I know many people with medical problems who do not wish to speak of them too freely, but being the free spirit that I am it's very theraputic. I also think that knowing too little of anything can be dangerous; I wouldn't want ignorance of my condition to be used against me. And there are some things I barely know myself, and it scares me; as you may have gathered, I'm the kind of person who likes to think that they're always in control of their destiny and person. Also, I think it's pretty cool :).
I was born with several problems - dextrocardia, situs inversus and a second degree heart block. Because of the above, I was fitted with an implanted pacemaker at three months, which has been replaced twice - once when I was five and once when I was fourteen.
Dextrocardia is a congenital heart defect in which the heart is situated on the right side of the body - as opposed to normal, which is towards the left. It's a pretty rare defect - about 1 in 12,000 odds. Dextrocardia is commonly associated with other heart problems, but the dextrocardia in itself is most likely a problem if all the other organs are in the right place.
Mine are not.
The state in which all organs are in the 'normal' place is called situs solitus. Unfortunately, I do not have this - I have situs inversus, which means all my major organs are reversed, or in mirror image to the norm. I don't know how far this extends - is my uterus backwards? Is my brain flipped? Is this why I'm left handed and creative? Who knows? The prevalence of situs inversus is about 1 in 10,000, and is quite problematic if it is not with dextrocardia. So in a way, I'm lucky. Weird, but safe.
Or so you might think.
I also have second-degree atrioventricular block, which is a disease of the electrical conduction system of the heart, which means my heartbeat is not altogether reliable, especially when under pressure - i.e. exercise. This improves as I develop but will degenerate further as my body naturally degenerates. Because of this, I have a pacemaker - a small device implanted under my skin which controls and regulates my heartbeat. My reliance on this has fluctuated over the years, but it is gradually getting better, and I now rely on it 5-15% of the time, and mostly when I'm sleeping. As technology improves I hope my operations will be few and far between, but nonetheless they are risky and horrible experiences and it is my greatest sadness that they will continue until I am too weak, too old and not valuable enough to do it anymore.
So what does this mean? Not all that much, in the grand scheme of things, but enough for me to detest my abnormality. I get checked up every now and again, hooked up to a computer where they run a couple of tests. I have an operation every five years or so (but I hope the gap will increase to a decade at least) and people look at me strange once they know. I just find the whole medical side of it humiliating, and the sad thing is is that nobody really has much sympathy for you unless you're properly dying; but let me tell you, there is nothing insignificant about any medical procedure. Once a decade might not sound like much; but then, this is coming from people who will only be in a hospital twice; when they're born, and when they have babies. I hate hospital; I hate how they talk about my operations as if I don't exist. I hate how they don't care about my opinions, and I hate how I have absolutely no say in anything other than whether I want an apple or an orange for lunch. I hate the pain; I hate the awkwardness and the immobility; I hate wondering about the chances of me not waking up; every medical horror story is a thousand times worse when you're someone like me. I hate the tears; I hate the inevitability; I hate not having control. That's what hurts me the most - when you're someone like me, it's hard to accept that you don't have control over something as important as your heart. It's degrading.
In the long run, there's not really much I can't do. I'm not allowed to be a heavy drinker or a huge fan of hard drugs; I'm not allowed to be eligible for the Biggest Loser, either. Apparently it won't impede pregnancy (I am a little skeptical about this - the wires snapped during a growth spurt, and don't tell me there's not gonna be no stretchy business when I get knocked up) or my longevity; but who knows? I'm grateful it's not any worse than it is, but sometimes I wish I had something normal and trivial, like minor asthma or something. As much as I detest it, I've come to terms with it - what else is there to do? But just because I've come to terms with it doesn't mean I don't think I'm eligible for a big whinge like this. It's how I heal, and I would love it if people stopped prattling on about how it could be sooooooooooooo much worse, but why do we do that to ourselves? We are all human; we all hurt. I talk and I write and I think; that is how the intelligent heal. It is fools who shun sympathy, who sweep all their problems under the carpet, pretend all is rosy and scorn those who show scars.
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