So, for the record, I’m still not dead.
While I did have some sort of a heart event, with continuing irregularities after, it is not in any way a “conventional heart attack.” Those are the good news.
The contributing factors to this debacle seem to be in no particular order: auto-immune paroxysm of some sort which made my breathing very ineffective, mineral imbalances (I seem to SHED potassium and sodium, aka why I can’t wear contact lenses) persistently low blood pressure and low heart rate. Apparently it’s a bad idea to put less oxygen on your low-pressurized blood. Who knew?
The bad news is that no one knows how it got so far so fast, and “keep your d*mn autoimmune under control” seems to be at the top of the list. This does mean diet, exercise, regular breaks for fun things with family, and less facebook, I suppose.
They haven’t ruled out all possible causes, and I’ll have to come back for an MRI, since the autoimmune does things to your brain too (Yeah, you knew that. And no, not that way.)
BUT we’re inching ever so slowly to their letting me the heck out of here. The hospitalist said one more evaluation and I could go, so expect a couple of hours or three. Hospital time is different. From “we’re going to discharge you” to walking out has taken anywhere up to five hours.. Then I can go home, take a nap and finish this novel.
Okay, I might shower first. I’m gross and haven’t even rinsed conditioner off my head for two days. (I collapsed in the shower.)
As of right now, not only is my demise not expected, but I’m being given the oddest orders you ever saw from a cardiologist. OTOH raising blood pressure through stress is counterindicated as that sets off the autoimmune.
So, stop that incursion into the infernal regions right now. Go bribe someone to get me checked out, instead. You know what would lower my stress? Getting home, getting some writing done, and maybe getting a party of you reprobates to go off with us to see the lights at the Denver zoo sometime next week. That would be amazing.