CW for medical. I mean it. I'm gonna get into it. This is an anxiety starter with explicit details, so if you don't want that, last chance to get off.
No?
You sure?
Alright.
So on Monday night, I had a heart attack. Well, okay, I went into "ifib," which is your heart freaking out and working too hard so it never actually pumps enough blood through it. Heart rate skyrockets, blood pressure drops. I thought it was just another Panic Attack, of which I've had plenty throughout the years, usually after falling off the bandwagon and drinking caffeine again.
It was not a panic attack. I never had panic attacks. What I have, is a rare genetic condition called Wolff-Parkinson-White Syndrome. Basically you're born with an extra nerve pathway in your heart and it fucks you up because it's constantly short-circuiting the electricals your heart needs to maintain a steady rhythm. Usually fairly harmless, but can just randomly cause instant death if you're unlucky. Fun, huh?? Well, I learned all this after getting de-fibrillated in the back of an ambulance by a big guy who was entirely too casual about the fact that he just summoned Thor, God of Thunder to punch me in the chest, immediately making me feel better– possibly the weirdest and most confusing sensation of my life.
After arriving at the hospital, they used cameras on wires in arteries to examine my heart, and having determined I did not have any buildup (surprising to me most of all, I know my eating habits and they're not amazing), I just had this condition. So on a Thursday afternoon (I had been in there this long already and had maybe 6 hours of sleep total) they prepped me for surgery and got me in there and a middle-aged Indian gentleman who looked like my middle school gym teacher pulled off a very rare procedure (as it's a very rare condition). The entire time, I was exhausted and terrified and had no idea what was going to happen. But in the end, a very talented and rhetorically forceful older man turned my bum ticker into a fixed watch. I couldn't help but be amazed as I watched, for the first time ever, on the monitor, my heart beat in a normal pattern.
Today, Friday, I was allowed to rest and recover. Kind of. It's actually impossible to get any rest in a hospital because they are constantly poking and prodding and asking you questions and stabbing and jabbing and pulling your hair off with tape and generally doing what you would swear from an objective standpoint must be torture but no it's actually medicine; the difference is clear in that everyone responsible is being incredibly nice. Point is, I finally got home, and the return of familiar comforts made me feel the fear and relief and panic and boredom and existential dread I'd been keeping at bay all at once.
But god am I so grateful to my community. Everyone on my discord was so nice and helpful and supportive to me the whole time. It was a home away from home, as it often is, and I appreciate everybody who sent me well wishes, love and even very fun art!
So, yeah. I have no idea how to end this. Maybe because the moral of the story is that it didn't end. I'm still here. And I'm gonna recover, and become better than ever.
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3 weeks, 2 days ago
23 Aug 2025 01:31 CEST
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