Celebratory Anxiety or Anxious Celebration

I must admit that I am still not feeling celebratory. Skippy's (the defibrillator's) first birthday is around the corner (September 5). I fully expected to feel joyful, and thought I'd be planning a gratitude-filled celebration. However, while it certainly has been on my mind relentlessly in the past week or two, instead of that joy, I continue to feel anxious.

This anxiety is not rational (is any?). It's out of character for me to dwell on what I cannot control or impact, but I continue to dwell on that morning one year ago. I want there to be cause and effect for the Sudden Cardiac Arrest (SCA); I want there to have been undeniable signs and symptoms that morning that would have anyone,anywhere seek medical attention. Every now and then, I also just wish it had never happened, but truthfully, not too much of that.


Every now and then I think "why me?" but not often. Recently, I had to listen to an acquaintance who has subjected his body to massive abuse for decades tell me he came through his physical with flying colors. Annoying, while I prepare to mark the date of my implanted defibrillator. But these are not the dominant thoughts; these pass quickly. The 'why me?' question also passes or dissolves quickly into thoughts of my gifts - decent IQ, good hair -- what we inherit is a crap shoot, so I don't muse often or for long about getting a raw deal with SCA.

But the anxiety is from there having been no known reason and even more frightening, no compelling symptoms or signs. All I had that morning was an unnerving sensation that something was weird in my chest (turned out to be rapid heart rate). My going to the ER was just very, very lucky. I've had loved ones tell me that I went because I was intelligent enough to recognize that something very out of the ordinary was happening. I was there that morning, and I just don't think it was a decision based on IQ level.

It was instinct; it was fear of the unknown; it was something that got me to the ER.
So I am wrestling these days with the anxiety of the lack of a known cause for the SCA, no available prediction on recurrence, a complete lack of understanding of why I went to the ER and therefore survived, and having no confidence I would recognize a sign/symptom again.

But aside from all that, I'm looking forward to 9/5. that was pure sarcasm; I am just looking forward to having the date in my rear view mirror. This is not fun.

How to Celebrate?

They say..... "they" being people who survive Sudden Cardiac Arrest.... they say that we should celebrate our SCA date as our "second birthday". Mine is coming up - on 9/5/10, it will be one year. One entire, jaw-droppingly astonishing year.

I've largely grown accustomed to Skippy the defibrillator's presence; I've wrestled to the ground many of the fears that started out being so enormous they were starkly, nakedly and overwhelmingly terrifying. But the thing that I have in no way gotten used to is that there are moments that come out of nowhere where it all just knocks me on my heels. Figuratively, I'm happy to say.

Moments that come out of the blue. Like cravings for cigarettes 12+ years after the last one I smoked - bang, the moment is there. Real, raw, sharp, insistent, demanding. The SCA 'out of the blue' moments are breathtaking in their way. It's just that bright light blast of "damn - did that ACTUALLY happen to ME?" My flipping heart just stopped? STOPPED?
That one is followed so quickly by the still unanswered "how the hell did I know to go to the Emergency Room that morning?" I have replayed and replayed and replayed that morning 9/5/09 and honestly, I still don't genuinely understand what made me go. And I've replayed the chain of events if I had NOT gone, or even if I had not gone exactly when I did.
And I didn't go to the ER the moment I woke up that day. I woke up, felt weird and probably spent 20-30 minutes trying to sort out what was wrong and what to do. So after a half hour or so, something made me go.

I was in the ER only around 10 minutes before the arrest. A 10 minute window. 600 seconds. Is that right? 600? Life and death.
If I had not gone to the ER when I did, I would have arrested at home; Tom probably would not have woken up.
That would have been my end.
600 seconds.

After musing and rolling around for a few minutes grappling with the out-of-the-blue SCA moment, my core of uber pragmatism takes over and I am transported back to the far less dramatic present.

So now I am back to -- how to celebrate? I've never been one for rituals. I only attended my high school graduation because my parents forced me to; I skipped both with my college and Law School graduations. My wedding was small, quick and informal. Never much cared for New Year's.

But even I, anti-ritual and pragmatic; even I feel a profound obligation and desire to mark this date.

At least this evening I do.
I just don't know yet how to....

As we say, what a wonderful problem to have.