Nothing and Everything Changes

Sudden Cardiac Arrest (SCA) changes everything. And then it changes nothing.

The initial aftermath is so stunning, shocking (no pun intended), far beyond unsettling. And not the purely physical manifestations - they are their own separate category. But mentally and emotionally, one starts with the MD or other clinicians explaining - sort of - what has happened.

And so it begins. First you deal with the immediate crap of it; and in my case, the physical 'crap' was really negligible. Relatively speaking, of course. Relative to others with SCA. Then, the mental and emotional adjustments begin. Initially, you think your whole world just changed. Everything in your whole world just changed. But then again - did it?

I was mortal before SCA. Granted, I didn't muse as often about my mortality as I have done post- SCA, but I don't muse about it daily anymore. It's a little more immediate than it was pre-Skippy, but not dramatically so. At least not today. Some days I guess I still feel like my mortality sits down with me for a visit - but not every single day.

I see risk a little differently. I should have worn a bike helmet before and I should wear one now. Difference is now I do. My risk of falling off the bike is a tiny bit higher (I'll fall off if Skippy the defibrillator fires). The damage from falling now v. then is the same. But I promised to wear one now, so I do.

And I worry that even with a medical green light, I may not find the courage to scuba dive again - that makes me as sad as anything. That is a risk and a fear I have not yet wrestled to the ground.

I never liked ladders; always felt nervous. Still do.

I struggled then with my weight. Still do.

Is my life shorter? Maybe yes, maybe no. Who knows?

Perhaps that is the most profound change from the SCA. A deep-seated certainty that we know nothing. And being at peace with that. Finding a joy in that. In a way, it is astonishingly liberating.

Things I miss

I was musing whilst on the elliptical machine.... It's mid-December and I really don't care much for the holiday season anymore. I used to, but have not for a number of years. Another story for another day.

But I was thinking about what is different these days. I had one of those flashes of terror today. Probably because the elliptical was at rehab and I could hear ambulance sirens and even the occasional helicoptor coming to the port (when I was inpatient a few months back, I tried to figure out whether a given coptor was dropping off or picking up - this is what we do to pass time...).

Back to what I miss - that flash of terror was about Sudden Cardiac Arrest - did that actually happen to me??!!! There is a gap between the things that happened that day and what I remember happening. And I'll be honest; I haven't been eager to fill in that gap. But I was in one of those ambulances for transport between Hospital A and Hospital B - and I wondered, on my elliptical today, was the siren on? That's when the terror wave passed over me. Then I realized that these waves of terror are becoming like the occasional cigarette cravings we get when we first quit - it can be a strong, vivid craving, but we are confident nonetheless that it will pass without doing harm.

Even so, I miss the innocence of not having that terror of SCA. I think mostly we pass through our routine lives without any moments of sudden, real terror. Unless you get held up or mugged or caught in a hurricane - we don't have much terror. And I would like my moments of terror to go away again. I could live without them.

What else do I miss?

- the two sides of my chest feeling the same. Now, there is a 'bulge' in one side where the defibrillator Skippy lives. I fear a mammogram and am secretly, guiltily relieved that the guidelines may change to every other year......I miss not thinking like that.

- I miss not having foreign things in my body. Yes, I know, I am supposed to feel relieved and reassured that Skippy is in there, but still - I'd rather not. And there is a new George Clooney movie out where he, the seasoned business traveler, is being instructive with a younger colleague - on the subject of getting through security - he advises: never line up behind the elderly, their bodies are LITTERED with metal. I am not elderly, but I am getting littered and I miss being un-littered with metal (although, truth be told, there is metal in a knee as well).

- I miss riding my bike without a helmet. Yes, yes, I know - the helmet is prudent but now it is "doctor's orders" - me being me, I always wear the helmet. Ah, the sensation of wind blowing through the helmet plastic.

- I miss driving fast on a highway. I don't think I will ever again drive 80. Not that I should anyway, but ....

- I miss scuba diving without the fear that Skippy will fail or Skippy will fire without needing to - or I guess that he will fire WITH needing to. I can't say worry-free diving b/c I always worried a little.

- And here is the weird one - I miss my driver. I don't miss being unable to drive, but I miss DD (Driver Dude). His type of big black truck is such a common vehicle here in Coastal Carolina; I seem to see them everywhere. His is extremely distinctive from the front and pretty distinctive from the rear --- so my disappointment that it's not him is quick and complete. This has taken me by surprise, the missing of DD.

Mostly I miss the "before" life. Life without this worry, this reality, these facts I don't much care for.