With a song in my heart...
There is, quite literally this afternoon, a song in my heart. This morning I had a visit with my electrocardiologist to get a checkup for the device they stuck in my chest five years ago when my ticker stopped and I dropped dead. I have a combination defibrillator/pacemaker inside me -- the same make and model, I understand, that VP Dick Cheney has. (And I think "Wow! If this gizmo works on a guy without a heart, it's going to work like gangbusters on me!'')
But I don't like to visit the electrocardiologist's office. The technicians there can push a button on a console and make my heart beat really fast. This is not only uncomfortable and disconcerting, but it raises existential questions about which comes first -- the physiological reaction or the emotion that accompanies it. I don't go to a doctor to get a dose of angst.
This morning, though, after the technician played patty-cake with my heart, she pushed another button, and a few musical notes could be heard coming out of my chest.
"Sometime in the next 12 months, at 7:30 in the morning, you'll hear that inside you," she said. "It's not your smoke alarm. It's your device telling you to get your batteries changed.''
So I guess there's something to be said for music and the savage breast, after all.
But I don't like to visit the electrocardiologist's office. The technicians there can push a button on a console and make my heart beat really fast. This is not only uncomfortable and disconcerting, but it raises existential questions about which comes first -- the physiological reaction or the emotion that accompanies it. I don't go to a doctor to get a dose of angst.
This morning, though, after the technician played patty-cake with my heart, she pushed another button, and a few musical notes could be heard coming out of my chest.
"Sometime in the next 12 months, at 7:30 in the morning, you'll hear that inside you," she said. "It's not your smoke alarm. It's your device telling you to get your batteries changed.''
So I guess there's something to be said for music and the savage breast, after all.
posted by Michael Riley at 1:26 PM
4 Comments:
sounds like downloading Itunes to your Ipod..what tune would you choose? anything, as long as it's not Taps..
Just hope you remember not to hit the snooze button on that thing when the music starts.
do you have to pay royalties whenever that tune is played?
hopefully the tech didn't leave it on mute...
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