This time last year . . .

Thanks to Facebook, I got a little reminder a day or so ago about where we were last year at this time. We had gone up the highway for a few days to hike and enjoy "fall" in the Sierra.  Coincidentally, it was also when I was getting checked out for my heart condition.  I wasn't quite sure I could remember when that happened, but with Facebook's nudging and a look at my phone's calendar, I was able to recreate our trip - and another portion of our journey together.

Good thing it was not summer! This is easy to hide under a sweater.

November 5th was the day - photos of that glorious hike up the mountain came back to remind me how beautiful it was.  And then there's that photo that I would not have posted on Facebook - the one with the wires from the Holter monitor zigging and zagging across my chest . . . 

Since I had been having this odd sensation when I used the bike trainer on the patio, and my deductible had been met (I hate to say it, but financial considerations do play a role in the appointments I schedule with the doctor), I had gone in to see a cardiologist and step one of that process is to wear a monitor for 24 hours. Since I had been in for a stress test years ago and nothing was found, I was determined that I would have an episode this time.  I got home, got on the trainer and rode hard until the odd sensation occurred.  Breathless, a little dizzy, heart thumping and racing - there it was!  Bingo!  Surely there would be something to review this time!

Some of the most beautiful trails in the world are in the Sierra. Roger and I love it here.

Trees here are survivors

We had planned this trip before I made the doctor appointment, and I didn't want to miss it, so I arranged to wear the monitor over the night and keep it through the weekend.  During our hike the next morning (at 10,000 feet) I jogged along the trail until I felt woozy, hoping to get another episode recorded.  Yes indeed.  There's that odd, breathless feeling again.  Wouldn't anyone feel breathless, hiking at 10,000 feet?  Probably.  But the racing in my chest was not normal, and I hoped the monitor picked it up.

It was a relief when my 24 hours was up, and I was able to peel the sticky little doo-dads off my chest.  Another day in the Sierra without being trussed up like a turkey, and then we were home.

I can't quite make out from the calendar exactly when all the follow-up appointments were, but it's clear enough that I had to go see the cardiologist in Redlands again for the results from the monitor (yes, you have Afib) and then I was scheduled to see the electrocardiologist (specialist from LA who comes as far as Fontana every now and then).  This is the guy who would perform an oblation, if that turned out to be the best course of treatment.  He is the "heart rhythm" guy, and was very helpful to our understanding of what was going on.

We discussed my options and general health, and ultimately agreed that we'd just take a "wait and see" approach since I had, by this time, also been diagnosed with sleep apnea and that condition can have an affect on the heart, leading to a high correlation with Afib.  Since I was just beginning to use the breathing machine for that, I made the case that maybe this treatment would address the Afib, and I would not need medicine or treatment at all.  Plus, I was scheduled for surgery to correct my right carpal tunnel issues.  I wasn't going to be doing anything very athletic for weeks anyway, as I recovered from that surgery.  The doctor prescribed a very low dose beta blocker for me, and said to call him if I had symptoms, and then we would fill the script and begin medication.  Otherwise, nothing. 

Thus it was I headed into the Thanksgiving holiday with thanks that I wasn't facing an imminent oblation. Even as I awaited my next surgical procedure the following week!

The heart-shaped rock seemed especially appropriate on this hike!