I'd really prefer being the nurse. It's fine for everyone to get the experience of being the one in the bed, but I've got it now. I went into SVT three times at work Sunday morning so I was feeling bad when I got home. I lay in bed all day fitfully sleeping and getting woken up by a pounding heart followed by puking followed by sweating and then freezing. Then I felt better, so I got up, and that REALLY ticked off my ticker and it started galloping hell for leather. Then I felt like my chest was being squeezed by the Incredible Hulk and I couldn't breathe, so I decided that the boundary for Doing Something About It had arrived, sucked it up, and went to work to check in.
After a lot of IV beta-blockers, to add to the lots of PO ones I'd already taken, my heart rate settled down into the 70s. It was gorgeous. I wanted to take a picture because that never happens. Sadly when I was walked around with a Mini-Me, it immediately went up to the 130s, and then after a little farther it obliged with full-on SVT. That bought me a ticket to admission, which I politely declined. I got another liter of fluid and went home, where I slept for 12 hours and now feel in somewhat better repair.
My ablation is in 2 weeks, and I alternate between fear and "come on already." I had no idea how debilitating this stuff can be. It's not the few seconds of the arrhythmia. It's the aftermath. I see patients convert and jump up and walk out like nothing happened to them, but it isn't like that with me. I feel like I've been hit like a truck after running a marathon (both hypothetical). And this feeling is supposed to improve with beta-blockers, which make me feel ridiculously exhausted to begin with. Ugh.
I'm so so hoping they map out this deranged extra pathway easily and freeze that sucker so I this NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN. Fingers crossed.