The Waiting is the Heartest Part
Just out of sheer spite, 2006 has seen fit to deposit my mother into the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center for some more cardiac hijinks. It was a planned, scheduled procedure this time; no involvement from emergency room personnel was necessary. It seems that during a recent routine office visit, my mother’s cardiologist said something like, “Hey, you’re doing really well, so while you’re healthy, let’s go ahead and get you fitted up with a combination defibrillator/pacemaker,” in the same breezy, nonchalant tone my mechanic uses when saying, “That serpentine belt’s looking a little worn. We might as well replace it now.”
This morning, a very experienced and respected surgeon is running a catheter into my mother in order to install this clever little device that not only coaxes the heart into beating properly, but also monitors things so that if the heart goes out of rhythm or if (god forbid) the heart stops, an electric shock is administered to set things right.
I feel guilty that I’m not in Pittsburgh with my family. As the procedure is considered quite routine and reasonably safe (knock on wood), I was forbidden by my parents to leave the state of Ohio; they apparently prefer that I perform my nervous obsession rituals in the Greater Cleveland Area rather than spraying neurotic energy all over the walls of a major urban research hospital.
All of this is just to say that I’m in an anxious, waiting-for-the-phone-to-ring sort of mindset, so it’s nearly impossible for me to concentrate on my job at the moment. Frankly, it’s nearly impossible for me to concentrate on my job on regular, benign days, so today is shot to hell as far as I’m concerned.
And now I have Tom Petty stuck in my head. Well, I have that Tom Petty song from the title of this post stuck in my head, anyway; I do not actually have Tom Petty prancing around in my skull. At least, not that I know of.
Update, 2/9: She's OK! The surgery was successful, and her heart is now all hooked up to leads and batteries and whatnot. I asked her if this meant we could wire her for surround sound; she told me to bite her. All's well.
posted by Kate at 10:08 AM link/comments
