My Pacemaker
Tuesday morning, 6:05 AM, I'm out the kitchen door for a brisk run. Ooh, it's cold. I lean against a neighbor's front porch to stretch my hamstrings, then my Achilles tendons. (Yep, I'm 56 all right.) I can see my breath as I start chugging. The street lights on Dolores are still on, the sidewalks are empty, the only sound the humming of an occasional car of an early bird heading to work. It's quiet, solitary, brisk, a lovely morning for a run.
I could not do this a year ago. I would huff and puff after only a few steps. Couldn't figure it out. Was I out of shape, or just getting old? Then the doctor mentioned "sick sinus syndrome", bradychardia, only 40 heartbeats per minute and declining. "Stop driving before you pass out behind the wheel. I'm serious." I would need a pacemaker. Gulp. "A pacemaker? No way. At my age? I've always been in good shape. You've mistaken me for someone else."
A few days later, I relented. Now I carry a thousand strangers close to my heart.
They include the doctor and his surgery room retinue with their calm, professional swagger, and the array of cheerful nurses who vigiled throughout my 24 hour hospital visit. And computer programmers who created the software for my new medical device, tech writers who explained how it works; business execs, marketers, investors who kept the manufacturing business running; insurance adjusters, and probably a few lawyers, who argued back and forth about whatever. Then there are the legions who fed all these folks, dusted their workspaces, answered the phones, mailed them their paychecks. And their families: husbands, wives, partners, perhaps little boys and girls waiting for them with big grins at home, or elder sons and daughters cramming for exams and finagling for more money.
Some of them know the significance of their work to people like me. For others, it's just a paycheck. No matter, they're all here with me anyway, just under my left collarbone. And this morning, so perfect for a run, I thank them, each and every one, with every beat of my heart.
