The alarm...

Well, it's that time of the decade again... time to replace the pacemaker. 

Oddly, it's taken me by surprise... (I know... do I even read my own blog???).  After going to several pacemaker check appointments and hearing... "well, it says you've got two months of battery power left"... I guess I started to feel like I kept calling "wolf" on myself.  I'd get all worked up about the appointments... then hear that I'd got another reprieve.

So, by my September appointment I was pretty used to the "How about we see you again in two months?" spiel...
... and I said, "Well... that's around the holidays..."
... and the pacer tech said "OK, we could probably push it out to January"...
... and I said, "OK" without thinking too much about it.

And the moral of the story is... I should have thought about it...

A few days ago I started feeling funny heartbeats... and I thought to myself "hmmm... now WHY would my pacemaker be pacing now?  I feel fine."  And still no bells went off.

Thirty-six hours in, I figure it out.  Something's wrong. 

Duh.

I call the cardiologist's office... I go in... and when we query the pacemaker (fancy stuff... they can get information from the pacemaker through the skin and all this great info shows up on the computer screen)... and it says:

10/16/11 7:48pm
Pacemaker program: 65 bpm
Low battery detected: replacement recommended

Hmmm... I'm thinking... 65 bpm is not my program. 

Oooohhhh.... so it seems that the battery ran down so far that it reverted to a default program where it paces anytime my heart rate goes below 65 beats per minute.  No WONDER I'm feeling it when I sit down. 

Next bit of serendipity... my cardiologist is on vacation.  Are they legally allowed to take vacations?  I mean... people have heart stuff happen all the time.  I think I'll have to talk to him about this.  No vacations in years that end in 1's.  Mkay?  Thanks.

So, my choices were have someone I don't know anything about cut into me, or wait for my cardiologist of 15 years do it when he gets home from Bermuda... (I don't really know where he went)... but I'll ask him, because now I'm curious.  I chose to wait, even though it's uncomfortable, because I haven't always had stellar luck finding the cardiologists who graduated at the top of their class.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I've met a few who cheated off the guy next to them.  I'm not takin' any chances... eh.

Surgery is next Wednesday morning.  Blech.