April 19, 2010, we went back to Piedmont hospital to have an ICD (implantable cardioverter defibrillator) placed in my chest. It’s about the size of a small cell phone just under the skin over my heart. It has a wire, called a “lead” actually inside my heart.
“An implantable cardioverter defibrillator is a lifesaving electronic device that is placed in a pocket created by your doctor beneath the skin on the chest wall.” says the booklet that came with it. “After implanting the defibrillator, your electrophysiologist will test the device. The physician will create a heart rhythm that causes the ICD to deliver a shock to make sure it works properly”. “You will be given extra sedation before this happens, so you should not feel or remember the shock.” I appreciate that.
If you’ve seen me since, I have probably shown you my scar of which I am quite proud.
So I spent the night at Piedmont hospital and got to order dinner and breakfast from the same hospital dietician guy I had grown to know so well three months before. I still couldn’t get him to pass the salt or give me an extra drink.
July 19,2010, we went back again, this time to “test” the device further. The idea was to stop my heart to see if the device would shock me “back”. This I misunderstood, because I was planning on taking solid notes on this trip to heaven. As it turns out, they put my heart into ventricular fib but stopped short of actually letting me go into coronary arrest. The device apparently worked because I’m writing about it today.
Wearing the hospital gown again, being pushed around on a gurney, bantering with nurses, entering the same heart "cath lab" with an active IV in my arm brought back memories. But they were good memories. I somehow had absolutely no fear. I felt sorry for the other patients I saw and heard who were afraid. In fact, when I woke up from the anesthesia I was quite surprised I didn’t have any new out of body experiences to tell.
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