Besides nagging knee soreness going into the race, I did just fine. The heat that morning did get to me because it was hot. Hotter than it had been the previous two years. I've understood that July 2023 was one of the hottest months since 1880. July 1st was definitely a prelude to the rest of the month. I just remember being drenched in sweat after the race, sitting for a bit to rest, and heading home to enjoy the rest of my weekend, leading to a vacation with the family. No harm, no foul, just heat and a 5K for a hot time of year.
Vacation was, well, vacation. It was a much-needed rest from the grind of the summer. I had been in clinicals and research all summer up to this point. So, heading to Wilderness at the Smokies for a few days was a welcome fun time with the family. We had a ball all week, went to Soaky Mountain Waterpark, ate good food, and enjoyed time together. I rode every water slide the place had at the time. They are currently adding some new ones to the indoor waterpark.
The next week was back to the grind, but I also had a conference to attend that Friday with the South Carolina Nursing Education Simulation Alliance (SCNESA). I'm on the board for this organization and had planned on presenting my dissertation research there. So, that week was all about prepping for the conference. I even started getting back into the gym to lift weights that week, as I had hoped to help Leslie take the kids there the rest of the summer. Everything was going according to plan, and everything was upbeat and positive.
Thursday, July 13, 2023. I woke up feeling fine and ready to head out to Hilton Head. Mando even slept with us the night before, and I got greeted by him laying his ever-growing body right on top of my head. I felt like Mando didn't want us to leave. Perhaps some foreshadowing of the day. We ate breakfast at Waffle House and planned lunch at The Salty Dog Cafe once we got to Hilton Head. So, we headed down I-26 towards Columbia and branched off in the direction of Charleston to get to I-95 to move toward Hilton Head.
That's when it happened.
A few miles down the road past Columbia, I started having this odd sensation in my chest. It felt a little like the Premature Ventricular Contractions (PVCs) I would have sometimes. I certainly got those when I was stressed, and traffic in Columbia is definitely something to be stressed about. But this felt different. It felt like the PVCs were never-ending. I began to realize these were not PVCs at all. My heart was racing, and it wouldn't slow down.
I told Leslie it felt like my heart was racing. She asked if I was okay, and I said I wasn't sure. It was beginning to unnerve me as I continued driving down the interstate. I was really concerned about driving. It felt like my heart would race out of my chest, and I was worried that I would become dizzy or lose consciousness. I'm driving down the interstate, going around 70 miles per hour in a truck with other cars flying around me. This situation was bad for me, my family, and the other drivers. So, I told Leslie I had to pull over.
We pulled off the interstate on the side of the road, and I turned off the truck. I carefully got out and made my way around to the other side of the truck near the embankment. The whole time, I was walking, but my heart was still racing. Now that I didn't hear the sounds of the truck, radio, or anyone talking around me, I could hear my heartbeat. It felt and sounded like what I would feel running a 5K. It wasn't slowing down a bit. I tried taking deep breaths. That didn't work. I stood there and wanted to sit down on the side of the road, but I was worried about sitting in the grass and maybe fire ants being nearby. I stood there beside my truck on the side of the road, clutching my chest. All I could think was, Is this where I die today?
I guess that would be a natural thing to wonder about, especially where the heart is concerned. If a major organ is having issues, and you don't know why, you speculate about everything. But then the nurse in me took over and helped to calm my nerves. I began to realize, Jason, you have no pain. There's no numbness or tingling anywhere. You're not short of breath. Your heart is just racing, and that is all. You're not dying, but you do need to figure out what this is right now.
With that thought, I got back in the truck, where Leslie was starting to go to pieces. She was scared and felt powerless as I sat in the passenger seat with Abby moving to the driver's seat. I don't think either of my children really understood what was happening. Leslie wanted to cry as she asked me what to do. I told her I thought I should go to a hospital. Neither of us had any clue where the closest hospital was in that area. We were in between locations from Columbia down to the lower part of the state, so I didn't know where to go. Leslie did the only thing she knew to do: she dialed 9-1-1.
An ambulance arrived within 10 minutes of our location. Once they arrived, I exited the truck and walked up to them. Now, this is a good thing. If you can get out and walk to the paramedics, you're not in as bad shape as you think. My heart was still racing. So, the paramedics helped me into the ambulance and hooked me up to a monitor. The heart rate (HR) read 164 beats per minute (bpm). It also said Atrial Fibrillation (Afib).
I've seen Afib on patients before, but I never expected it on myself. Certainly, it could happen, but my cardiologist said my heart was in great shape a month earlier, and I didn't have to return for 2 years. Obviously, I would be visiting my cardiologist again very soon. The paramedics said Orangeburg Regional Medical Center was the closest hospital to our location. Leslie followed us there as I took the first ambulance ride of my life. However, I was not emergent, so the lights were not turned on. That, too, is a good thing.
Being in the ambulance got me into the emergency room (ER) faster, allowing me to be seen more quickly. My HR wasn't slowing down a bit either once they connected me to the monitor. 179 bpm was what I saw at one point, but it kept bouncing around in the 140s to 160s, like an infant's heart rate. The 179 reading was the highest it went throughout this situation. For a good while, I was alone in the windowless room of the ER. Leslie and the kids were in the waiting area waiting to see when they could possibly come back.
The nurses and provider first drew labs on me to get baseline levels and started giving me Cardizem intravenous (IV) push through a syringe in the IV line. During all of this, I still never felt pain, dizziness, lightheadedness, nausea, numbness, or tingling of any kind. Just a racing heart that had lowered some to the 130s to 150s. They gave me another dose of Cardizem IV push to try to help again, and by this time, my family could join me in the room. We had been there for about an hour, and the provider said they would start a Cardizem drip on me because my heart was not slowing down much. I was still in Afib. So, the nurse started the drip, and in between, they also gave me an Amylodarone bolus. This actually helped get my heart rate to bounce between 99 to 120. I thought for a minute that might right the ship. But then the nurse let me know another thing from my lab work.
I was COVID-19 positive.
All of my other labwork was perfectly normal. Liver enzymes, complete blood count, and basic metabolic profile were all within normal limits. The only things that were off were my HR and COVID. This would mark the second time I had COVID-19 since the pandemic began. Of course, that probably meant my whole family had it too. There wasn't much we could do at this point, being over two hours away from home. All we could do now was deal with what had been presented in front of us.
The provider then came in to talk to me. With my HR still in the 120s-130s, they said they couldn't send me home and would have to admit me for continued observation on the Cardizem drip. My first hospital stay that didn't involve work. I had spent many nights in a hospital working and caring for patients, but never as a patient myself. This was a totally new experience for me. That also depressed me.
I couldn't believe the situation I was in. I had accepted it, but I hated it. I hated myself for it. Somewhere along the way, I had picked up COVID. Because of my report the month before, I felt COVID was the culprit for this Afib issue. I was horribly disappointed in myself because I thought I was doing all I could to prevent getting COVID. I took all the vaccines to that point. I wore masks and supported leaders encouraging masks. I practiced social isolation for many months early in the pandemic and even throughout. Yet, here I was with COVID causing a big issue. But I stayed calm, all I could do, and worked with the staff there to determine how to help.
The staff at Orangeburg Regional Medical Center were exceptional. They did all they could to help me, ease my concerns, and treat me as best they could. I was truly grateful. They eventually moved me to a hospital room where I could settle in for the night. Once I arrived at the unit, they connected a heparin drip to me to help reduce the risk of a clot forming and causing a stroke. When you have Afib, a stroke is more likely. It doesn't mean a stroke will happen, but they must take precautions.
So, eventually, we all settled in for the night. My family had to stay elsewhere because only one person could have stayed, so I sat in the bed alone.
I did talk to my mom on the phone, who was worried sick about me, to the point she wanted to come down there. I told her there was no point in that, as I was stable and hooked to the drip. I wasn't in any immediate danger. But I was depressed. I told my mom how I felt.
I felt like a failure.
My mom told me I was in no way, shape, or form a failure. I needed to stop thinking like that and think about all that I had accomplished. The loving family I have, the career I've got, my faith, all good things. It didn't change the fact I still felt like a failure. I felt like a failure because I let my family down about the trip. I let my colleagues down about the conference. I didn't take care of myself like I should have for years, leading to my sugar issues now. I didn't do enough to protect myself or my family from COVID. Then I started into how I don't do well enough at work, whether it was Clemson, AnMed, or anywhere I've ever been. Everything that had been bothering me the previous months and years came up, whether it was financial, career, or life. Then I brought up how my mom had told me once that a doctor had told her that because of my mother's hormonal imbalance she had when she was younger, I probably should have never been. At that moment, I said to my mom, "Maybe I should have never been. Then I wouldn't be a burden now."
My mom wanted me to stop that! That instant! She talked to me a bit more, but I wasn't hearing it like I should. I was too busy wallowing in my own self-pity. She prayed with me, told me I needed to pray, and asked God to help me. I needed to stop thinking so negatively and look at all my blessings to this point in life. I was going to move beyond this, too. It would just take time. I heard that last thing from my mom. After we got off the phone, I did pray to God.
I asked Jesus to help me. Please, Jesus, slow my heart down and let it be back the way it was again. Please help me with my mindset. Please help me be positive and believe things will get better. Please help me with my feelings of hate, regret, anger, and focusing on so many negative things, many of which were out of my control. Please just help me, Jesus, I just need you. Like my mom said, you're always there and always guiding. I believed my dreams were from Jesus, trying to help me with the sugar concerns that were to come. I believed He wanted me to do more to help others. I believed he had a purpose for me that goes beyond what I can imagine. I just thanked Jesus for being there with me and prayed for a good rest of the night and rest if I could.
Then, on July 14, 2023, at 12:46 AM, the feeling in my chest was gone. Everything felt "normal." I looked up at the monitor and watched it for a few minutes. All it said was HR 62. There was no Afib label on it. The rhythm looked nice, easy, and smooth, or what we call Normal Sinus Rhythm (NSR). My heart had converted.
All I could say was, "Thank you, Jesus."
Tune in next week for 10: Satanic Attacks.
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