Partly personal: one life in the day of the hospital

© 2012 Michael Swickard, Ph.D. - There is no better time to talk about healthcare than when I am at a hospital intake area a couple of hours away from a heart operation. This column started the morning of July 17 at the Arizona Heart Hospital in Phoenix. I will not keep you in suspense; I survived the procedure. Me and my heart are much better. The first thought I had that morning: I am so glad I was born in the 20th century where there are treatments when my heart decides to be a bit funky. There was the regular boring beat, ka-thump, ka-thump and then there was the heart deciding to run away at 200 beats a minutes or do the Samba. The procedure which has been available for several decades is an ablation where two wires are threaded up into the heart and the part of the heart that wants to Samba is fixed so it does not. While doing paperwork, I admired how easily John the concierge at the front desk got people to the correct place as they completed paperwork and made them feel at ease. I had an odd thought: I am used to people being quite scared in my radio studio, knowing they are being heard all over New Mexico when I have no anxiety whatsoever. I caught up with the anxiety index even though I had confidence in the doctor and hospital. Both my local heart doctor and my sister, who used to work in a Lubbock Heart Clinic, urged me to do this procedure in a place that only did heart procedures. My sister said, “Go some place where there is a Conga Line of patients, three before you, three after, all with the same need.” I am glad I did. Read column

Partly personal: one life in the day of the hospital