I am broken hearted, and have been since I was born. However, I had no idea of my condition until 4th grade after recess one day. Before you go and stereotype this as a love story gone bad, you’re wrong. It’s something completely different.

As a kid, I had always loved running, my dream was to be a track star. I was the fastest kid in my class every year, and won first place and second place prizes all the time on field day. At that point in time, My house was filled with athletic shorts and tees. My room was filled with soccer balls, baseballs, and tennis shoes.  I liked riding my bike, climbing trees, and running was my life. I was always deemed athletic in school until that one day…

I came in from recess and we were all being little kids and checking each others heart rates to see whose was the fastest. “I think it’s mine!” “No, it’s definitely mine, I ran more than you guys!” “but, I ran faster!” were some of the many things you could hear amongst our petty competition. So, one kid decided we’d all go ask the teacher to feel our heart rates and see whose was really the fastest.

We ran up to Mrs.Mills and demanded she check our heart rates. She smiled and put her head to each of our chests and listened, when she got to mine, her face turned pale and confused.

“Abby, do you feel okay?”
“Yes, I feel fine. Why?” Now I was confused and a little bit worried. Was there something wrong with me?
“Go to the nurse, now.” she ordered and I walked up to the nurses station.

It turns out, I had a heart rate of 301, which is about 4 times the rate it’s supposed to be. It should’ve been around 80, or maybe even high 90’s. I was rushed to the hospital about ten minutes later. I was there informed of a condition I had, Tachycardia. Tachycardia is a disease where your heart rate goes faster than what it is supposed to, often caused by stress or physical activity. I showed no obvious signs of stress, and they wouldn’t look into it since I was ten years old, and not expected to have any stress. So they deemed it physical. I was not allowed to run, play in gym, play sports, ride my bike, or do any sort of exercise that could increase heart rate. This could possibly reverse the effects of the disease.

A year went by and I was still having episodes, but refusing to say anything out of fear to go back to the hospital again. They were not as bad, maybe 180 or lower. But, the heart rate that doctors look for in heart attack patients is 165. I was doing really well at avoiding confrontation about my heart rate until 5th grade. I had my first stress attack from being switched into a different class, after I was finally starting to fit in. My heart rate jumped up to 328 and I was rushed to the hospital, again. There they put the Pulse Oximeter on my pointer and tried to get a pulse. I say tried because it was so fast, the machine couldn’t even pick it up anymore. The nurses all tried to find a hidden pulse, it took them twenty minutes. Once it was found, my heart rate was down to 280. They tried a bunch of baby tricks like, blow through a straw, hold your breath for twenty seconds, and drink lots of fluids. None of these even helped a little bit, so they decided to take bigger measures.
“We are gonna stop your heart.” Dr. Savage said straight to my face.
“WHAT!?” I screamed and held back the tears.
The only thing I could think was am I going to die? NO! No, I can’t let them! Don’t cry! If you cry that’s a weakness and you are not weak!

They pulled out an IV and stuck it in my left arm. I was used to needles by now and didn’t even flinch. Then, I saw this clear liquid flow through the tube and I suddenly started to feel weak. My body felt like it was being crushed, I couldn’t breathe, and somehow I was stuck between feeling nothing and feeling everything.

Everything got blurry, like when you hold back tears or stare into a bright light for too long. Then everything went dark, and I felt like I was under water because the sound started to get more and more muffled until I heard nothing. A couple seconds later, I boomed back to life, with a heart rate of 283. It wasn’t helping like they’d thought.

“Prep her for another dose.”
“What?!” my mom said outrageously with tears in her eyes.
“It’s just to bring it down, she’ll be okay.” one of the nurses said to calm my mom down.

They made me drink some water and gave me a single cracker before they started again. This time the pain increased. My legs felt like the muscles were being torn apart by a ravage beast, and my arms felt like I had done 200 chinups on a rusty bar. I did however, find air much easier than before. But when I took a breath in, my lungs felt like they would explode. Like someone was ripping them out of me, starting from the bottom of my ribcage. My vision blurred until it failed me, my hearing diminished until gone completely. Only a split second later I could see my mom and her tears, and I could hear the monitor beep as my nonexistent heart rate shot back up to 185. It was working ever so slowly. Maybe if they did it one more time it’d be 87! I thought to myself. This was my only sliver of hope left, and I prayed it’d work.

“Doctor? Once more?” The nurse looked at Dr.Savage worriedly
“No, she may not wake up this time…” With that, she left the room

I sat on my hospital bed and decided I hated hospitals, I hated running, and I hated myself for letting my teacher feel my heart rate. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I mean, It had never bothered me before, and they said i’ve probably had it my whole life. Why am I even here?

I was rushed to UK in an ambulance where i’d spend the next 2 days doing tests and trials. At this point, I thought i’d been through everything, and that maybe this would be it. I was put on a medicine called Propranolol, and I was to take it 3 times a day. For a while, it went great. I could go up steps and climb trees and ride a bike. But I knew better than to think for once I was the lucky one.

Two years later, I was scheduled for heart surgery because the medicine stopped working and school had put so much stress on me that it started to bring my heart rate back to 180’s again. I was stressed, who wouldn’t be? But, I wasn’t stressed about my heart surgery. I was stressed because my big brother wouldn’t be able to make it. He lives in Canada with his wife, and he didn’t have the money to come down to the surgery. But, I wouldn’t have to worry too much about it for long. My best friend asked to come to Tennessee with me. When his dad called and said he could go, I cried. The next day, we went over to his house to talk about the trip. We sat in his room playing on our phones and I remember he looked over at me and smiled while shaking his head.

“What?” I asked curious, Staring is rude, I said, just for fun, in my head.

“Nothing.” He said defensively and turned back to his phone

“Yeah huh! What is it?” I said tackling him. He laughed and shook his head. I hated when he just said ‘nothing’ to everything.

“Nothing, you just… I don’t know. You’re just something else.” At first I was confused, but I took it as a compliment nonetheless.

A couple weeks went by and it was almost time for the day that had scared me since I was 12, and now I was 14. We climbed into the car and headed to Tennessee for pre-op. We left at 10:30 a.m and got there at 2:30 p.m.  The whole car ride my friend and I threw things at each other, played games, listened to music, and took naps. It was the fastest car ride I’d ever had. Then we got to the hospital. We went over the surgery. The chances of fatality, the chances of it working, the chances of having to have another surgery, and the procedure itself. I remember when the doctor looked straight at me and said,

“Chances are, you will have to have another surgery after this one.”  and I cried. Seems i’ve been crying a lot lately… I thought to myself and tried to hold back tears, i’ve been holding back since the beginning.
My best friend immediately ran to my side and hugged me as tight as he could and kept telling me i’d be okay. That this would all be over soon. The only thing I could think to do was bury my face in his chest, and then apologize for all the tear stains.

We went to the hotel we were staying in and for a while I sat there in complete silence, scared to speak in fear of crying again. He setup his Xbox and before he even played it, he sat next to me and put his hand on my shoulder.

“Look, Abb, you’ll be okay. Everything will be just fine.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do.” and he went back to his Xbox and left me with my own thoughts.

That night we stayed up talking for hours and at one point went out on the balcony and stared at the stars because, that’s always made me feel safer. We talked about the surgery, our personal fears, our insecurities, past relationships, people we dislike, people that inspired us, how we saw ourselves, our dreams, and just had a deep conversation. At one point I remember laying on his lap as he looked straight ahead and talked.
“I guess, I try every girl I can think of. But, they just don’t feel right. I look and look and I just can’t find her. You know?”

“Maybe you aren’t looking hard enough.” I said trying to help him
“Nah, Dude, I swear I’ve looked everywhere.”

“Maybe you’re looking with your eyes, and not your heart. I bet the girl you’re looking for is right under your nose.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
DANG IT, BILLY! YOU’RE THE MOST OBLIVIOUS PERSON I KNOW!, I thought in frustration.

We talked until I felt sick to my stomach, after reading the time. It was cold outside and I was wet from a shower and barefoot out of laziness. We walked inside and I layed on the couch instead of the bed. He was sitting there with me playing a game. I layed my head on his lap and drifted off to sleep.

We woke up at 6:00 a.m, I looked over to find he had gotten off the couch and moved to the chair. He placed a pillow under my head, and placed Scruffsy in my arms. We all got ready and my nerves were building up, I thought I would explode. We grabbed some snacks and left at 7:00 a.m.

My surgery was scheduled for 8:00 a.m and we wanted to be ready for it. We eventually found the hospital again and walked inside. I was carrying my favorite stuffed animal, Scruffsy, with me as Billy walked beside me. We walked in and thirty minutes later, my name was called for my second pre-op.

I went back there with my mom and Billy (My friend). They measured my height and weight and things like that. The doctor’s came in to meet me and they took my jewelry off. I cried when they tried to take off my bracelet. A couple minutes later I went into surgery. I woke up and the first thing I did was grab Billy’s hand. When he tried to pull it away, I just tightened my grip. He just smiled and joined in the fun of making me do stupid things because I was on anesthesia. I called the PACU Room the Pikachu room, I flapped my arms and said I was a pterodactyl, I made my sister blow up by pushing a button on her forehead, and I shot Billy (So he pretended to fall down dead).

The doctor came in a few minutes later and explained that the type of Tachycardia I had was only found in 1% of teenagers, and that instead of it being on the left side of my heart (The most common place for Tachycardia to be) It was on the right. So they had to adjust how they put the catheters in. Then, I was showered with stuffed animals as gifts. The one Billy bought me, a fox, was named Dinosaur. The next day we left for home, with the hopes that everything would be okay.

The surgery seemed to have worked. Everyone told me to start running again, but I was too scared. I mean I haven’t run in years, I have the athletic skill of an eleven year old. I probably suck at running. Besides, I HATE running. A week went by and I decided i’d at least walk. So I went over to Billy’s house on the 13th to walk the road he lives on. It was probably 9:30 p.m or 10:00 p.m, I couldn’t really tell. It was dark and the sky was full of stars all the same. He looked nervous, and was rubbing the back of his head.

“So, um, Abby.”
“Yeah, what’s up?”
“I have a question for you.”
“Obviously, what is it?”

“I was wondering…” My heart flew with the wings of anticipation. I knew what was coming, I just wanted it to be said, “would you be my girlfriend?” And to that I couldn’t stop smiling.

But, then everything went downhill. The last guy best friend I loved, left me crying in a dumpster. I couldn’t let that happen again. But at the same time, I knew I loved Billy more than I ever did him. But, that just puts my heart at even higher stakes, and it’s been through enough. But, I trust Billy. With the other guy I did have some suspicions. But, they were toward the end, what if Billy does the same?   I sat in the middle of the road and questioned everything I could think of. But, the whole time I was questioning him and crying, he sat next to me and told me everything would be okay,

The next day at school, I met him in the hallway at 3:45-4:00 ish. I had decided i’d give him a shot. My heart needed a little affection after all that anyway.
“Do you have an answer?”
“Yeah, I’ll try.”

Everything was going great. I finally felt that maybe I was free from being the girl with a heart problem or being a walking tragedy or bad luck charm. Yeah, I was called all these things 24/7. Maybe now I could walk down the hall without a single person asking if I could walk all the way to the library by myself, or go upstairs without having a person walk so close behind me. People either treated me like a child, like I couldn’t do anything by myself, or treated me like some kind of failure or mistake. But, again, the one thing I wanted most in the world wouldn’t be achieved.

Around the first of January, my heart started acting up again, I couldn’t even sit up out of bed without it being 160. I missed an entire week of school because I didn’t have the energy to get dressed in the morning. The days I tried to go to school, by the time I was dressed, it was like I wasn’t taking in enough air, when I knew I should’ve been. It was always burning up, in January with no heater, and I was roasting. It was one of my most miserable moments ever.

My mom called the hospital and they said to use the leftover medicine until they could fax more. Now I had an appointment on June 9th with the UK Cardiologists. June 9th came and they said to put me back on the pills full time, that we’d discuss another surgery. I was expecting this to be said, but once it was said, it was finally real.
I stayed on the medicine for a while before it stopped working again. We informed the doctor who did my surgery and he said he recommended the surgery again. Oh no! I really am a broken doll...I won’t ever be fixed will I?

This second surgery Billy would be going as my boyfriend instead of my best friend, and I was kind of excited. July 23rd was the official date, and they were all convinced this would be it, but me.

We went down and this time the ride was longer and boring. I slept most of the way, my head resting on Billy, and occasionally the other way around. When we got there, we stayed in this dump of a hotel and it was right next to the airport. Sleep would be difficult for sure. We went out to eat and relaxed inside for a while. Then I had another anxiety attack. I went to the bathroom because I felt like I was going to cry for some reason. When I got in there, I felt weak, dizzy, shaky, like I couldn’t breathe, and burning up. After a long while, Mom told Billy to check on me. He came in and I was sitting on the edge of the bathtub, just rocking back and forth.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.” I said looking at the ground. He walked over to me and tried to help me up, I could barely stand on my own.

When he finally got me up, my legs gave out and he had to catch me. So he picked me up bridal style and carried me back into the bedroom. He layed me down on my bed and had my mom check my heart rate. If I remember correctly, it was only about 120. I layed in bed most of the time after that, Billy sitting next to me and holding my hand. 

I woke up ready for this. I could feel the excitement in everyone else too. We got dressed and ready for the trip. This time we took a shorter route to the hospital and got there faster. However, this time we had to wait an extra three hours because the patient before me had a malfunction. When they finally got me in, we went over the procedure, met my doctors, and they gave me this medicine that made me really dizzy and happy. Then they rolled me into the room, purposely rolling me into walls to make me laugh. The surgery should last about 3-4 hours, It should much easier than the last.

I woke up and realized it was already dark outside, looking at the time I realized it was about 12:00 p.m-1:00 p.m. I was shocked, what happened. My head hurt and my eyes felt cross-eyed, I was laying completely flat. They all gathered around me and told me about what had happened.

I was put under and they tried to see if the old patch was still causing the problem. They couldn’t get it to act up, so they went over to the AV Node and scraped it as far as they could. That didn’t seem to stop it either, so they went over to the Sinus Node and messed with it. Everything seemed to be going fine after that, so they called my mom and said i’d be out in twenty minutes. Within those twenty minutes the original spot started to act up again, so they had to back there and fix it. So really, I had three different surgeries for the price of one. It took almost twelve hours.

I was to lay flat for six hours straight, I didn’t sit up until 6:30 a.m. When I finally did, my head was heavy and felt bashed in by a very blunt object. My eyes felt like they were crossed but I had several people confirm that they weren’t. My side hurt with every breath I took in, like my lower ribcage had been snapped in half and my lungs themselves were filled with poison gas. I got to eat around 8:00 a.m. I hadn’t eaten for basically a full day. I was so excited, however, I saved some of my food for Billy.

At 12:00 a.m, my sister brought over my clothes, and I got unhooked and re-hooked into a heart monitor. We left, and I layed in bed all day because I couldn’t stand the pain in my sides. I went home a couple days later and I was still a little sore, but I wanted to do things. I wanted to join track again! Billy was in track and seeing how happy it made him, made me remember how great running had always made me felt. I was determined to be fixed, but nothing would be set in stone.

Today, my heart rate is still acting up, they don’t even know what’s wrong anymore. The only solutions we have are, medicine the rest of my life or another surgery. The concern for another surgery is, since they scraped my AV Node as far down as they did, I would have to have a pacemaker for the rest of my life. I think the words that bother me the most are “rest of my life.” because that makes me feel like I really am broken and unfixable. I’m this permanently broken toy, that for some sentimental reason, people keep around. Not that i’m not glad they do, but wouldn’t I be better fixed? Wouldn’t I love more or better with a heart that actually worked? One that did it’s job right? Wouldn’t I have a passion like before, if I had a heart to manifest passion? Would I have said yes immediately if my heart were not broken but instead fixed? Wouldn’t this be a happier story if I wasn’t supposed to be forever broken hearted?  Wouldn’t it?