I’ve been thinking about energy. The thing that brings it to the top of my mind is my heart—actually the neurons that control my heartbeat.
I currently have a heart monitor imbedded in my chest. Before it was implanted, the medical staff told me it’s just this tiny little thing. They showed me the little metal device. “We’ll just slip it under your skin . . .” Hardly prepped me for the sledgehammer to the chest of the needle delivering anesthetic.
So here’s what I’ve been thinking about: While this was tiny as surgery goes, it hurt. If the monitor shows that I need a pacemaker (another tiny little device, they tell me, that required a tiny little surgery) there’s the problem of battery replacement after THAT surgery—and removal of the monitor.
I’ve been reading about static electricity. Twice in the last few months, I’ve read that scientists think they can develop pacemakers that recharge using the static electricity created by the patient’s lungs—just by breathing. That’s what I want, but it’s not yet on the market.
Industrial-scale devices to power whole cities with static energy aren’t either, though I read in the current issue of Discover Magazine that several groups of scientists are working on them. I hope they’re successful.
In the meantime, my health and the world economy depend on research, economics, and a whole range of other forces beyond my control. I’m daunted by the task of making those processes more sustainable.
When I’m overwhelmed, I often turn to other’s wise words. Wendell Berry is one of those wise speakers. He’s not speaking specifically of energy when he says: “The dilemma of private economic responsibility . . . is that we have allowed our suppliers to enlarge our economic boundaries so far that we cannot be responsible for our effects on the world. The only remedy for this that I see is to draw in our economic boundaries. shorten our supply lines, so as to permit us to know literally where we are economically.”And yet, everything we buy, everything we use, exists within those far-flung economic systems—thereby enlarging my dilemma.
Not only am I ignorant of the static-charged battery’s stage of development, I don’t know where and how the actual pacemakers are made. What resources go into their manufacture? What other materials and equipment go into their implantation? Are all those things sustainable? Are there more sustainable alternatives?
I’ve seen unsustainable medical devices that are just plain silly. When it comes to my health, can I identify those devices and procedures and avoid them?
What has happened to you? Did you have a heart attack?
No heart attack, Jennifer, just arrhythmia. Light-headedness, dizziness, the feeling that my muscles aren’t getting enough oxygen to work. My heart’s “perfect” according to my internist. No blockages. Numbers (like cholesterol and blood pressure) are fine. My heart just ain’t got no rhythm.
As a teacher in a writing class, I told the students to draw from life experiences as an option for story ideas. Then I proceeded to explain surgery I had coming up soon and how a battery just under the skin on my chest would send pulses of electricity to my brain via electrodes planted in my brain. I was definitely going to use the experience in a story.
The class consisted of gifted students so I expected some interesting questions. A charming little girl asked if it was deep brain stimulation surgery. Blown away by the question, I stammered a “yes.” She very proudly informed me that her dad invented the battery.
I had passed out slips with a brief biography on it. Fast forward to two weeks later. As I was being wheeled into surgery, I related the classroom experience. A man leaning against a corridor wall said, “That’s my daughter.” He owned up to being the inventor. A nurse verified it.
The surgery itself has been performed over a hundred times here in Nebraska but the battery the girl’s father invented had been inserted only three times before. It’s been working great, by the way. I was told at the hospital that it should last at least nine years. I received a notice later saying that the battery life had been extended to twelve years. Twelve more years of being able to hold a glass of wine without trembling so bad most of the wine ended up out of the glass. Twelve more years of doing what I love most–painting, drawing, and writing stories.
I’m so glad that’s working for you, Johnnye. Is it “fixing” intention tremor?
My case is a lot less invasive, but it would be nice to do yard work without having to stop all the time to let my head clear. It’s like getting up too fast when you’re already standing.