Hospital Experience #5: How Did Nurse Dreadful Perceive Me?

This post is the fifth in a series of posts about my recent experience at Ochsner Hospital, where I had a cardiac catheter ablation procedure to correct a heart arrhythmia. This post is a follow-up to "Hospital Experience #4: Nurse Dreadful," and it would probably be helpful to have read the previous post before reading this one.

In my previous post, I described and reflected on my interaction with a nurse whom I have chosen to call Nurse Dreadful. This name tells you something about how I perceived this nurse! In this post, I will explore how Nurse Dreadful may have perceived me.

First, I will review my perception of Nurse Dreadful. I took an immediate dislike to her: her matter-of-fact manner came across to me as uncaring, and her language in speaking to me communicated disrespect. I did not like Nurse Dreadful at all! I found her, in a word, dreadful.

Now, how did Nurse Dreadful perceive me? Certainly, she would have sensed my dislike. I am sure that I was communicating my negative feelings toward her through my body language, my facial expressions, my tone of voice, and my word choices. I narrowed my eyes at her when she told me that I had to be "naked as a jaybird." I remained stonily silent when she said that she would try to find me two extra pillows in spite of having to take care of eighteen patients that morning. I accusingly said, "This has never happened before," when she was sticking me in an unsuccessful effort to find a vein that would yield blood. I made an insincere and self-serving apology (probably spoken in a petulant tone) when she responded defensively, "Ma'am, I have been doing this for many years," because I feared that she might find a way to retaliate against me later if I irritated her too much.

Nurse Dreadful very likely perceived me as a hostile patient - Patient Dreadful.

I suspect that Nurse Dreadful and I got caught in a spiral of escalating negative feelings and behavior. Her "naked as a jaybird" remark triggered hostility in me. I responded with subtle hostility to her. She responded with irritation about my pillow request to me. I responded with more visible hostility to her. She responded defensively in the vein fiasco to me. I responded with deep yet apology-veiled hostility to her. When laid out like this, our responses to each other seem like moves in a game and make me laugh!

Based on this GAME, then, we came away with very negative impressions of each other. I know that this is true for me, and I am speculating that it may be true for her. We DREADFULIZED each other! I saw her as uncaring, disrespectful, and dreadful. She may well have seen me as uncooperative, hostile, and dreadful. So we have these caricature impressions of each other as Nurse Dreadful and Patient Dreadful (again I am speculating about her impression of me) - all based on a game!

What Nurse Dreadful and I were doing is probably one of the games described in Eric Berne's classic 1965 book about social interactions - Games People Play. The antidote to game interactions is authentic interactions - interactions in which we speak our truth to each other. We can also try to hear the emotional truth behind another's statement and respond to that.

What if I had tried for authentic interactions with Nurse Dreadful? What if I had just ignored the "naked as a jaybird" remark, which was probably spoken innocently and not meant to be disrespectful? What if, to the remark about the eighteen patients, I had replied, "It sounds like it's going to be a really hard and busy day for you. Thank you for trying to find the extra pillows for me"? What if, with the vein-search fiasco, I had said, "Please stop. I'm starting to get upset and irritated. I need a moment to calm down, and then I'd like to try again with someone else if you don't mind. Thank you for trying to get blood from me. I'm sorry my arm is so tense"?

SO - I find the game lens a very helpful lens in this situation. When viewed as a game, the whole interaction between Nurse Dreadful and me makes me laugh!

Laughter breaks the spell of any such game, removes judgment, and motivates change. Hey, look at this silly game I've been playing! I can toss this game aside! I'm ready for something more authentic!

The game lens is a playful way to see what's happening, and it expresses a deep truth. I think I'd like to read Eric Berne's Games People Play again!

Hospital Experience #4: Nurse Dreadful

This is my fourth post about my recent hospital experience - having a cardiac catheter ablation at Ochsner Hospital to correct a heart arrhythmia. My previous three posts are (1) an explanation of the background leading to my hospital experience, (2) a description of the hospital experience itself, and (3) my reflections on my panic in the procedure room.

In my previous post, I mentioned that I could see some very small steps of growth in compassion within myself, particularly toward my doctor and the medical team during the cardiac catheter ablation procedure. This post will show that I still have a long way to go compassion-wise. I am certainly not there with Nurse Dreadful. Nurse Dreadful is the name I will give to the first nurse I encountered at Ochsner Hospital on the morning of the cardiac catheter ablation. I will begin with what happened, and then reflect on the experience.

POST-SCRIPT: I am writing this Post-Script after completing this post. Having just finished writing the post, I am struck by the power of writing to call forth deeper insights. I started this post with no compassion in my heart for Nurse Dreadful. The very process of writing took me from a place of no compassion for her to the beginnings of compassion, as you will see.

WHAT HAPPENED - FROM MY PERSPECTIVE

When I arrived at the Short Stay Cardiac Unit of Ochsner Hospital for the cardiac catheter ablation, I was shown to my hospital room, where I would undergo initial preparation for the procedure. I was instructed to remove all my clothing and put on a hospital gown. I decided to remove my upper clothing, put on the hospital gown, and keep my slacks and underpants on until the nurse actually came in to start doing things, at which point I could quickly slip them off.

After about twenty minutes, Nurse Dreadful appeared. As soon as she spoke, I could tell that I didn't like her. She was very matter-of-fact and stand-offish, and she lacked a kind and caring manner. (Every other nurse I dealt with that day had a kind and caring manner.)

Here's what Nurse Dreadful said: "You'll need to take off everything. You have to be naked as a jaybird."

Here is what I heard: "I don't have to respect you. I can use expressions that remind you of your nakedness in our hospital - such as 'naked as a jaybird.' I don't have to use polite expressions with you, such as 'We're going to start getting you ready for your procedure now. Would you remove the rest of your clothing, please.' "

Later I asked about getting two extra pillows. (It really helps me sleep at night if I have a pillow on either side of me as well as at my head, and at this point, I believed that I would be spending the night. My previous post "Hospital Experience #2: The Experience Itself" explains why I was able to go home on the same day.)

Here's what Nurse Dreadful said: "We have eighteen patients to take care of today. We don't have any extra pillows right now. I might be able to find some later, but I don't know." Merry, a wonderful friend who was accompanying me throughout hospital day, jumped in at this point to explain that my request for pillows wasn't just a whim or preference. Merry said: "She needs the pillows because she has sleep apnea and uses a C-PAP machine at night. The pillows help to keep her in a good position for using the machine. That's why she needs them." [This is indeed the case.] Nurse Dreadful said: "Well, I'll see."

Here is what I heard: "You certainly are a bother to us. It's a burden to have to take care of you on a day when we have seventeen other patients, who are more important than you. And now you make even more work for us with your demand for extra pillows. Well, I'll try to satisfy your demand, you inconsiderate and unimportant person."

Boy, I didn't like Nurse Dreadful! She proceeded to ask me the usual array of hospital questions - very matter-of-fact the whole time. Then she got ready to draw blood from a vein in my arm and to put in an IV port through which sedatives would be administered to me in the procedure room. Another nurse, whom I'll call Nurse Kindness, also came into the room at this point.

Nurse Dreadful wasn't able to find a suitable vein for drawing blood or installing the IV port. She kept sticking different veins, which I didn't like at all. Merry came over to hold my hand while Nurse Dreadful kept sticking me, and Nurse Kindness said encouraging things. Blood just would not come out of my veins. Of course, I was getting more and more tense, which wasn't helping, either. Blood can be drawn more easily from a relaxed arm.

Finally, Nurse Dreadful and I had this interchange, with me being quite irritated.

ME: Haven't you found a vein yet?

NURSE DREADFUL: No. Your veins are jumping.

ME: I am NOT jumping. This has never happened before.

NURSE DREADFUL: Ma'am, I have been doing this for many years.

ME [feeling that I might need to rely on her care later and probably shouldn't get her too irritated]: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest that this is your fault. In fact, I know that it's my fault for not relaxing. I just meant that this hasn't happened to me before. [I figured I had better say something placating so that she wouldn't try to take revenge on me later. Someone like Nurse Dreadful probably has all kinds of ways of making a patient endure discomfort.]

At this, Nurse Dreadful left the room, and Nurse Kindness took over. Well, guess what. Nurse Kindness was able to find a vein for the IV port and to draw blood on her first try.

MY THOUGHTS ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED

I find it very difficult to feel compassion for Nurse Dreadful. Actually, I don't feel compassion for her at all. In fact, I even find myself enjoying a revenge fantasy - what I might have said to her instead of my final placating words. I imagine the conversation with a vengeful final line from me, like this:

ME: Haven't you found a vein yet?

NURSE DREADFUL: No. Your veins are jumping.

ME: I am NOT jumping. This has never happened before.

NURSE DREADFUL: Ma'am, I have been doing this for many years.

ME: And after all those years, you STILL haven't learned how to do this right???!!!

So, you can see a lack of compassion and a depth of hostility on my part toward Nurse Dreadful. I realize that she may normally be a much more pleasant person who was temporarily thrown off-kilter by a bad day. I realize that she may have been dealing with pain or stress or loss in her life that might do me in if it happened to me. I realize that she may be unaware of how negatively her words, spoken with good intentions, are coming across to patients (or at least to me) - like "naked as a jaybird." I realize that she may be unaware of how brusque and uncaring her matter-of-fact manner can seem.

I also realize that Merry saw Nurse Dreadful differently. When I complained to Merry about Nurse Dreadful, which I certainly did as soon as Merry and I were alone in the room again, Merry said, "She certainly wasn't a good match for you," and "She does take a matter-of-fact approach." But Nurse Dreadful didn't strike Merry as quite so "dreadful." I realize that my perspective was colored by my anxiety.

I do think, however, that there is some truth to the way I perceived Nurse Dreadful and that Nurse Dreadful should be made aware of what at least some patients will hear through her choice of words and her manner. When Nurse Dreadful says, "You have to be naked as a jaybird," at least some patients will hear, "I don't have to respect you." When Nurse Dreadful says, "We have eighteen patients to take care of today," at least some patients will hear, "You are a bother." When Nurse Dreadful speaks in a strictly matter-of-fact manner, at least some patients will interpret this as uncaring.

Nurse Dreadful may be a skilled and competent nurse who would be great if she would improve her bedside manner. Or she may be a skilled and competent nurse who does usually communicate kindness and caring - but I just caught her on a bad day.

I wonder - what is Nurse Dreadful like as a person outside of her role as nurse? Who are the important people in her life? Which books and movies does she like? Which activities does she enjoy? Does she go to a church or synagogue or mosque or temple - perhaps sing in the choir, have a meditation practice, volunteer in a soup kitchen? What is she like if you sit down and talk with her over a cup of tea?

How did Nurse Dreadful perceive me? I complained to Merry about her. Did she later complain to someone about the hostile patient (me) that she had to deal with?

Nurse Dreadful and I clashed in the hospital. What was going on at a soul level? What can my encounter with Nurse Dreadful teach me?

I have a feeling that I will explore those final questions in a future post.

Hospital Experience #3: Panic

In my two previous posts, I described (1) the background leading to a recent hospital experience and (2) the hospital experience itself. This post will explore the panic I experienced in the room where my procedure (cardiac catheter ablation to correct a heart arrhythmia) was performed.

First, I will mention that I was amazingly calm (for me) in the weeks and days leading up to hospital day. In fact, I did fairly well until I was taken to the room where the cardiac catheter ablation was to be performed and the medical team began to hook me up to the various monitors.

Before I go any further, I want to mention that my doctor and the members of the medical team were competent, professional, and kind. I sensed that they truly wanted to help me. The problem did not lie in the way I was treated - I was treated in a caring way.

THE FACTS OF WHAT HAPPENED

These are the facts of what happened, as I understand them.

Once in the procedure room, I was initially asked to sit up while patches (to which wires were attached at one end, with the other end attached to the monitors) were applied to my back. At this point, I was fine.

Then I was asked to lie down, and as the doctor or a member of the medical team explained to me what they were doing at each step, the following things were done. These steps are not necessarily in order, and some were being done simultaneously.

• More patches were applied to my abdomen and chest.
• My groin area was shaved.
• My arms were secured at my sides.
• A clear plastic triangle was placed over my nose to administer oxygen and air under pressure. The pressure was to keep my airway open throughout the procedure, as I have sleep apnea and use a C-PAP (Continuous Positive Airway Pressure) machine when I sleep.
• Potassium was administered through my IV, as blood drawn that morning had indicated that my potassium level was a little low. (This was probably because I had fasted the previous day.) The doctor explained that the potassium would cause a burning sensation temporarily and asked if I was ready to receive it, to which I said okay. Indeed, it did produce quite an unpleasant burning sensation.

As these things were being done, I was moving more and more into panic. Perhaps it wasn't technically panic (I can imagine several levels beyond what I experienced), but it was at least extremely high anxiety bordering on panic - or maybe it was technically panic. It began when I had to lie flat, and it was considerably exacerbated when my arms were secured and when the potassium was administered. It was manifested in these ways.

• Jerking whenever someone touched me
• Hyper-ventilating
• Trembling
• Crying out
• Struggling against the arm restraints (which were simply sheets that were wrapped comfortably around my arms and then secured to the bedside and that did allow some movement - please don't imagine tight leather straps or chains!)
• Eventually reaching a state where I felt that I was going to faint, even though I was lying completely flat

This panic did not go on very long. The doctor stopped the administration of potassium through the IV (at least I heard her say, "Okay, stop the potassium"), since I was crying out that it was burning my arm, I was hyperventilating and trembling and jerking, and I said that I felt I was going to faint. It seems to me that the sedative was then administered through the IV. This worked. I could feel myself calming way down and relaxing. This was a nice feeling! I imagine that a calmed patient was nice for the doctor and the medical team as well! For the rest of the time in the procedure room, I was sometimes lightly unconscious and sometimes comfortably and drowsily aware.

MY THOUGHTS ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED

First, I was out of control. It is hard for me to imagine how I could have maintained control of my behavior - stayed calm, breathed deeply, held still. I think I can say that I wasn't capable of such control under the circumstances. It does occur to me that I could have said emphatically, "Stop. Everyone stop touching me. I want to stop." Then I could have explained that I was panicking, that this way of proceeding wasn't working for me, and that we had to proceed differently or give me a sedative first. However, I didn't do that - I really don't think I had the presence of mind at that moment to issue a stop order.

Second, I wasn't completely out of control. It's very clear to me that there are deeper levels of panic that I did not reach. One such level might include hitting the medical personnel, and I don't mean accidentally as I was jerking around but actually hitting them, becoming combative. I absolutely was not at that level of panic. Another such level would include being so lost in panic that panic is all there is - my whole world for those moments would consist solely of panic. I was not there, either - I did have some sense of how I was behaving.

Third, I can see from this experience that I react almost instinctually to certain behaviors of others toward me. I instinctually move to protect myself from people doing things to my abdomen (placing patches, for instance) and from having my arms restrained. I do think that those two things can trigger a self-preservation response in people, whether happening singly or together.

Fourth, I think that the combination of things happening to me was overwhelming.

• I was lying on my back (a vulnerable position) with people hovering over me.
• People were doing things to my abdomen.
• People were doing other things to and around me as well.
• The potassium going into my arm through the IV was burning.
• I couldn't use my arms because they were restrained.
• I began to feel that I would faint, even though I was lying down.
  

Result - panic. People doing things to my abdomen was triggering a self-preservation response, having my arms restrained was triggering a self-preservation response, feeling a burning pain in my arm while unable to move was triggering fear, and feeling that I was going to faint was triggering more fear. When I look at all those individual fear-inducing elements happening at once, I can understand why I would panic.

Fifth, as I think about this, I wonder why on earth I wasn't simply given the sedative before anything was done to me. I do think that this was a judgment error on the part of the doctor, which she did correct as quickly as she could. It does seem to make far more sense to spare any patient the discomfort of these preparatory procedures by administering some sedation - even if the patient isn't panicking. The answer may lie in the real difference between the perspective of the medical personnel and the perspective of the patient.

For medical personnel, this is a routine procedure. Medical personnel routinely apply patches to patients' abdomens, routinely shave patients' pubic hair, and routinely restrain patients' arms during certain medical procedures. For the patient, however, none of this is routine. Patients are not accustomed to having people put things all over their abdomens, may feel embarrassed about being shaved (for me, this was not a problem, especially given everything else that was going on!), and may experience arm restraints as a frightening loss of control. Where medical personnel are having a routine and normal experience, patients are often having a bizarre and alienating experience. I think that doctors and other medical professionals know this intellectually but may not fully grasp it emotionally.

Sixth, I did not effectively communicate the depth of my fear to the medical team. Before the procedure, I described my feelings as "very nervous." I now see that the words "very nervous" were far from strong enough. For any future medical events of this type (and I hope there won't be any!), I plan to say, "I am moving toward a state of panic. I do seriously panic when faced with a medical procedure. I panic as soon as I lie on the table and people begin preparing me by touching me in any way. This means hyperventilating, trembling, jerking, struggling, and crying out. I WILL NEED SEDATION FIRST."

Seventh, I seem to be growing with very small steps in compassion. Rather than judging myself for out-of-control behavior, I can manage to feel compassion for that panic-stricken patient who is me lying on that table in the procedure room. Rather than judging the doctor and the medical team, I can manage to feel compassion for those trying unsuccessfully to help a panicking patient. I don't think that the doctor used the best judgment at first about when to administer the sedative, but I also don't find myself holding anger or resentment toward her or toward the medical team. I find myself able to recognize that they had kindly intentions toward me.

Finally, I thank those who have engaged in deep conversation with me and contributed thoughts that have helped me to see what I have expressed in this post. These include my friends David, Donna Glee, Merry, and Yvonne, and my sister Janet.

Hospital Experience #2: The Experience Described

My previous post described the background leading up to a recent hospital experience. This post will describe the experience itself. Subsequent posts will explore my thoughts and feelings about the experience and what I've learned, so I will try to keep this one more or less factual.

First, I will give an overview of the procedure for which I was in the hospital - cardiac catheter ablation to correct a heart arrhythmia.

The kind of arrhythmia I have is supraventricular tachycardia. This is an abnormally fast heart beat originating in one of the atria, or upper chambers of the heart (as opposed to the ventricles, or lower heart chambers). This kind of arrhythmia is often caused by an extra electrical circuit that has somehow developed in one's heart.

In cardiac catheter ablation, the doctor sends a catheter through a vein in the groin up to the heart and induces tachycardia. This allows the doctor to pinpoint the location of the extra (and problematic) electrical circuit, and then (still using the catheter) to cauterize and de-activate that extra electrical circuit - in most cases, for good. The procedure involves light sedation. After the procedure, it is necessary to lie still without bending at the hip for an additional three to four hours to allow the groin insertion points to heal. One stays overnight in the hospital so that the heart can continue to be monitored, and if all is well, one goes home the next morning.

My case didn't quite turn out like that, but it did turn out in a way that happens sometimes. The doctor sent the catheter through a vein in my groin up to the heart and induced tachycardia. This allowed her to pinpoint the location where the arrhythmia originates. And here is what she noticed: Ah, this arrhythmia originates right at the point where the heart sends out its NORMAL electrical impulse. We CAN'T DE-ACTIVATE that. The doctor then removed the catheter without being able to de-activate the arrhythmia-causing cells, and when I was conscious enough, I was returned to my hospital room. I had to lie still for several hours to allow the groin insertion points to heal, but I did not need the overnight monitoring (because no "zapping" had been done to arrhythmia-causing cells in my heart), and I went home the same afternoon. The doctor has prescribed a low-dose medication to regulate my arrhythmia.

So, in my case, we now know where the arrhythmia originates in my heart, but we cannot de-activate it because of its location. Hence, I still have the arrhythmia. Hence, I need the heartbeat-regulating medication.

Now that I have described cardiac catheter ablation and what happened with mine, I will go on to mention some additional facts.

I had wonderful support from friends and family members.

• Merry drove me to Ochsner Hospital well in advance of my 6 a.m. appointment time, stayed right with me until I was taken for the procedure, kept vigil during the procedure, stayed with me during the lying still recuperation period back in my room, drove me home, and carried my belongings up to my apartment (no heavy lifting for me for a week following the procedure). Merry was VERY calming and comforting to me.
• David was ready to pick me up at Ochsner the following morning and keep an eye on me through my first day and night back home. This turned out not to be necessary as I went home the same day, but I consider it something that David actually did for me even though the actions themselves weren't necessary. David also helped me greatly with many encouraging conversations.
• Ellen and Paul very kindly offered me an extra bedroom in their home for my post-hospital recuperation if needed.
• Donna Glee in North Carolina was wonderful in providing me with encouragement and, as a registered nurse, with very helpful information. Donna Glee also actually offered to come to New Orleans to be with me through the procedure - a very generous offer.
• Yvonne, a pianist living in Colorado, devoted the entire morning of the procedure to me. She played and sang healing music for me at her home throughout the morning of my procedure.
• Family members Janet and Richard have been especially helpful and encouraging. Friends expressed concern, encouragement, love, prayers, and offers of help. David (a different David from the David who was to pick me up from the hospital) came by on his lunch hour to see me. Phoebe, a priest at Trinity Episcopal Church, was ready to come if needed and planned to visit me in the late afternoon if I hadn't gone home the same day.

My stuffed animal Robert Bear accompanied me throughout the hospital stay.

The day before the procedure, I fasted from food and drank lots of water to be well hydrated. Donna Glee had explained to me the importance of being well hydrated.

During my preliminary preparations for the procedure, the nurse had difficulty finding a vein in which to insert the IV port.

In the procedure room, as I was being hooked up to monitoring devices and given the final preparations, I was in a state verging on panic. I will explore this further in a subsequent post.

The first time I tried getting up after the post-procedure lying still period, one of the groin insertion points started bleeding. This was taken care of by applying pressure and keeping me in bed for another hour, after which I was fine.

I took advantage of this hospital experience to prepare with an attorney a will, a living will, a personal statement of wishes regarding life and death issues, and a medical power of attorney document. I have also provided the co-executors of my will, my medical power of attorney person, and my back-up medical power of attorney person with complete (I hope) information they would need if and when they should be called upon to act in those capacities. I feel good about this.

This post has presented some of the facts about my hospital experience. In my next post, I will begin exploring the experience at greater depth.

Hospital Experience #1: The Background

Recently I was in the hospital very briefly. This post and following posts will be about this experience. This post will describe the background leading up to the hospital experience. The next post will describe the hospital experience itself. Subsequent posts will explore my thoughts and feelings about the experience and what I've learned from it.

So, here is the background information, as best as I understand it. During spring break, I experienced my heart beating oddly. For several days, I had felt it beating in my throat. I also felt tired and very slightly light-headed. This wasn't getting better, so I decided to look on the Internet for symptoms of heart attack in women. The first site I consulted opened with this message: If you are reading this to determine whether symptoms you are currently experiencing are those of a heart attack, you really need to get off the Internet and get to a doctor now.

Okay, I thought, maybe I should go to the emergency room. After consulting by telephone with two friends and three family members, I went to the nearby Ochsner-Baptist emergency room. I was found to have very high blood pressure (no surprise, given my sky-high level of anxiety at that point), but an EKG revealed a normal heart rate. I was administered some medication to bring the blood pressure down and, once the blood pressure normalized, I was sent home with a prescription and instructions to follow up with my doctor.

Being somewhat doctor-averse, I hadn't sought out a doctor since returning to New Orleans in May 2009, so I didn't have one to follow up with. I went home and read on the Internet about the medication that the emergency room doctor had prescribed, and I kind of freaked out about the list of side effects (which I like to insist are not "side" effects but DIRECT effects of the drug that are unwanted) and the fact that once you begin this medication it is harmful to stop taking it without a doctor's supervision.

As a result, I decided to do three things:

• Go to the Ochsner Resident Clinic where I could get a same-day appointment to see a resident and a supervising doctor
• Make an appointment with a primary care doctor (also Ochsner-based) who was highly recommended to me by my friend Ninette
• Completely revamp my eating and exercise habits

The resident at the Ochsner Resident Clinic had me wear a heart monitor for twenty-four hours. This revealed an occasional fast heart beat - quite fast - at times when I was not exerting myself. The resident strongly recommended that I see an arrhythmia specialist.

Although I felt that I was starting to get caught in a medical web, I reluctantly agreed. The arrhythmia specialist recommended a cardiac catheter ablation procedure (which I will describe in my next post), and I finally - very reluctantly - agreed to schedule this. All this reluctance comes from being doctor-averse, hospital-averse, and medication-averse.

When I saw my new primary care doctor, she prescribed a blood-pressure-lowering diurectic (apparently I have had untreated high blood pressure for some time, which has caused some changes in my heart) and encouraged the cardiac ablation procedure. Again reluctantly, I agreed to the diuretic and have been taking it.

This primary care doctor also highly approved of my new healthy eating habits (heavy on fresh fruits and fresh or lightly steamed vegetables) and my new exercise regimen, but I could tell she was a little skeptical because she has seen many patients who say that they will eat and exercise properly and will lose weight but fail to follow through. My second appointment with this doctor, however, revealed that I had lost twelve pounds in the month since my first visit to her, and a total of twenty-two pounds in the two months since my visit to the emergency room. My new primary doctor was very pleased - and so was I.

I really needed to lose this weight, and I feel much better as a result. I had been eating FAR too many fatty and sugary foods over the last several years and had not been exercising. When my friends express admiration, wonder, and sometimes friendly envy at my weight loss, I just say, "Well, a cute little visit to the emergency room is an amazing motivator!"

This post has provided background information leading up to my hospital experience for the cardiac catheter ablation to correct the heart arrhythmia. My next post will discuss the hospital experience itself.