The presidential election is tomorrow, a day I've been fretting over for months, hoping against hope that I will not be filled with angst over an Obama loss. I worry about the struggle to maintain women's right to health care. I worry about immigration reform or lack of. I worry about potentially drastic funding cuts for education, research and infrastructure. I send small donations to the Obama campaign, to Senate campaigns. I get several dozen emails a days asking for money to stave off the Super PAC big bucks going to Republican candidates.
Tomorrow evening, I am going to an election eve party with good friends, all Yellow Dog Democrats. We can cheer or weep together.
And then the very morning after the election, I am scheduled for a heart ablation procedure. Having this procedure the day after the election bothers me. It does not seem like good scheduling. Isn't one's heart in charge of emotions: heartache, heartbreak, heartbeat, heartless, heartfelt - all things I'll feel if....
However, if Obama wins reelection, my heart will be OK. If Romney squeaks in, I'll feel great angst. Just as I did when George Bush won reelection. Would that angst affect the outcome of the procedure? It can't be good to stir up my heart just before an ablation. I've brooded about this, but I also keep hearing of more and more people I know who've had the procedure and found it easy.
This procedure is intended to eradicate atrial fib incidents. It works 85% of the time. For almost two years, I've been taking a drug that levels out my sometimes irregular heart beats. But I am not liking this drug or actually, what I think are the drug's side effects and drug interaction effects. I hope that after the ablation procedure, I can stop taking one drug and change another.
My occasional irregular heart beats come in the blink of an eyelash. A sudden flutter in my chest, warmth in my head and then I know my heart is beating as if I were playing a piano, pushing the pedals hard on some notes, lightening up on others. Totally irregular beats and nothing to be done about it. Until this Wednesday.
So, knowing the outcome of the election, I'll get in a cab at 5:30 a.m. on Wednesday and take myself to the third floor of the Heart and Vascular Building at Hermann Hospital. Procedure begins around 7:30 a.m. and a friend of mine will be sitting in the waiting room, waiting to hear the outcome so she can call ES, my brother and sister, my girls, friends. She has a long list.
This week looms large. I'll bet Karl Rove has already accounted for every precinct in America and probably knows the election outcome. The rest of us will know late tomorrow night, or not. Will the numbers be so close that recounts become necessary? I'm on edge.