A Catalyst

The monitor

Two weeks ago (July 11, 2022) Deb and I were staying at a friend’s vacation house near Fredericksburg, Virginia. We had a wonderful week planned that included a few days alone at our friend’s house, followed by a trip to Charlotte, NC to visit Deb’s sister and my cousin. That Wednesday was my birthday and we were going to meet up with both families in Charlotte for dinner and then catch one of my favorite blues guitarists: Damon Fowler. The next day my cousin Scott was going to give me a beautiful 4-string bass that he made from raw lumber. He’s an amazing woodworker and we’ve been talking about this instrument for years. I was pretty freakin’ excited.

As you’ve probably guessed by now, that’s not how the week went down. That Monday morning I woke up feeling a little off. I climbed out of bed and felt as if I were totally hammered. I remember giggling to myself as I was trying to figure out what I drank the night before that would have carried over to the next morning. I stood up and wavered as I walked to the bathroom. I felt lightheaded and I remember giggling again as I braced myself on the door frame. Then I talked out loud to myself, something to the effect of, “what the hell man?” My words sounded slurred so I spoke some more and the confused giggles turned to fear as I thought I was having a stroke. I called upstairs to Deb, “honey - call 911 - I think I’m having a stroke!” I went back to bed as Deb rushed downstairs. The 911 operator talked us through stroke protocols: is my smile even, are my limbs tingling? The answers alleviated my fears because my smile was fine, and the only thing that was off was the drunken feeling and slurred speech. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve woken up feeling drunk from the night before. This was not one of those times.

No longer worried I was having a stroke, I walked up stairs and met the paramedics at the door. They sat me down and did the normal vitals and tests. One of the medics told me I was fine and it was my choice if I wanted to go to the hospital or not. The senior medic, however, did not give me the choice. He told me my pulse was at 42 – normal pulse is between 60-80. He took one look at me and determined I wasn’t a marathon runner so having a pulse that low was dangerous. I’ve learned a lot about the heart these past few weeks.

On the ride to the hospital I felt off, and my speech was slurred. I noticed that we were stopping at red lights and I made a comment to that effect. One of the medics said, “well it’s a good sign that you noticed that.” I really wasn’t too worried. As a side note: I’ve been on a medical journey for the past few years trying to figure out why I get frequent headaches, and why my neck gets so painfully tight. I’ve recently seen a rheumatoid specialist who did a million tests and determined there’s nothing systemically wrong. I’ve also seen an orthopedic doctor who discovered that I have some arthritis in my neck. With the help of a chiropractor I felt I was on the road to recovery on that front. The ride in the ambulance set that problem on its head. The stretcher was in the 45º position and I had no neck support. I started feeling some pain in my neck during the ride, and one of the medics put a piece of foam behind my head for the rest of the 25 minute trip.

At the hospital they did a CT scan, an echocardiogram, blood work, and who knows what else. My body temp was 2 degrees below normal so they put a warming blanket on me. Someone came in and asked me if I had a living will, and if I’ve made end-of-life plans. Then they put pads on my chest just in case they needed to hook me up to shock my heart. They told me I probably needed a pacemaker right away. It’s safe to say I started worrying again. My pulse was crazy low, but my blood pressure was normal. My BP has always been really good and I have no history of heart disease. By Monday night my neck started seizing up, and by Tuesday morning my familiar neck pain was in full, excruciating spasm. So now, even though I was in the hospital for heart issues, all I could think about was the screeching pain in my neck. They didn’t take that seriously until Tuesday night/Wednesday morning. They started giving me muscle relaxers and pain meds – both of which would normally relax my heart. Also, as my pain increased, so did my blood pressure. This was not a good combination.

On Wednesday the cardiologist came in to talk to us. Because my heart rate elevated a little when I stood up, they didn’t think I needed a pacemaker. They wanted to put a monitor on my chest and get some data for a couple of weeks. The cardiologist said I could go home as soon as the general doctor released me. The hospital’s infectious disease doctor ruled out Lyme disease and he gave me the green light. Unfortunately, word did not get to the GP and I ended up in the hospital for another full day. 

Thursday afternoon – hopped up on some serious painkillers – Deb and I made the 2+ hour drive north in DC rush hour traffic. That was a rough ride, but it could have been worse. The following day we saw my GP. She’s been my doctor since I was 17 and she knows me very well. She thinks it’s possible that I may have had a very small stoke (a TIA) which would have caused the slurred speech. I have an MRI scheduled in a few weeks to look into that possibility. Every doctor I’ve talked to wanted to make sure Lyme disease was ruled out. Also, I had my second Pfizer booster shot a few days before the incident. My new, local cardiologist said it was unlikely the vaccine was the cause, but he wouldn’t rule it out. He suggested I switch to the Moderna booster when the new one comes out.

We’re still doing tests because we still don’t know what’s going on. My pulse is still in the 40s. I feel fine but I’m being careful not to push it. I’m writing this 2 weeks to the day after the incident. Last night I was supposed to be performing with some of my favorite musicians for a record release party in Baltimore. This Wednesday I was supposed to be driving to Williamsport to meet up with the Gabe Stillman Band as we begin a 4 week mid-west tour. My first show with them was supposed to be this Friday in Fargo, North Dakota. I’ve had to back out of all of this. The doctors at the hospital, my GP, and my new cardiologist all told me I shouldn’t drive for a few weeks and that I would quite possibly pass out on stage if I went through with the tour. I love being on the road, and I love being with Gabe, Colin, and Ray. Playing big festival stages is my happy place and this decision was really hard. Even with all the doctor’s recommendations I’m still second-guessing myself. 

There’s one thing about having a scary medical moment that’s beautiful: this is a time when you feel all of the love from the people you care about. The calls and texts I’ve gotten from people have meant so much to me. A few of my friends have been checking in with me almost daily. My mother (a former nurse) has been over every day to check my blood pressure and pulse. My kids are wonderful. And I’m married to the most amazing, loving, supportive woman on the planet. Mentally I’ve been a bit all over the place. But I often come back to overarching gratitude and love when I think of the deep connections I have with so many people. I’m a very lucky guy surrounded by beautiful humans.

I’ve decided no matter what we learn about my low heart rate I’m going to turn this event into a catalyst. I’m quitting everything for the rest of the summer, and maybe longer. No alcohol, low sugar, no gluten, no carbs, little sweets. I’ve already lost 12 pounds in the past 2 weeks and I plan to continue that trend. I’m eating a lot of celery and I’m looking into buying a treadmill. Since my music calendar went from 20 shows to zero, this is a chance for me to catch up on many projects for my day-job and projects around the house. I started writing some music again and I have lots of practicing in my future. I’ve been saying for years that I wanted my 50s to be my best decade, and I’m working hard to get that back on track. Thanks to all who have reached out. My pulse may be slow, but my heart is full.