Apparently, not everything I post on Facebook is always long form LOL!
Really, I pulled the idea from my older Love, seeing her long form posts on thought and heart. That’s not entirely me, the heart portion anyway. I’m the thinking man’s Cancer LOL!
You’re wondering the three month mark?
May 5th I had my Ablation surgery to rid myself of Atrial Fibrillation. For those not familiar with the heart ailment, it’s an irregular and rapid heart rhythm that, while not always a permanent state of being, makes life difficult. The heart is literally forcing itself to work harder to pump blood through the body, even when it registers as fine. Ask any woman I’ve had a long-term relationship with about how tired I was because I wasn’t in afib and she’ll tell you about the amount of times I would do simple things, walking, hanging out in warmer or cooler temperatures, drinking whiskey in the summer, or even having sex and she’ll tell you that all of those things either had potential to send me to the ER or at the very least, bench me for several hours while I recovered. I was diagnosed at age twenty and in the ER for three days while they monitored me and I saw a cardiologist in Clear Lake, TX until I switched to a new doc in Livermore back in 2005 and again to a new doctor here back in 2016.
Add to that the fact that my relationship with alcohol and cigars didn’t hurt me, but it didn’t help and even if I’d have quit both completely? Ask me how many times I woke up from a nightmare and woke up in afib. More than once, let’s just say that. January 7th of 2020, I woke up in afib around 9:30 something. Sometimes that can be slept off and the heart will self-correct. Sometimes strenuous (read sexy personal times) can jolt it back into sinus rhythm, but the only change I made that week was taking a week off from drinking. I ended up having to go to the ER because the older lover pushed. Worse? She made me tell the younger lover (since she’s actually local) and around 1 AM Wednesday; I came home, ate, and went back to bed after having put in most of a full day at half speed because walking from one room to the other made me tired.
Nightmares. Think about that for a moment. A fucking Nightmare sent me into atrial fibrillation.
I struggled with the concept of ablation because it was literally a surgery they developed right around the time they diagnosed me. What they do is essentially go into the heart with a catheter, find the faulty pathways and either burn or freeze the faulty pathways in your heart, forcing your heart to actually use the ones that work.
Back in April of this year I was at my cardiologist and he’d threatened to take me off my pills which, I said no. Without them, I’m exhausted. I miss one and bam, I might as well shelf the day because I have just enough energy to take care of myself and ‘maybe’ pour a drink. He suggested the procedure and gave a recommendation to a doctor. I went, saw the Electrophysiologist and instantly liked him. I mean, what’s not to like about a guy who asks “How do you have two girlfriends?” and grins when I said “Welcome to America!” You should have heard our exchange the day of surgery!
After that was approved, I found myself at Monday Night Brewery for an ATL Cigar Co. event and talked to a guy who had the surgery thirteen years earlier. He had his energy, his body was in good shape, everything was positive, so I felt better.
Full disclosure: I’m pretty much on the Carnivore/Bulletproof/Wildfit diet so food isn’t an issue. And until I cut back on my drinking, sweets weren’t a thing. I know, I know…replacement therapy. Piss off! At least I understand WHY (Chocolate and alcohol have a similar effect on the brain.)
But on May 5th, this all ended. Twenty years of no energy. Twenty years of self-abuse I didn’t know was caused by a lack of blood flow and oxygen. Twenty years struggling with what I thought were mental issues I refused to treat outside of my normal because fuck that. Apparently, I’ve been labeled stubborn. Pfft.
Gone. Suffering. Gone.
Anguish (yes, it can even at my level cause that) gone.
Wolf Mode: Activated.
And after surgery, I could come back full swing, Full MOTHAPHUKIN’ H.A.M. The heat doesn’t bother me as much anymore; I don’t require the AC to be cranked at the shop when it’s above 85 outside and I’m working (with a cigar) or just hanging out (again, with a cigar!) I don’t have to watch what I drink when because of the temperature. I still do it because I cut back by choice. The walk from my apartment (it’s a quarter mile longer now) to MARTA doesn’t make me feel like utter shit.
In short, I have my life back. It’s been three months since surgery and I still feel like a million dollars. What’s that mean for you? It means that it’s taken me a lot longer to get a novel written because there’s been a LOT of doctor stuff all around (no, not covid nonsense) and house stuff and two new kitties (one back in May, one we just brought in from the street) and creation of a path back to writing/trading. My next post will share something from the Demon/Human PNR I started just after surgery.
Honestly? I don’t think I felt this good in my teens. Here’s to life, to joy, to promises and experiences, all before I turned 43, and the aftermath of the decision I made.