Six Years, Three Major Episodes, and Another Wake-Up Call

In May of 2020, I almost bought the farm.

Thirty minutes of sustained ventricular tachycardia sent my heart rate completely out of control and landed me in the hospital. That episode ultimately led to the implantation of my ICD (implantable cardioverter-defibrillator), a device I hoped I would never truly need.

I wrote about that experience here:

48 Hours of Hospitals
https://rickkkcir.blogspot.com/2020/05/48-hours-of-hospitals.html

At the time, I believed the ICD was insurance. Something I'd hopefully never have to cash in.

I was wrong.

In October of 2022, my ICD fired seven times in roughly an hour. A week later came another trip to the hospital and another reminder that heart rhythm issues don't care about your plans.

I wrote about those experiences here:

Lucky 7
https://rickkkcir.blogspot.com/2022/10/lucky-7.html

No Jolt This Time Around
https://rickkkcir.blogspot.com/2022/10/no-jolt-this-time-around.html

Fast forward to last week.

Almost six years after this journey began an my ICD was implanted, history decided to revisit me once again.

The Trip Home

Two days before everything unraveled, we had returned from a week in Mexico.

Looking back, I felt "off" at the Cancun airport. Nothing dramatic—just not right. The feeling followed me to DFW, but I pushed through it, gathered myself, and drove everyone home.

The following day was completely normal.

Then Tuesday arrived.

I was outside moving one of my trailers around my tractor and getting ready to hook up the Jeep. While putting the stinger in, I suddenly became lightheaded and felt awful. I climbed into the driver's seat to sit down for a minute.

The next thing I remember was waking up and wondering where I was.

"What just happened?"

Then the answer arrived.

My ICD fired.

Then it fired again.

And again.

I managed to get out of the Jeep and started toward the house to tell Lucy I needed to get to a hospital. Before I got very far, the ICD fired again.

And again.

And again.

I counted six shocks while I was conscious.

Later, I learned there had been another one while I was passed out.

Fortunately, I still had my phone in my pocket. Hitting the horn and yelling wasn't getting anyone's attention, so I called Lucy directly.

Within minutes, fire rescue arrived.

A few minutes later, the ambulance followed.   

Back to the Hospital

My heart rhythm was all over the map.

PVCs.

Signs of AFib.

Episodes of ventricular tachycardia.

By the time we were halfway to the hospital, things had begun settling down and my numbers were moving back toward normal.

I arrived at Hunt County Regional and was placed in Room #2.

Ironically, it was the exact same room where I had landed during the 2022 episode.

The good news was that the electrical storm appeared to be over. No additional shocks. No recurring episodes.

I spent the day under observation before being transferred back to Dallas.

By 11:00 PM, I was in the Texas Medical Center Heart ER.

By 1:00 AM, I was moving upstairs into what would become my home for the next several days.

Searching for Answers

Wednesday brought another heart catheterization.

The goal was simple: make sure there weren't any blockages causing the chaos.

After about an hour in the cath lab—awake the entire time—I received good news.

No significant blockages.

No obvious culprit.

A clean bill of health from a coronary artery standpoint.

The next step was another ablation procedure. Counting the attempt in May of 2020, this is the fourth.

Thursday's schedule was packed, so Friday morning became game time.

Throughout the week, Lucy stayed nearby, first at the Hyatt and then at a Marriott. Moments like these make you appreciate all those hotel points you've accumulated over the years.

Friday morning arrived, and I headed in for the procedure.

The electrophysiology team used newer pulsed-field technology, allowing them to target problematic areas more effectively than some previous approaches. During the procedure, they also discovered scar tissue that hadn't been fully visible on prior imaging and were able to address some of that as well.

By noon, I was up walking.

By 4:00 PM, discharge discussions had started.

Before dark, we were heading home.

Just over four days of complete chaos that I never saw coming.

And hopefully, now, it's behind me.

Lessons Learned

People always ask what lesson comes from experiences like this.

The honest answer?

I'm still working through it.

What I do know is that hydration seems to be a recurring theme.

Looking back over the last six years, nearly every significant episode has followed periods where I wasn't paying enough attention to it. A week in Mexico, warm weather, travel days, airports, long hours, and not enough water—it isn't hard to connect the dots.

The second lesson is one I've known for years but haven't fully acted on.

My weight.

For the last twenty years, living somewhere between 315 and 325 pounds has become normal for me.

But normal isn't the same thing as healthy.

I know where I need to be.

I know how to get there.

I know what to do.

The truth is, I've gotten comfortable.

Maybe even complacent.

This latest episode reminded me that I don't have unlimited opportunities to ignore the things I already know.

So it's time to reverse course.

Time to get serious about my health.

Time to get my weight under control.

Time to stay hydrated.

And time to stop assuming tomorrow will always be available.

Because six years, three major episodes, multiple procedures, and a handful of shocks have taught me one thing:

Life can change in an instant.

When it does, the things you've been putting off suddenly become the things that matter most.