This past week has been quite a roller coaster. On Sunday night, Mike started getting chest pains which is highly unusual since he had surgery to fix that problem a few years ago. He drove himself to the ER within half an hour. I couldn't go with him or drive him because Dexter was in bed already. I was already nearly falling asleep and it was late, so I stayed home and we txted back and forth with updates every few hours until they finally admitted him into the ICU, for close monitoring.
I went to the hospital to see him as soon as I could the next morning and spent most of the morning with him. I didn't tell Dexter anything about the hospital because he already gets upset when I start talking about being at the hospital when his sister arrives. They tried to use medication to set his heart back to a normal rhythm twice. The second time shortly before I arrived. It didn't work so the last option is to use the defibrillator to set his heartbeat back to normal. That's not fun. He's had to do that once before. I saw them do it. It's not a procedure you want to see done on your loved one.
When I finally left to grab something to eat and visit the office to get a few things done before I headed back, that's of course when the doctors did the defibrillator. I walked (read waddled) as fast as I could the mile to the hospital and got to the room just as he was waking up. Thankfully, if it's planned, the patient is put under while they are shocked. Mike is a little odd in that you can't tell if he's truly conscious. I was talking to him for a few minutes before I realized he wasn't quite awake when I first walked in. He started telling me about EPMD and how that made him think of an 80s rapper, PMD and that it stood for something making Dollars… that's how I knew he was still loopy.
Ironically, I had an appointment across the street for my 33 week checkup. I had to leave before Mike was 100% back to normal, but he was mostly coherent. It was the first time with this pregnancy that I had to wait over an hour to see the doctor to talk for about 15 minutes. Everything was fine, I think my blood pressure was a little higher, but the nurse said it as "within range". I had also gained another 10 lbs over the last month.
They released him around 5pm without a definitive explanation as to why it happened again. The only thing he can do is visit his cardiologist, electrophysiologist, and wait to see when it happens again to see whether it will require surgery, medication, or the just the occasional ER visit. Nothing like feeling like a walking time bomb or being married with children to that time bomb. I suppose I'm leading that life right now being pregnant, but I know roughly when it's gonna happen.
I'm glad he's okay, but it's been a core-shaking experience because it wasn't supposed to happen again. We've been through it enough that, while it's frightening, we aren't as freaked out about as most people would be. This is the 5th or 6th time that I've been through it with him. He's been through it more than that and that's just the times he's gone to the hospital. He hasn't always gone. Now we are back to that being a possibility again after a few years of being comforted that it wouldn't happen.
In my selfishness, I'm glad it didn't happen on my birthday. Last year on my birthday, he had an emergency appendectomy. Next year, third time's a charm… I think I'll try to "forget" it's my birthday so nothing will happen. It's obviously not a good day for Mike. All I want for my birthday next year is my husband in good health.
