My little metronome

Six years ago my heart had a senior moment and temporary forgot how to beat in synchronization. That led to several complications which put me in the hospital for about a week. When all was said and done I came home with an ICD or Implanted Coronary Defibrillator installed in my chest. I soon learned that stating "I have an ICD" at the airport would cause panic if the TSA screeners mistakenly thought that you were advising them that you had and "IED", trade talk for an Improvised Explosive Device.

This little "Metronome" sits quietly in my chest working as a pacemaker unless it believes that my heart has stopped or has an extended irregular rhythm. I have only had that happen once. On that occasion I yelped, jumped three foot in the air, and exclaimed "I think my Defibrillator just went off". Bystanders, wanting to escaped any involvement, scurried away like rats leaving a sinking ship.

Well after 6 years my health has declined considerably. I am no longer able to do much without detailed logistical planing for my transportation and oxygen requirements.

Now the battery in this little device is about to expire, so at six tomorrow morning I will be at the hospital to get it replaced with a new one.  This is expected to be a simple procedure, an incision through the flesh over my breast bones, slip the old one out, unplug it, plug in the new one, run some tests, sew me up, and send me home a few hours later.

Still I have some apprehension. The tests on the new device include speeding up, slowing down, stopping, and starting my heart with it. I don't like the stopping idea. Oh well that is life in the slow lane.