Closing a Cardiac Chapter

Today's visit to Dr. Xu, my cardiologist (and the busiest man in Sacramento), felt like the closing of a 6.5-year chapter in my life. 

The cardiac chapter opened around Valentine's Day, 2018, on a visit to Albuquerque, NM. I felt unusually tired; just dog-tired. Albuquerque's cold February wind just blew right through me. I blamed a cold virus and the altitude for the fatigue. I returned to Sacramento and had trouble with Zumba and theater rehearsal.

It took several days before dizziness finally brought me to the doctor. I was quickly directed to Sutter Medical Center, where they diagnosed a heart attack, apparently brought on by asymptomatic atrial fibrillation (Afib) - a condition that can also easily cause strokes. It was hard to square something dangerous with the lack of pain.

Not everyone was sure about the diagnosis, however. One of the ER doctors said, "This looks just like a cocaine heart attack." "Really?," I replied. "Yes," he said. He pondered a bit and said, "So, just how much cocaine did you have?" (Even heart attacks are the grist for the humor mill, sometimes.) 

Since 2018, I've been using drugs to (imperfectly) control the Afib. In May of this year, it became evident the drugs weren't working well-enough anymore, so on July 26th I had a catheter ablation procedure to fix the Afib. 

The ablation procedure has a pretty-high failure rate, but so far it seems to be working well. I have worries about various possible failures, but there's apparently little reason to be worried. I mentioned Sudden Cardiac Death (SCD) to Dr. Xu, which, according to my advanced medical research on the Internet, is associated with severe dilation of the right atrium, a condition I was diagnosed with. The nurse-practitioner tried to reassure me: "It's not just your right atrium; your left atrium is dilated too." Great!  Dr. Xu said that SCD comes from a dilated ventricle, not a dilated atrium (which puts him at odds with the nether regions of the Internet, but oh well, he's the expert, as well as being the busiest man in Sacramento). 

This visit felt like a definite end, for now anyway. Time to get myself out of here.  I'm normal now.  I'm now feeling nostalgic for this very-poorly but very-aptly-named place, Sutter Medical Center's Invasive Cardiology Clinic. Time to close this door. Maybe later I can tell war stories about all the cocaine I (never) had. Like the song says: "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."