February 4, 2013 by Kriscinda Lee Everitt
So, as of today, I’ve been using this wireless heart monitor for about a week.
It’s not a huge deal. I have an irregular heartbeat—which I’ve had for at least twenty years—as many people do. It’s not uncommon. It can be, though, annoying. Most of the time it’s a flutter in the chest. For the most part, I’ve managed to block it out, especially when I’m busy doing things. It’s obviously most noticeable when I’m not moving—just sitting watching TV or something. But sometimes—sometimes—it’s this walloping gallop in your chest that lasts a second or two.
If a second or two doesn’t seem like a long time, I’m hear to tell you it is long enough when a major, vital organ is doing anything it’s not really supposed it. Point: It’s not going to kill me—at least, it’s not likely to kill me—but it doesn’t occasionally scare the crap out of me. Just for that second or two. Which stinks. Especially if I’m particularly stressed and it’s happening many, many times a day, instead of the usual several times a week.
So, we decided I should get hooked up and wear one of these thingys, just so the cardiologist can really see what my heart is doing in there. I came off the beta-blocker and then got hooked up the next day. Of course, my heart doesn’t want to cooperate and in the first seven days, it’s done barely anything. A flutter or two. I’m starting to feel like The Girl Who Cried Irregular Heartbeat.
Wearing the thing’s taken a little getting used to. It comes in two “pieces,” I’ll say: the monitor, which gets hooked up to me via three wires, and the wireless piece that communicates my information to some person out there who, um, monitors me. That’s probably the weirdest part, by the way—that there is someone out there who’s job it is to monitor my heartbeat remotely. Like, if I were to leave the wireless communicator, say, in the bathroom after I’ve taken a shower, and I forget it for a few hours, I should get a phone call from someone making sure I haven’t keeled over.
That’s kinda weird.
But anyway, yeah, it’s sometimes a pain to keep track of the wireless piece because, well, I’m busy, and I run around a lot sometimes. And if I have to charge it during the day while I’m doing stuff, I’m most likely going to keep walking away from the thing (it must stay within 7-10 feet of me at all times).
The biggest pain, though—literally—is the rash. Apparently, I’m allergic to medical adhesive. I guess I should have known this, because every time I get blood drawn for the thyroid thing, and they tape that little piece of gauze down there so I don’t, apparently, bleed out all over the place, I end up with red marks where the tape had been. It’s never been terrible, because it’s never on for long. I just figured my skin’s a little sensitive and the pulling of the tape off made it red. I guess I was wrong.
These pics don’t seem too bad—and really, it’s not—but it’s itchy, and starting to get a little blistery. So, I called the monitor people and said, “help me,” and they did. I’m going to try moving them around (I wasn’t sure exactly how much you could move them around). They’re changed every day, but they’re there 24-7, except when I’m in the shower, so leaving them in the same place—for a month—would probably suck pretty badly.
So I will work on making more red marks along my collar bone and left rib cage. If I’m looking particularly lepery, I will certainly post pics.
Now, open up this link in a new window or tab, turn up your speakers, let it play, and then come back here and look at Moggy. (By the way, I can’t begin to express the joy it gives me knowing someone took the time to compile all of Tom Araya’s screams.)