So.
6 doctors, 3 hospitals, and 2 states later, we are doing this.
Well, not exactly.
“This” would imply that we’re doing the exact same thing as originally planned.
But it’s 2020, so let me revise:
6 doctors, 3 hospitals, 2 states, and 3 types of surgery later…we are doing this.
April, July, and now October.
I’ve been trying to write a blog post about this for a few weeks, and every time I sat down to write, I just stared at a blank screen. Over and over and over again. It didn’t even feel like writer’s block, it was more of a creative weariness. My tank on this topic is absolutely empty.
I’m talking scrape-the-bottom, bone dry.
I’m waiting for heart surgery.
I’m planning every last detail for childcare and fur-child care.
I’m taking a few weeks off from work, and scheduling an “Out of Office” reply in my inbox.
I’m pre-ordering toiletries and medicine and snacks I can open with one hand.
I’m scheduling my COVID test.
I’m setting a reminder on my calendar for when to start using the pre-surgery soap.
I’m putting the freaking mail on hold, for crying out loud.
All for the third time this year.
To be honest, I don’t think I’ll believe I’m actually having surgery until it’s over.
This time I’ll be traveling south, to VCU, which unbeknownst to me is the electrophysiology cardiology capital of the East coast, possibly of the entire country. Who knew?
After everything imploded in July, I spent several hours hanging out with my boyfriend Google (don’t worry, Mr. Restarting My Hard Drive is aware of this relationship…as well as my other boyfriend, Amazon Prime). Over and over and over again, I kept coming across the same two names for all of the research in the world of Conduction System Pacing. One in the middle-of-nowhere Pennsylvania, and one right here in my own state of Virginia. I figured if anyone could tell me what to do next and if anyone could tell me when/where/how to do it, this was the guy.
So I picked up the phone.
There was a cancellation.
I got an appointment.
The records were sent.
I had the (virtual) appointment.
And here we are.
In all, I’ve seen six different electrophysiologists since July and the final tally was 4 votes for surgery, 1 who said he would “probably come to the same conclusion eventually” and 1 who initially said no (re: my last blog post) but then changed his vote when all of the pacemaker adjustments he proposed made matters significantly worse.
As I mentioned earlier, this surgery is actually different from the intended July surgery, and very different from the original surgery proposed in April. This time I’ll be having (ya know, if the doctor doesn’t get fired again) left lead bundle surgery, and a laser lead extraction. The left lead bundle is slightly different than the His-bundle pacing that was intended for July in the sense that it’s more direct - and therefore also more difficult to do correctly. For explanation’s sake, let’s talk broccoli.
Yes, broccoli.
So if you wanted some broccoli, you could go to the grocery store. Living in the land of privilege as we do, most of the time you can march yourself into the grocery store, go to the produce section, and grab yourself some broccoli - florets, stalks, an entire head, it’s all there. It’s an all around more convenient way to get some broccoli.
However, sometimes the store is out of broccoli. Sometimes they get a shipment of broccoli, but it has already gone bad. Sometimes you can only use half of it, and you have to toss (or compost!) the rest.
On the flip side, if you want to go somewhere where you can almost always guarantee you’ll find some broccoli and you can even pick it out yourself, you’ll go to the broccoli farm. It’s farther from home, and the road to get there is long, rocky and full of potholes, but if you take the time to drive there, you will almost always get what you want.
His-bundle pacing is getting broccoli from the grocery store. Left lead bundle pacing is getting broccoli from the farm. It’s a difficult place to access, but the results are much more consistently positive.
Seeing as I’m going to the experts in this field where surgeons have performed literally hundreds of these surgeries - we’re going to the damn farm.
Another change of plans is to remove one of the existing leads I have now, rather than leaving it in place and capping it off (the plan in July). Any sort of loose foreign object in your body is cause for concern, but especially a metal one near your heart, which would cause irreparable harm if I accidentally had an MRI in the event of an emergency. So the surgeon will bust out a light saber or two (ok fine, just a medical-grade laser) and remove the third lead while they’re in there.
One of the most bizarre elements of this medical drama is that, thanks to the pandemic, I’ve never met my surgeon. The virtual appointment I had was with the head of the department, who despite being the leading expert in the field, no longer performs surgeries himself. His entire staff is made up of doctors he has extensively trained himself, but he is no longer wielding the scalpel.
Nothing like introducing yourself to someone moments before they have access to your heart with a knife.
So we’re doing this.
Penelope’s third attempt at a retirement ceremony.
Now to the most important part - the new name. In all of the chaos that has surrounded this surgery, I’ve decided to break from tradition when naming Penelope’s successor. The submissions for a new P name were extensive, impressive and appreciated, but I think I’m going to hold onto them for 7-10 years from now (let’s go with 10 please, body).
Consider this your pre-birth announcement for RPG, or Ruth Pacer Ginsburg.
At the end of the day, I can think of no better moral compass for my heart.
