In March 2014, I woke up with a heartbeat that was not normal. It would race, return to normal, and then pause. I am a healthy 30-something female, so I knew something was wrong but did not immediately seek medical attention. I told my mother, a nurse, and we discussed what it could be. Maybe potassium deficiency or something like that.
Though I was worried, I tried my best not to show it to my mother, who did seem to be.
We went furniture shopping, and though I was trying to act like I was okay, my body was saying, “No, you're not.” I did not even have enough strength to walk to another nearby furniture store. On our way back, my mother asked me which hospital to take me to if I needed to go to one. So, I told her the closest one.
I was out of breath when we returned to her apartment on the third floor. My mother told me to lie down and get some sleep. I climbed into bed and tried to sleep, but I could not because I could feel my heart racing.
Later that evening, my mother asked me how I felt, and I said the same. She said, “We’re going to the hospital.” We climbed into the car and drove to the nearest hospital.
I walked in and filled out the form. The reason for my visit? “Heart racing.”
After signing in at the ER, I was taken to the back to check my blood pressure and heart rate. They asked if I was having chest pain. No. A headache? No. Feeling faint? A little.
After being there for a while, multiple doctors asked me if I went out and “enjoyed myself.’ Did I go drinking and partying and drugging? Nope. And I was not offended either. Seeing heart problems in young people is expected if they like to live fast so they can die young.
I told my mom where all my money was in case I did not make it. “I have money in my 401k. I have a $10,000 life insurance policy through my job. I have some money in my checking account. I have some money in a Christmas savings account.”
I was admitted to a room in the heart department the following day. I sent my mom away soon after arriving because I wanted to be left alone.
And as soon as she left, I cried.
I called a co-worker, Gee, who was off, and told her I had just been admitted. Since she is a nurse, she began asking me questions I could not answer. So, she called our co-worker, Fee, who quickly rushed to see me.
I had multiple tests and procedures done, numerous labs were drawn, and many nights of being NPO after midnight (no food by mouth after midnight). I was discharged after five days in the hospital with a prescription to control my heart rhythm.
The medication took some time to get used to. At one point, it had me up for over 24 hours. I woke up Friday morning and did not sleep until Saturday evening. But that was the only side effect.
I returned to work about a week later, and most people did not know what had happened. I continue my life, except now taking medication twice daily. And I kept all my doctor’s appointments.
From then on, I decided to live my life to the fullest. I was no longer afraid to try new things, go places, and meet new people.
I visited New Christian Life Church in Boynton Beach, Florida, in September 2014 but did not return until January 2015 because of car trouble. Once I got my car fixed, I would attend Sunday service when I was off work.
I was used to attending church multiple times weekly and wanted to see how the weekly services were. So, I started attending Monday night Bible study and arriving at intercessory prayer every Thursday evening, even though I was not a member. Minister Penn asked me if I was a “friend or a foe.”
I smiled. “Friend,” I answered.
I was doing all of this before I even became a member.
I talked to the Lord and thanked him for all the blessings. I knew that God heard my prayers because He sent me confirmation through other people. I would thank Him for letting me find a church home, especially one with good ground to sow seed into, and that very night, Minister Lindsey asked me if I was a member.
I answered no. They asked me if I wanted to join that night, and I did.
I began changing my eating habits, but it was a prolonged process. I started searching online for suitable foods for the heart (and foods I would eat). So, I started eating more bananas, green beans, walnuts, and heart-healthy cereals. I also started eating more salads, going for dark leafy green lettuce, eating unsalted peanuts, cutting my fast-food intake, and cutting back on red meats like steaks. I even began drinking more water and green tea.
So, I began exercising. I started going to the gym at the apartment complex where I lived, but being in a room on a treadmill was not for me. I needed fresh air. I even tried riding a bike, but it had been so long since I had ridden a bike that I could not keep my balance. So, I started walking once or twice a week for about 30 minutes; then, I increased the number of days I walked and my walking time to at least 45 minutes to an hour.
I began taking the stairs at work, and at first, I would breathe like I had just run a marathon, but then I got to the point where I could go up and down and talk with you.
Then, I started shooting hoops. I started with a goal of twenty per day per week and then increased it by five weekly until I was up to forty hoops.
I even got some toxic people out of my life or limited my time with them.
The weight was slowly coming off, but I could not tell by looking at the scale. But other people did notice the weight loss. “Are you losing weight?” turned into “You have lost a lot of weight.” I was losing fat and building muscle.
It took me a while to realize that the heart is a muscle.
A year later, because I was doing so well, Dr. V., my electrophysiologist, tried to wean me off the medication, but it did not work, and I ended up back in the hospital for another five days. That is when I decided to have the ablation done, but I was also a little afraid and decided to hold off until my vacation later that year.
My fellow intercessory members prayed for me the week before the procedure. I prayed that God would guide the doctor's hands and so forth. Minster Penn prayed the exact words that I had prayed. This was the second time confirmation had been given to me.
I also had the members pray for me at the Monday Night Bible Study the night before the procedure.
My mom and I arrived at the hospital for the ablation at 9:30 a.m. I went to the Admissions department, and they had already sent my paperwork to the Cath lab, so when I got to the Cath lab, they were ready for me. So, I got undressed, gowned, and waited in the prep room. They ask me questions relating to my medical history. They also did a stat pregnancy test. They came back with the results and said that I was not pregnant. So, my mom and I both laughed.
Dr. V and his partner were both there. His partner came in and signed the consent form. He just wanted to see me and wish me well. Dr. V came in and was ready to go since we were ahead of schedule.
Dr. M., the anesthesiologist, came in to talk to me. He told me how long the procedure would take, and he let me know that, even though he would inject me with sedation, I would still be awake if they had to ask me questions. They wheeled me into the room where the procedure would be done. It was cold in there, so they put a lot of warm blankets on me.
Dr. V. came into the sterile room, and they started the procedure. He numbed the site where he would insert the tube, but I felt it, and it was too much pain. I was begging him to stop the procedure. Dr. M. was there and gave me a little sedation, but it was not enough to get me to calm down. I have a low tolerance for pain.
That is why I do not have any children.
So, Dr. M. put a mask on my face and told me to take a deep breath, and I did. The next thing I remember is waking up and being wheeled back into the prep room.
My mom was sitting there, and I asked her what had happened. She said she had just finished speaking with Dr. V., and he told her he had not done the procedure and wanted me to stop taking medicine.
“Why?” I asked. She did not know. I then went back to sleep.
When I awoke later, I asked one of the nurses what had happened, and she repeated the same thing my mom said. Then she told me that I was being discharged at 3 p.m. Another nurse came in, and I asked him the same question, and he said the same thing. I wanted to talk to Dr. V, but he would not return phone calls.
The doctor told me to stop taking medicine, take aspirin as needed, not lift anything over five pounds, and not drive for 72 hours.
They told me to leave the bandage on for at least 24 hours and return to the ER if any blood was leaking from underneath where the doctor had made the incision.
The next day, while I was at home, Dr. V called me personally on his cell phone. And this is what he told me. “I tried to get your heart to stop racing, but it wouldn't. It would just go back to normal.”
I thanked him and hung the phone up.
The next day, while at home, I felt my heart beating fast. I checked my pulse and found it to be at one hundred beats per minute. I started to panic. I called my mom and asked if I should take the medicine because I still had leftovers. She said, “No, but if it keeps happening, call the doctor or go to the ER.”
I told my heart that the heartbeat is to remain at 80 beats per minute in the name of Jesus. Nothing more. Nothing less. When I took medicine to control my heart rhythm, my heart would beat at 60 beats per minute, which is considered low.
I called Dr. V's office and told them what was going on. The doctor wanted me to come in so that he could put a Holter monitor on me.
So, I asked, “Now?”
They answered, “Yes.”
I said, “Okay, I'm on my way.”
When I called, it was 4:30 p.m., and they wanted me to be there before they closed at 5 p.m. So, I dressed and drove there even though I was not supposed to drive for 72 hours.
When I arrived, the assistant put a Holter monitor on me and showed me how to use it: do not touch anything and return in 24 hours. I went home and did as I was told. The next day, when I awoke, I felt fine. My heart rate was in the ’80s. No problems.
I had an anxiety attack.
It was finally hitting me, and my heart was healed.
Since I was not supposed to drive, I did not attend the church's mid-day Bible study. So, around 1 p.m., I got a phone call from Minister Harris, one of the ladies at the church. They were all there, and I wanted to know how I was doing. So, I gave her my testimony. She put me on speakerphone so everyone could hear me.
And after I spoke those words, I heard everyone in the background cheering.
My body was healed.
The following Sunday, I was at church, and when I went before the congregation to become an official member. It was a nerve-racking experience for two reasons. First, I am shy, and I prefer public speaking. And two, I was opening myself and my life to these people.
On December 30th, 2015, I had a doctor’s appointment with Dr. V. When he walked into the room, he asked me if I had lost weight. He then said that my EKG results were beautiful. I told him that I felt terrific. He repeated that I looked like I had lost weight, looked good, and I looked like I had a lot more energy. He then wished me a happy new year.
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