“The family members might consider seeing a cardiologist as well as
having genetic testing for cardiac rhythm disorders.”
When I read this sentence on my sister’s autopsy report, I noted it but didn’t think much of it. I was much more preoccupied with other parts of the report and how it made me feel. But then, a few days later, I was confronted with how much that sentence had messed with me.
I went to bed at 10:30pm and could not sleep. Hours crept by. 11:30pm… 12:30am… at 1:30am. I was just angry that I couldn’t sleep. I realized I wasn’t doing myself any favors by getting upset about it, but I couldn’t help it. My heart rate was elevated for the time of day and the fact that I was laying down not moving. Easily 30 beats per minute above my normal conscious resting heart rate.
And then the thought flashed across my mind, “What if your heart’s messed up, too? What if you fall asleep and don’t wake up?” I was instantly more stressed and unable to sleep.
I’ve never been diagnosed with heart problems. I’ve never had anything flagged on screenings for work. I have no reason to believe my heart has any problem at all.
But when you work yourself up into an anxious mess in the middle of the night, it sure feels like you have a heart problem. I’ve never had actual anxiety before, but I imagine I did that night. The world felt oppressive. I was convinced that I was not going to be okay. I wanted to sleep but couldn’t—and was afraid to.
Dr. Google had told me that of people who die of idiopathic cardiac dysrhythmia like my sister, around 50% had no known symptoms or signs… until they died. So it wasn’t a comfort to me to know that no one had found a heart problem. Our bodies are so fragile and chaotic that apparently you can just stop living at a moment’s notice without any warning.
I didn’t find comfort or sleep that night, but I sure as hell slept hard the one after.
Unmoored Sister 