In late November, I had come home just three days ago from the hospital. I was annoyed. My heart had let me down by going into an abnormal rhythm and I had to interrupt my busy schedule to have an ablation. This is a 4-hour procedure, which requires general anesthesia and a great deal of complicated electrical testing and monitoring. I was not anxious or nervous, just annoyed.
The procedure went well and the staff was courteous and professional, making the experience as pleasant as possible. I went home in one day with positive expectations about my recovery, but things were about to change.
On the evening of the third day, I developed a shaking chill and fever. I went to bed covered in all the blankets my wife could find. Phone calls began to come in from my physician sons with their advice. The obvious concern in this time of pandemic was for COVID 19. That is when the first rumblings of fear began to make their way into my consciousness. Should I go to the hospital, whose emergency room would be filled with patients, some of whom would have COVID? Should I be admitted to a hospital already bulging with more than 100 COVID patients? I was fearful of both scenarios, and getting more so by the minute.
I decided to stay home and went for a COVID test the next day. Thankfully, the results were negative. I feel better, but the fear remains.