Some of you might remember me blathering on about my heart issues last year. I got admitted to hospital with what everyone thought was a heart attack, but wasn't. Turned out to be a bit of tachycardia, brought on by my diabetes. Since I was poked and prodded and had tubes pootled about into my ventricles and whatnot, I've only had tachycardic episodes very rarely. For those who don't know, tachycardia in my case means my heart starts doing something like a rhumba, and I get sweaty and slightly disorientated and detached. When that happens, I have to lay down, elevate my feet, sip water and practice breathing. It's not exactly exciting, but it gets the job done.
Yesterday, I had a tachycardic incident.
Doctors, looking to explain that fact, would point out that I had coffee yesterday. Doctors are killjoys like that of course, but yesterday, I'd have something to counter their idea with, Like about ten hours of normal functioning between drinking the coffee and having the episode. So...nehh!
Now technically, there's another candidate, much closer to the scene of the event - I'd finished my nightly cycling about half an hour before the episode. Overdoing the exercise, sending the heart into apoplexy?
Hmm. Mebbe. But honestly, I'm not buying it. Because there's yet a third potential candidate. I was simply sitting here, on my couch, a bowl of noodles in my hand, watching a TV show that d had taped "just to torture you dear". That's my girl!
It was Raymond Blanc...making a signature tarte tatin. And a strawberry crumble to die for...And suddenly my heart was a-jumpin' and a-pumpin' and I was looking at my feet and remembering how to breathe.
So in terms of who's to blame for last night's tachycardia...I think it was Raymond Blanc...in the kitchen...with the tarte tatin.
J'accuse!...
...which translates, for those who don't speak French, as "Book him, Danno!"
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