It’s 7:20 am, Friday, May 30th. We’re sitting alone in the shadowy grey waiting room of the Cardiac Device Clinic of the Heart Institute in Ottawa. The fluorescent ceiling lamps are turned off.  Apart from an occasional employee entering the Clinic with their neck key, the place is barren and desolate. My annual appointment today to have my pacemaker checked is not scheduled until 8:40 am. We chose to arrive early because parking is notoriously difficult – especially on this occasion because the space where we have traditionally parked is undergoing extensive renovation. Patients have been warned to take precautions.  I felt it was wiser to waste time sitting as we are – that is, here in advance with a nearby parking spot safely secured – than having to compete with regular weekday traffic and to struggle to find parking. We have also formalized our pre-registration and check-in details.

It was 7 years ago – following a succession of overnight collapses – that my heart failure was first diagnosed.  Within days a Biotronik pacemaker was installed at the Halifax hospital in Daytona Beach (where I had already spent the previous month following an initial collapse from my bicycle on the beach – a fortuity which had mistakenly been attributed by the medical staff (who addressed my broken ribs, punctured lung and bruised face) to cycling incompetence or irresponsibility.

My understanding is that the pacemaker is normally good for ten years – depending upon the degree of its usage following installation.  When the need for a pacemaker was reckoned, my Canadian health insurers immediately wanted to fly me home for completion of the surgery in Ontario (at the expense of the government). My American physicians resisted the invitation, explaining that, “His lungs will explode when the plane lands.”  The Canadian insurers were anxious for my return because they had already endured on my behalf medical charges over US$867,000 following my ruinous cascade onto the beach.

I further understand – based upon what I have gleaned from previous similar annual visits to the Cardiac Device Clinic – that my pacemaker has indeed responded on occasion to the need for electronic stimulation. The technician who looked after me today as much as confirmed that observation, adding that of the two ventricle chambers of my heart, the lower one depends upon electronic pacing regularly, while the upper chamber is limited to approximately 32% usage. She also remarked that the pacemaker is likely good for another 6 years during the latter period of which the clinic attendances will increase progressively from every 6 months to every 3 months.  For the time being I am good until next year (June 4, 2026 @ 8:40 am) as far as examinations are concerned.

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It is now 1:30 pm, Friday, May 30th. I am sitting alone at my desk, sipping tea, overlooking the glorious river meandering past the burgeoning verdant fields. I have just recovered from an exceedingly blissful nap (for which was precedent a similarly effervescent tricycle ride about the neighbourhood). The Ecolo Cycle Pronto tricycle performed inimitably!

Following my summary meeting with the nursing staff at the Cardiac Device Clinic, I hobbled on my stick back to the car with my partner at my side.  We drove westward through the city, along the increasingly busy urban highways, first to the car wash in Stittsville then to Tim Horton’s in Almonte for a box of assorted Timbits.

All in all I am feeling extraordinarily flush and peaceful. Today’s brief event at the Cardiac Device Clinic could not have been more settling. It concludes for me what has been a plaguing variety of medical, dental and optometric appointments involving CT-scan, teeth cleaning, eye examination and cancer surgery. There remain other matters such as weekly self-administered Ozempic injections, a COVID booster shot at a local pharmacy, repeat dental cleaning and – more importantly – a timely meeting with Pam, the hearing aid specialist, to investigate the latest technology.

I am especially anxious to approach a review of the hearing devices I have seen advertised on the internet which, instead of wrapping about the ear, are inserted into the frame of the ear. Supporting my gusto for this search is my longstanding belief that technology is a rapidly changing part of life, that there is always something new.  My current hearing device was lately diagnosed as on the edge of its battery capacity. It is now about 6 years old so I have no hesitation in jumping ship for something new.

Parallel to these medical developments is my own adjustment spiritually and intellectually to what of course is nothing more than the inevitable decomposition of aging. It affects everything, not only directly but also indirectly. It it too tedious of me to dwell upon the details other than to say that, as part of the conclusion of today’s event, I am singularly chuffed to continue the limited domaine of my social and capital atmosphere. To be clear, I am in no hurry to vacate the premises. I am overwhelmed by the latitude for search and discovery at hand (though in fairness it involves the broad scope of Canada from east to west). What has lately resonated with me again and again is the adage that life is about the detail of the present moment. Too often I have misdirected myself and contaminated that blunt reality by engaging instead in the pursuit of wishful thinking only. Certainly my present reality demands limitation – but there is endless chance of happiness. And security.  Separating oneself from mercurial political forces, escaping the anxiety of boisterous and bullying behaviour, connecting with one’s environment – all this is part of the serendipity and strength of the moment. This cheery attitude is growing with the corn stalks, the artistic winding rows we say on the fields as we drove home along the Appleton Side Road.