Third Post: The Waiting Game

As I slog through this weekend, I’ll reflect briefly on what I’m feeling like (so you can compare it to what YOU are feeling like), and give you a glimpse of the super-cool device that is going to be implanted under my skin below my collarbone for the rest of my life. (I make it sound so appealing!)

Grommit

In reality, I’m super grateful for this incoming electrical apparatus. Without it, I would continue to feel as crappy as I do now, and eventually my energies would cease to exist in this human world. In the words of Ben Folds in relation to this world in which our human bodies live, “I really like it here; I’m quite attached to it.” Not sure where else, celestially, one can get coffee that tastes so good.

“Could you please define ‘crappy’?” As I walked our awesome dog, Grommit, this morning, I was thinking about how my 36” inseam legs were aching to stretch and pivot, spin and twist, run and jump. Yet everything from waist up was saying, hey, this .5 mph pace is really starting to drain my energies.

First thing that I feel is that ‘pressure’ we talked about yesterday, the inflating-balloon-heart effect. Then my brain automatically kicks in and thinks about bad things that are unlikely to occur at .5 mph, then my whole body decides that as soon as Grommit poops, we’re bee-lining it back to the house to go sit down.

The mind absolutely plays a role in all this. I should feel comforted that although my heart isn’t acting correctly now, it’ll hang in there fine for a few more days until this man-made object that has actually withstood the test of time to a large degree gets buried in my flesh. But the mind wanders. I’ve been able to meditate when I wake up at night, focusing on my breathing, in order to keep my brain in check and get back to sleep, which is vital.

Writing about it has been cathartic as well. It helps to put things into perspective. I’m so lucky that this is something that

1. Was predicted, and
2. Can be rectified.

Consider my friends who have a child with cancer, or who have a loved one that just passed away tragically, or who have weathered other traumas to themselves or in life. I have a good prognosis, a means of getting there, and an amazing support system of family and physicians. Being grateful for what you have can bring about a positive attitude. And being empathic toward others in way worse situations also helps with perspective.

SO…what is this thing they are putting into my body? My electrophysiologist (EP) gave me this great visual aid yesterday that the Cleveland Clinic puts out. Below is a website that discusses it more.

Thank you Cleveland Clinic for this sweet visual aid!

Lucky me, I get a Biventricular Pacemaker (see diagram)! When I asked how long the surgery takes, my EP said that feeding the first 2 lines to the right atrium and right ventricle will take a mere ½ hour. Easy peasy. He was a little concerned about the lead heading over to the left ventricle. I had open heart surgery in 1971 when I was 5 to repair an ASD (atrial septal defect), and he is not sure what it will look like in there to be able to get that lead through to where it needs to be.  He suggested they could feed it through in five minutes, or it could take a couple hours working out what to do.

For the medical folks reading, I also have a left bundle branch block happening in there, so my left ventricle contracts a little bit later than the right. That third lead will really help correct the issues in that left ventricle, so it would be nice to get that properly situated. The EP was great, saying that he’s not sure what to expect until he gets in there. He then added that he has about a 90% success rate for the third lead. I’m confident the light will be shining on his skills next Tuesday!

Interestingly, they don’t put you out on the table! He said I’ll have some nice relaxing drugs sent through so I don’t feel anything, but I don’t have to be out cold. That’s pretty cool! I asked him if there was a giant mirror over the operating table so I could watch, but he said no. L

https://my.clevelandclinic.org/health/treatments/16784-biventricular-pacemaker

How big is it? My understanding from the Boston Scientific spec sheet is that it’s about the size of a match box, but thinner, and weighs just over an ounce. Now if you need a defibrillator, it’ll be a bit larger.

How long will it last? My batteries are projected to last 7-11 years. Considering that mine will be working feverishly as I re-introduce higher levels of coreg into my system, I expect a battery life in the 6-7 year range. A defibrillator projects a 5-8 year battery life.

What can go wrong? Not much. You can find a bunch of possible problems, but they occur so rarely, so why worry about them? It’s not something you can control. If you all of a sudden feel like crap a couple years down the line, go get it checked and think about it then. Do not let tomorrow take up too much of your today!

Still so much running through my head! Tomorrow I’ll talk about a cool success story, and projections about what activity levels I can expect to be able to achieve soon after surgery.

And who doesn't want a couple more Grommit pictures? (Top one taken by Karen.)