Keeping Pace

WalterSafariSmugglersWharfThink About It. Keeping Pace. There’s no end of fun available when you get an unexpected trip to the hospital having been diagnosed by a monitor signaling a lab in Texas that you have an arrhythmia. My first laugh was when a nurse explained to a hesitant incoming patient that it was alright if he had smoked marijuana.  After all, she said, “My aunt quit at age 70 to provide urine for her grandchildren applying for jobs.”  When you think about it, that’s not funny.  My worst admitted offence was an occasional Panatela and a Meerschaum pipe with cherry scented tobacco many years ago.  I am now labeled “smoker” but admitted anyway.

Saturday at noon drips of my favorite sedative began to dull my senses. The next I thing I knew, a little container the size of a Zippo lighter had been inserted just below my left shoulder where a three inch slit had been cut and then closed with industrial-grade staples by Dr. Alva, to protect the guilty I presume. In the meantime, wires had been inserted from the device to one each, atrium (not the twelve story kind like your favorite hotel) and ventricle, to provide steadying electrical impulses. Shocking isn’t it?

Years ago scientists conjectured that the body actually had electrical impulses. You know, the kind that had recently provided light and power to the world. Well, they had made a good guess.  The heart has its own internal electrical system that controls its rate and rhythm. Normally, with each beat, an electrical signal spreads top to the bottom. As the signal travels, it causes the heart to contract and pump blood.  A battery-operated Pacemaker was just what the doctor ordered. I chose not to follow the internet advice when I Googled and found  PACEMAKER-FIND OUR LOWEST PRICE.  I felt a little like the first astronaut who while descending remembered that the contract for his only hope in life had been granted to the lowest bidder.

After testing the device by speeding and slowing my heart rate as if to simulate my previous discomfort (an unpleasant reminder), I was ruled ready to go home at half time of the Colts game to see if the cheerleaders could further stimulate my blood flow. If my notes scribbled soon after the “procedure” didn’t seem as clear as when first written, you can thank the Versed. If you want some, be sure to get your colonoscopy. You should anyway.

I did get the last laugh. As I was leaving I overheard a nurse (or Tech) explain the purpose of the round plastic device to be placed under the toilet seat on occasion. Then she added, “If you have to poop again, we’ll give you another hat to poop in.” I see my notes do warn of using scatological language. I didn’t mention that while playing bridge last evening at the church.

In any event, my heart and I are now Keeping Pace. Think About It.

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