Shoulda been dead! Keith and scar, behind which is the pacemaker device that allows two chambers of the heart to connect to each other electrically
A week ago I was pretty much packed and ready to go on a short holiday with Ingrid, who had been working too hard in her voluntary positions as Vice-President and Secretary of the Tewantin-Noosa Country Women’s Association and in the demanding role of Secretary of the Noosa Chamber of Commerce. Ingrid had earned a break and naturally I always prefer to be with her wherever she may roam.
Last Wednesday morning, a week before flying to Barcelona, I awoke as stunned as a mullet after a final sleep segment of 4½ hours. This duration was so unusual I immediately reached for my blood pressure monitor which showed I was cruising along at 130/60 with a heart rate a comfortable 68 beats a minute. Nothing wrong there. That the ME/CFS was giving me a bit of stick was not unusual and my cognition was good. So, despite the underlying discomfort, I was feeling buoyant. Some mornings the ME leaves me literally bewildered and speechless.
However, as the day progressed, I did begin to feel quite ill. The ME was still a 3, which I designate as moderate but at a level where I need to scale back activity to avoid the dreaded ‘crash’. In the early afternoon the sick feeling worsened. My heart was palpitating and I was rather dizzy. It was only mid-afternoon - when I began to puff hard walking up stairs that normally don’t test me - that I realised something was not just amiss but badly amiss.