. He took my pulse and said, “You really do have a problem.” That was the first time he believed me. Yes, I should have sought out another doctor when this whole thing started. Not sure why I didn’t but he came highly recommended and he was on our insurance plan. I never did like him very much, though.
Finally, I got a diagnosis. He said that I had “idiopathic electro tachycardia” which when translated into plain layman’s language means that the part of my heart that controlled the electric impulse that regulates the heartbeat chose to go crazy periodically resulting in a rapid heart beat. The idiopathic part means, as he explained it to me, that they didn’t have a clue about why it happened. But it could be fatal. “No kidding.” This was back in the early Seventies and not as much was known about this condition. Today it’s called Atrial Fibrillation as well as other similar terms.
My life could finally really return to normal. The doctor prescribed a medication, Inderal, and this kept the problem in check. I found I still needed to keep my caffeine intake down to almost non-existent levels plus there were several over-the-counter pain meds I couldn’t take. None of this bothered me. The relief to have my regular life back made up for any inconvenience. The weight gain did bother me and since that time I’ve had an ongoing struggle with my weight. Anyone who’s ever needed to lose weight knows what a struggle it is. If you could just give up eating completely…sigh. Guess not.
I attribute my still being here, alive and kicking, to my heavenly Father’s intervention. I’ve reached the conclusion that when we’ve finished what he sent us here to do, even if we’re not always sure what that is, then He will take us home—and not a moment before. Our lives truly are in God’s hands. I’m glad about that, aren’t you?
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