THIS IS THE last day I wear a heart monitor. It’s a tiny thing, but it’s annoying.
I’ve had it on for 30 days. My cardiologist thought it a good idea after I had my mini-stroke adventure early in January. One of the possible causes of a stroke is arrythmia, an irregular heartbeat which impacts blood flow. I was in the hospital for 24 hours and they did not detect any, but since it only takes one or two to trigger a stroke, they wanted to check me out 24/7 for a month.
It is amazing what technology can do. The monitor is small and I tape it to my chest in a special holder. It transmits to smartphone that relays real-time data…somewhere. I need to change the patch every five days or so and charge up the small sensor; and, I need to carry the smartphone with me everywhere I go.
This last month has been, well, blah. I am looking for things to blame. The heart monitor, and the reason for it, will do for starters. After the mini stroke scare, I was told to stay active while wearing the monitor, but not to overdo it. That directive was not much help since one person’s “overdoing” may be another person’s routine. But I have not been exercising anyway near what I usually do.
I have spent more time just sitting around, writing, reading, doing crosswords. If the construction workers rebuilding our apartment courtyard are not too loud, I may nap.
I can’t lay it all on the monitor, though. This butt-ugly winter has not helped. I understand, I think, the hibernation impulse that drives animals into caves and burrows; not to mention our cave folk ancestors. I don’t know how they found warmth before fire.
The cold has been brutal, particularly by Mid-Atlantic standards and the snow which came a couple of weeks ago now is turning gray and ugly. Unlike Vermont where skiing awaited every day, the cold and snow here are worthless.
I dinged my new car coming out of our parking garage. Hit a snow berm, which because of the cold was more like a rock wall. Bah humbug. I don’t plan on doing anything about it until it warms up when that moment will no doubt reach deep into my wallet.
It probably hasn’t helped that Connie is in memory care and Donald Trump is in what’s left of the White House.
But Spring always comes. I keep telling myself that because after 79-plus years on the planet I know it is so. The snow will melt, the construction workers will leave and I will put flowers out on the patio. I may even rediscover energy.
The first step, though, will come tomorrow morning when I wake up, take the monitor off and send it back to the supplier. I don’t know what the results will be. I am not sure I care. But, taking it off lightens the load on the way to Spring and I will take it.
Rich Heiland is a retired journalist and semi-retired consultant, trainer and public speaker. During his journalism career he was a reporter, editor, publisher, college instructor, part of a Pulitzer Prize-winning team and a National Newspaper Association Columnist of the Year honoree. He lives in West Chester, PA and can be reached at [email protected].