Notes In The Margin

A reasonable score and one that many have fallen short of.
I must consider myself lucky, given the actuarial table odds on my age, sex and questionable history.  But one can hope. Lying in a hospital bed, an oxygen feed up my nose, a shunt in my left arm for possible emergency meds and my chest bristling with electrodes, I get a true sense of my own mortality.  I stand on shaky ground. It affords me an appreciation for small things and a lesson in the virtue of patience. So far the score has been 3 major A-Fib events in 3 consecutive days.  Two of them severe and painful. This last one occurred while a team of nurses were at hand to bring things under control. The last doctor that I saw in emergency said “Enough is enough! We’re going to do something about this!!”. That got me admitted and into a room PDQ.  So I’ve been pumped full of digoxin and a host of other concoctions to get things under control. And I feel the onset of another at this moment.

Damn!!!  That one was bad. Make that 3 more events just this morning. Even when my ticker is ticking normally it is in arrhythmia, beating about twice normal rhythm. When A-Fib kicks in it feels like the old pump is going to tear itself apart. Hurts like HELL.

Bottom line?  I’m not a good candidate for a DORK getaway any time soon. But Diane’s picture at Ragged Falls sure looked attractive.

Three Score Ten and Three

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