My doctor wants to burn a hole in my heart.
Technically what he wants to do is ablate (v.tr. 1. Medicine To excise, amputate, or otherwise destroy the biological function of) part of the wall of my right atrium.
He says it won't interfere with my training for the Denver Marathon in September, which kind of sucks because I don't want to train for it and was looking for an excuse. There are some commitments that even heart surgery can't get you out of.
It's all part of a cycle of circumstances - the ablation is supposed to cure my atrial flutter, which makes me fatigue easily and get breathless when it occurs during a run, which makes running no fun and therefore training no fun. In addition I take a beta blocker for the flutter, which keeps my heart rate down, which keeps my endurance down AND keeps my speed down and makes me run like an old man. (I am an old man and I already run like an old man but I would at least like to run faster than Mike Fulop.) The ablation could, if it works as it does 90% of the time should take away the fatigue and breathlessness and the medicine, which should, in turn, allow me to increase my endurance and get back up to a reasonable speed (i.e., faster than Mike Fulop).
That's if I time it right. Seems the surgeon I consulted with is head of the department, is booked solid and is getting married in early August. So he can't do it until mid-August. (yeah no honeymoon. Doctors. Sheesh.). OR I could go with the new kid. She's three years out of med school. Internal medicine, not cardiology. So, experience or expedience, an age old dilemma.
I think training would be more enjoyable and fulfilling if I have the surgery earlier. Considering this will be my last marathon EVER, I should make it enjoyable and even try for a PR. On the other hand, since it will be my last marathon EVER, I could just dog it and just try to finish for a medal and a tech shirt.
I've been living with this for two and a half years now. Lately I've been paying so much attention to the number on my heart rate monitor that I forget to check the number on my BG meter. On Sunday my resting heart rate was 125 as i prepared to start my run. 125! "F*** it," I said and went back inside to wait for it to drop. Never did. 125 or so ALL DAY. But today, no. Today I started under 60 and never went over 135 in 3.1 miles. (i've been up to 220, at old man pace.) Go figure. I hate it.
And I hate having to keep a pill counter on my bureau. It makes me feel older than my slow running pace. I want it to be done, but I'm scared of the rookie doctor.
Well, the experienced guy was a rookie once.