Sleeping in the Hospital?

The condition is well known in younger individuals (which I am not) and among those who have hyperthyroidism (not me), smoke excessively (never), ingest too much caffeine (I stopped drinking coffee 2 years ago) or who take crack cocaine (never). Thus, the doctors of the covery sleeping hospital and I were somewhat puzzled when at 6:30 AM on an early February Saturday morning I went to my computer, experienced lightheadedness for less than 2 seconds and felt a "fluttering" in my chest (I was too stupid to think it was my heart). I stood up, walked around, felt better and sat down again only to have the fluttering recur. The little walk was repeated, the symptoms where no longer noticed, but when they recurred a third time, a voice in my head said "Go the hospital, because this is not normal."

I walked in approximately 7:30 AM and found the ER empty. The usual Friday night crowd of post alcoholic vomiters, members of the well-known street gangs who were bleeding from assorted knife and gunshot wounds (aka the Friday night knife and gun club) and the assorted neighbors who use the ER as their primary care facility all had been cleared out. My reception by the nursing staff was instantaneous, as was the loud cry, "CODE PURPLE," from the nurse who had taken my blood pressure and pulse. An aid instantly appeared with a wheelchair and I asked what all the fuss was about. The nurse, who knew that I was a physician, looked at me as if I was from Mars and commented: “Your pulse is a 180 and the blood pressure is 70/30. And you walked in?”

Within minutes I was in a treatment room surrounded by staff, and EKG pads were placed on my chest and legs. The resident (I could tell by the color of the coat) stated calmly "SVT, get an IV line and adenosine." More minions gathered around me and needles started entering my body. The chief of the ER stood by me and said, "When we shoot the drug, you will have a burning sensation throughout your chest for about a half a minute." They shot the drug, but I felt nothing (I could not help but wonder if this was all a dream), the EKG and pulse rate converted and I felt like a new person. But clearly I was not, because the team insisted that I stay overnight and be tested. I asked for what and they responded "for STUFF" and to get a rest.

"STUFF" meant blood tests, one for cardiac enzymes to determine if there had been cardiac damage (every 4 hours), and another for blood sugar (because I was diabetic), another for general chemistries (this is how hospital makes money), etc, etc, etc The long and the short of the story are quite simple. Although I was in a private room, I got absolutely no rest throughout the night because of the frequent blood draws and, if you can believe in the need to take my temperature and other vital signs at four in the morning. Needless to say, I was delighted to leave at noon the next day, with a sincere desire never to return. I left the hospital thinking, "How is it that no doctor ever asked if I got the rest they said I needed?"

A second episode occurred in June, with pretty much of a replay except that I insisted to return home after the medication had been administered in the ER and before any talk of hospitalization. This time, the talk centered on my meeting a cardiologist and obtaining advice for long term care. I made my appointment for much later in the month amidst an arising level of concern. At this point, fate decided to intervene. A friend called and invited me to dinner at a local club. Within an hour I found myself sitting across from an absolutely beautiful lady cardiologist in the same Department where I had my appointment. As she listened to my story, her eyes grew wider and she said doctor voice: "Come to my office tomorrow, at 12:30 PM; you need surgery and the sooner the better." In due course, I was examined, made more aware of the risks and problems that would have occurred if I do not have the surgery and scheduled for the procedure.

As luck would have it, I was seated at the dinner table of Dr. Alexander Golbin, Editor of the Sleep&Health, exactly two evenings before my scheduled procedure, when I had my third and final episode of SVT. I toyed with an idea of rushing into the hospital but thought better of it when I looked at the caviar and other goodies waiting at the table, thinking that if I do have to go I might as well go with a full stomach.