Indistinguishable From Magic

First off, there is no 100% cure for a-fib. However, with the wizardry of modern technology and the virtuoso talent of modern electrophysiologists, we can now manage the HELL outa this deadly condition. Read on…

In 2006, I started to notice a strange fluttering sensation in my chest. It certainly didn’t feel like any description of a heart attack that I’d ever heard of… just a disconcerting feeling that there was a fish in the vicinity of heart that wanted out…NOW! Being a big fan of Ridley Scott’s film “Alien,” I didn’t want to take any chances (did I remember any encounters with a strange pod that shot forth a spidery crab-like creature that grabbed on to my face and planted an alien entity into my gut? Hmmm…I think I would have remembered that) …I decided to ask my doctor about it. After many preliminary tests and a battery of various heart stress exams, he determined that it was probably acid reflux. I would learn much later that acid reflux or GERD is the default diagnosis for much of what ails a person as they enter midlife. At least this was the case until the advent of amazing devices (that I’m SURE Arthur C. Clark would have loved) but, no spoilers…

As the years went on, the alien fluttering continued and started to be accompanied by what felt like my heart racing as if I had just participated in a one hundred yard sprint and then just stopped without a warm down ( I had read about exercise, but admittedly wasn’t a practitioner. Unless one counts playing high “F”s on trombone as exercise)

Curiouser and curiouser…

It should also be mentioned that I was quite a “rolling stone” throughout this period of my life with first a career move, then a series of relocations as a result of a divorce. Hard to keep medical records consistent when you migrate from state-to-state. But, throughout it all, there was a very real concern (the chest alien had a habit of reminding me often) that there was more going on here than an upset stomach.

While living in Texas for seven years, I was able to mount a very thorough campaign to test my heart for all kinds of things…except it turns out, the thing that was wrong with it. No severe blockage (just the normal amount brought on by high cholesterol and chocolate cake for breakfast for years …but that is a story for another time…) no sign of any heart attacks or heart disease. Just the occasional arrhythmia on an EKG here-and-there (insert ominous Hans Zimmer cue here) At the end of this series of testing, my doctor pronounced my heart to be healthy (he forgot, however, to send the Ridley Scott creature living in my chest and having big fun with some kind of Olympic floor gymnastics program a memo on this prognosis) I have now learned that this misdiagnosis was the result of dealing with the muscles and physical attributes of the heart and not the electrical intricacies. What-WHAT? Fear not, read on…

Next up was another career move that took me to Denver for seven years. During this time my new set of Docs (including a cardiologist and G.I. specialist) decided that I indeed was suffering from a form of GERD (gastroesophageal reflux disease, or the condition that occurs with a constant back-flow of acid from the stomach to the esophagus…reminds me of drivers that I encounter actually) but this time around a new wrinkle was added: the very creative G.I. person said that I had an esophagus spasm, and even “saw” said movement on a barium test scan. Well, at least now we had something to describe the alien (to which the true nature of the beast in my chest did a fair imitation of Mr. Burns on The Simpsons saying “Excellent!”) The meds prescribed for this condition seemed to have a fairly good effect at first, but then just began to fade away.