Be still my beating heart

Today I feel vaguely human. This may not sound like the vast improvement that it is. Yesterday was an out-of-body experience. And Tuesday and Wednesday were so completely full of fear that I could barely think or feel or breathe. Today, I managed to make at least one joke and then giggle about it. I've struggled over whether or not to blog about this, but considering it's a pretty major thing, I've decided to write it out.

On Monday night I got home late after spending an hour and a half talking with the professor at Melbourne Uni with whom I hope to work. After wolfing down half a roast chicken from the shop around the corner, Z and I sat relaxing on the couch. He had had a particularly shitty day and I was trying to cheer him up. Suddenly, my heart did a strange little hiccup thing, the thing it's done every couple of months for many years - but this was the first time it happened while I was sitting up, not lying on my back. It's a lurching gurgle that feels like a pooling in my chest, but it's usually over so fast that I barely have time to register panic before I'm fine. This time was different: it kept going. I put my hand on my neck to feel my pulse in an effort to figure out what was going on. I could feel it steadily beating until it wasn't beating - then it would pick up again - and then stop - and then start - and stop. It kept on going like this and my breath started to catch, so I took a few deep breaths mainly to see if I could. Z and I were continuing to chat, though he stopped and asked me if I was taking my pulse. I said yes - and then, "My heart's doing this... thing." It kept on doing that thing for a couple of minutes but then settled back to it's normal rhythm. And then I felt completely fine. Z, however, was aghast, mainly because I had never mentioned this to anyone particularly someone with a medical degree. I really have never thought much of it; figured that lots of people have funny things like that happen to their hearts. It had been getting more frequent, though, and had firmly made it onto my mental mention-when-I-next-see-a-doctor list.

Z asked what we should do. I had no idea. I was sitting there on the couch in my pyjamas feeling perfectly fine. I was joking about the incident, down-playing it. It was late, after 9:30, on a night before a state holiday. I didn't know who to call, so I tried my mum (out of town, mobile off), my step-mom (mobile not working) and my dad (I sent him a text). Then I noticed a deep and subtle ache in my chest. It was at that moment that I truly understood the gravity of what had happened - truly got that my heart had just acted very strangely. My heart: that vital organ that pumps that vital fluid to the rest of my vital body. This, I decided, was not something to be messed with. Knee pangs can and should be ignored; heart hiccups are not in the same category.

So I got dressed and threw some things (large sudoku, book) into a bag and told Z that I thought we better go to a hospital. He suggested I call first. I pulled open the phone book (look what dial-up will reduce a person to!) and tried the Royal Women's Hospital but the number was no longer in service. So, I tried another number and after an age it was answered by a woman at the Royal Melbourne Hospital. She gave the number of an advice nurse. After ten minutes a very calming and friendly nurse came on the line. He asked me a bunch of questions in a soothing tone and then put me on hold. He came back on the line less than a minute later and uttered the very ominous words, "Now, I don't want you to panic". He proceeded to tell me that he was calling an ambulance. I panicked. Completely. My hands started shaking, my jaw locked, I grinned (like lots of other animals, I smile when I'm scared), I stopped thinking. I do remember asking if that was completely necessary - couldn't I just drive myself in? "Noooo," he replied. "We don't want to peel you off from around a tree."

Z jumped into gear, packing a bag with toothbrush, books. He opened the front door and turned on the porch light; I sat on the couch trying to get a grip on myself. Not too long later, the paramedics arrived at the house. I walked to the door to let them in, still shaking with anxiety. I had been able to tell myself that nothing bad was happening right up until the word "ambulance" had joined the evening. Since then, I had been literally a nervous wreck.

The paramedics were very nice, also equipped with calming voices. I remember them walking in and saying, "Madhavi?" I think one of the first questions they asked was how old I was - it was a nice question that I knew the answer to. They stuck some electrodes to my chest and asked what had happened. I explained as best I could. My hands continued to shake and I kept thinking about how stress causes heart problems, that I needed to calm down, but even the words "heart problem" wound me up.

They took my pulse. The EKG read-out came back fine. They explained that this happens to a fair number of people, and went on to chat about several people they work with who have arrhythmias. They tried to blame it on caffeine - but I'd had my normal three cups of tea during the day, the last one around 3:30pm (it was now after 10pm). They suggested chocolate, alcohol and smoking none of which I had used that day. They even tried for jet lag but we explained that we'd flown in from NZ and that a two-hour time change simply cannot last three weeks! At this point, I was starting to calm down; I think I'd lost some of the big-eyed panic that I've been told about in every SCUBA class I've ever taken.

Eventually they left, telling me to see my GP soon - not Tuesday because it was a holiday; Wednesday would be fine. Z has brought up this point several times since in an effort to reassure me: they did not take me to hospital then and there, they did not even insist I see someone as soon as possible. Just soon.

I've been so attuned to my chest ever since - I feel everything, analyze everything. As instructed, I went to see a doctor on Wednesday who sent me off for a bunch of blood tests. I will wear a shoulder halter EKG for 24 hours in December (the earliest one is available). I only hope that I will get some answers, though I'm not at all sure that I will. I guess ruling out major things will be fine, too.

The panicky fear is still present, but I don't feel it all the time. I'm remembering that a cup of tea or a piece of chocolate does not mean that I will immediately drop dead. And the worst exhaustion from the shock of it all appears to have passed - that was yesterday when I had to fast before getting my blood taken. Me and fasting don't get along at the best of times, and this has certainly not been the best of times.

So, there's no need to panic. Seriously. Lots of people really do have heart arrhythmias. And if I can not panic, so can you.