Perfect Day

Those of us who have had visits with death - surviving Sudden Cardiac Arrest (SCA) or something else along those lines --- we don't need much help finding joy in our days. We find frustration, anxiety, pain, fear, to be sure, but we also find joy in places we never looked before.

Yesterday I had a perfect day. Worked for much of it, but then broke off early to meet a friend with a boat. (This is heaven on earth - friends with boats. Much better than actually owning a boat, I think). Granted, I now live in a place I find spectacular in its physical beauty - created by the shores on salt water. For me, there will always be a special magic to 'water-you-can't-see- the-other-side-of.'

So off we went on the friend's boat heading northwards in the intracoastal waterway. It's a small boat, but on a calm day with winds from the right direction, it can safely go into the ocean. And into the ocean we went. North again. Past undeveloped land, which is also magic on the Atlantic.

We then anchored on the ICW side of one undeveloped island, trekked over and swam and body- surfed until it almost began to get dark....That incredible time of day. While you're in the ocean, you watch (or try to watch) as dusk takes the horizon away.

Didn't see another soul, not even another boat.

Just us, birds, jumping fish and the joy of endless water.

Back onto the boat and headed home as night fell.

Perfect day. Boat, salt water, quiet, empty beach, great company.

One gift from SCA - we will never take a day like that for granted.

Looking backwards

I met someone for lunch yesterday. A new acquaintance, perhaps we'll do some work together, we have one shared network - that type of new friendly relationship.

We got on well, exchanging our work histories, our plans; common ground included a decent sense of humor. I mentioned my Cardiac Arrest almost in passing. He was one of those people who are intensely curious about it; some are, others think it's synonymous with a heart attack, some don't care. Anyway, he asked a lot of questions from the clinical to the emotional. He's a smart guy, and they were smart questions.

One was new - and pulled me up short for a second. Simple question really. It was "since the SCA, do you find yourself thinking back and regretting things you have or haven't done in your life?". I am sure it's perfectly reasonable that many people would do exactly that, but I just don't have that chemistry or orientation or whatever it is.

I honestly hadn't thought about it during these 5 months, and that was the surprise. But when faced with the very well-intended question, I did then think about it. And no. I haven't done that; I don't think I have spent 5 minutes looking back over my shoulder. Maybe I should, but I have not.

I spend time thinking about now, my new now - and the future of course, but not looking back. I'm not sure if it's a lack of introspection or just my inherent pragmatism. I couldn't help but think "what's the point of that?" - yup, pragmatism.

And of course Alanon and Courage to change - making constant clear distinctions between what we can control and what we can't -------- and not wasting our time and energy on the latter.

Me, I focus more on coming to terms this this new now and thinking about the future - the hopes, plans and fears of it.

But is surely was a great question - so surprising I hadn't even considered it.

Not Driving Made Me a Better Driver - really

Post Sudden Cardiac Arrest, I was not allowed to drive for 90 days. I didn't have physical limitations, just doctor's orders. I think they want to make sure you're not going to repeatedly lose consciousness out there. [Prudent, but another day we can argue about SCA people behind the wheel v. texters, eaters, arguers, singers, kid-tenders and all that].

So for 90 days, I sat in the passenger seat. With lots of different drivers. I hired one for the routine, non-social stuff. The first month included a depressing number of doctor visits, then 3 times per week to cardiac rehab for the duration. And all the mundane errands that I just couldn't bring myself to ask friends to do.

Beyond Driver Dude, I was a passenger with friends, acquaintances and visitors. 90 days. Passenger seat. And we know what our normal instincts are from that passenger seat. We "communicate" with sharp intakes of breath, occasional squeals or yelps, and of course, the slamming or tapping the foot on the phantom brake pedal we have over there. In a really tense situation, we might do all at once- gasp, yelp, slam foot to floor and perhaps grab the dash or the handle above the door. Not endearing, to be sure.

I am happy to say I don't think I did any of that. It was a quick conclusion that for 90 days I would have ZERO control over the car(s). I couldn't go faster, slower, change lanes, decide to stop short at a yellow or pop through as it turned pink. Nada, zip - zero control.

So I relaxed. Honestly, you can make a DECISION to relax. There is no control, we might as well give up all illusion and hope of control and enjoy the lack of it. Happily, Driver Dude was an excellent driver, so it was easier to get started with the "I will relax and forget about control and even influence over the vehicle"... A new 12 step mantra! "I am powerless over the car, and my life has become....".

It worked, first with him and then with the others. Not all of them were great drivers, of course. One often drifts over the center line, another accelerates at odd moments, one seems to be competing for a prize for number of lane changes per mile, and so on. But regardless - no control over here in the passenger seat. [I will say that I did want to ask the center-line-drifter if she/he didn't ever NOTICE the fact that oncoming vehicles swerved and veered away from the center in wild self-defense as we approached. But I was on a mission to relax over there, so I never did ask that.]

So I went through my 90 days and then got my keys back. I was surprised how quickly I dropped into my old driving habits and attitudes. How I was cranky about other drivers again right away after 9o days of zero crankiness in a car. How I drove faster again - Driver Dude never drove fast. It was kind of nice after I got used to it. But here I was, driving fast, changing lanes, calculating the odds of getting through that light, silently bemoaning how others drove. Too fast, too slow, too close on my tail, not close enough to the guy in front of them...

I've stopped. Or mostly stopped. I found a great sticker for the car; first sticker I've put on my car since I was in my early twenties (Philadelphia Flyers stickers - they had won the Stanley Cup; it was almost a Philly requirement). Here it is; a nice discreet oval "Wag more, Bark Less". On my car. My new motto.

I drive more slowly; I don't race. I don't change lanes. I mostly don't get cranky with other drivers (though I do have my lapses, for sure). It's a more peaceful experience to be sure. All this non-barking.

Not driving made me a better driver. Thanks to SCA.

An annoyance today - 2nd Edition

I don't think I have written much about annoyances; it seems it's been bigger topics - either joys or fears...

But today, I have an annoyance to get off my chest, no pun intended. I sometimes visit a site for "survivors" of SCA; it is somewhat interesting and I found it very reassuring in the first days after the Sudden Cardiac Arrest - just the comfort of knowing others live through this. Reminded me of my earliest days in Alanon (how could these people be so HAPPY??).

On SCAA today, I read a post I nearly responded to - it was from a wife who commented that she believed the family members have a more difficult experience to deal with than the survivor. Seriously??? While I understand that we all view the world from our own seats, this was difficult for me to picture..... OK, i'll grant you that in the moments of the SCA itself, the horribly frantic medical intervention, the defibrillator paddles, the initial moments of not knowing if we would survive, suffer brain damage, etc. - I'll grant you, that is tougher for the family members and friends, because of course, we don't actually remember any of that. Losing consciousness has its benefits.

But after.... after.... sorry to all the wives, husbands, partners, sisters, brothers, children -- after that, I think the "survivor" takes the unfortunate prize. For SCA cases like mine, we have devices in our chest walls that may or may not "fire" knocking us on our asses, may or may not "restart" our hearts that have stopped or flopped into unproductive non-rhythms --- We live a new life. We now have a new boarder in our lives ----- our mortality sits right here with us each and every day. Yes, I know, a normal maturation process is an understanding and acceptance of our mortality, but trust me - this is different. My mortality has breakfast with me every day, drives the car with me everywhere I go, and beds down with me each and every night.

I am sure the posting wife meant no harm, she is probably an enormously empathetic spouse, but it really rubbed me the wrong way.

I admit I feel a little like a child having a tantrum - NO - this is MY SCA! Your heart didn't stop.....

Getting the life back - one drive at a time

Another milestone!

One of the most inconvenient things about the SCA (aside from the heart stopping thing) was that I was not permitted to drive for 90 days. Me being me, I was utterly compliant. I got behind the wheel of my car one day to put it in the garage (from the driveway).

It is trying, dependence. I hired a driver for appointments and some errands, but am just too cheap to have engaged him for things like "take me to the beach and watch me walk there for 30 minutes". I was lucky to have a pretty steady stream of visitors who were very generous with their time, but still ---- I also relied heavily on my new friends (I had only lived in Wilmington NC for 2 1/2 months when the SCA happened) --- I went anywhere someone would take me. And happily, I live in an area that is not just conducive to bike-riding, it is spectacular.

All that said, it is still so difficult to just not be able to go where you want to go when you want to go. And to go NOWHERE alone. Saturday, my sentence was up and I drove, drove, drove all day. I laughed with a friend that night that it was the first time I got into a car in 3 months without having to say "Hello".

Having spontaneity back and independence back are so liberating. It is joyous and marks yet another huge step in getting my life back. Or crafting my new life, as the case may be. (In the middle of all this, I ended a very long term relationship with the gentleman in my life - he has his demons who sadly seem to have won out; I can't live with those demons, so poof! he is now out of my life --- that process took months, so it is a huge relief to have that done as well).

I am so grateful for every one of these steps - from having survived the SCA against the 98% odds to regaining the exercise level - to even getting the MD to OK some scuba --- and now - driving . Gratitude is a powerful word, but it falls short here.

SCAA - the wonder of the web

Today I found SCAA - Sudden Cardiac Arrest Association. I don't know much about it yet, but there are many "survivors" who have posted.

I joined and posted a short version of my story along with the lead line:

"I am so grateful to have found you all".

The web defies description; no matter what, you will find others experiencing what you have experienced.

First Ten MInutes - the start

Why the name?

I recently lived through an episode of "Sudden Cardiac Arrest" - I survived it because I happened to be in a hospital Emergency Room when it happened.

I was admitted for a few days of tests, procedures, monitoring and finally the insertion of my very own pacemaker/defibrillator.

On the morning of discharge, my very witty Cardiologist/electrophysiologist stopped by:

Him: How was your night?

Me: Fine.

Him: Did you sleep OK?

Me: Fine. Like a log.

Him: No problems with your heart?

Me: No. I haven't had any problems with my heart since I've been here.

Him: Well, except for those first ten minutes.............

Check back - this will be a journey of discovery, battle, adjustment, balance. Oh, and learning to accept some facts I just don't care for.

Marty

September 14, 2009