Sudden cardiac arrest.

A month ago these words didn�t mean much to me. If it came up on a quiz show I probably would have guessed that it was the same thing as having a heart attack, but you wouldn�t have wanted me as your "lifeline" on that one.

On January 28, my mother was at her job, waiting for the last half hour of the workday to pass. It had been a typically busy Monday at the VA Primary Care office in Glens Falls where she�s a receptionist. No patients were scheduled to check in. It was time to wrap up things for one day and prepare for the next.

According to co-workers, Mom said out loud that she felt hot and dizzy. She sat down, then slumped over on the desk, unconscious. It happened so quickly she had no clue that her heart stopped beating and no blood was getting to her brain, or anywhere else in her body. Staff members�including a doctor, a P.A. and two nurses�immediately began CPR to keep her going until EMTs from Empire Ambulance arrived with a portable defibrillator unit.

Many of you have been trained in CPR. Most of the rest of us have only seen it simulated on TV medical dramas or filmed for documentaries. I can�t imagine what it must be like to know that another person�s life is in your hands. How much more pressure it is to know that it�s a co-worker that you�re fighting to save.

In less than a half hour after she collapsed, Mom was riding to Glens Falls hospital in an ambulance, aware of where she was and where she was going, but not fully sure what had put her there. Even now, after she�s been told the events of her rescue by various participants, she can�t recall anything about it. From her point of view, it was more like a fainting spell than a near-death experience.

Those who saw her turn blue and watched the defibrillator paddles jolt her body can give you a different perspective.

Although Mom had experienced a mild heart attack in 1993, a cardiac catheterization done the day after her collapse showed that the heart muscle was fine. There was no evidence of an attack and no major blockages to be concerned about.

The cardiologist�s prognosis was that Mom�s heart had gone into arrhythmia, the term used to describe irregular or erratic heartbeats. She�d have to go to Albany Medical Center for another test, called an E/P Study, that would confirm the heart�s susceptibility to further misfires of its electrical system. Then they would determine whether or not to fit her for an ICD, a combination pacemaker/defibrillator that monitors a patient�s heart and can get the system back on track if arrhythmia threatens or a full cardiac arrest strikes.

The transfer to Albany finally took place in the afternoon. While Mom was being chauffeured to Albany Med in another ambulance, I arranged for Dad and I to stay at a motel in Glenmont. I managed to get us lost driving to the hospital and by the time we arrived in Mom�s room she was finishing dinner.

That was the last meal Mom had for almost 24 hours. After they cleared the tray away she was told she�d have to fast before the next test. These things are never definite but the nursing staff seemed to think she�d be done with the procedure by lunch. The doctor�s other cases went longer than expected and it wasn�t until 3:00 p.m. that they finally got her ready for the E/P Study.

In the E/P Study, doctors wanted to see if they could recreate the conditions that led to her cardiac arrest. This involves sending electrodes in to "tickle" the heart�s electrical system into its arrhythmia. While it sounds crazy to purposely stop someone�s heart then zap it back to beating with defibrillator paddles, it�s the best way for doctors to know if an ICD is needed and, if so, what kind to implant.

When Mom came out from the anesthesia, we told her she�d "failed" that test. The doctor said he�d be giving her an ICD the next day.

Based on the caseload for the day, nurses estimated that she�d probably go into surgery by noon. Based on the tardiness of the E/P Study, Dad and I figured this meant we were looking at another mid-afternoon procedure. We slept in a bit Friday morning, grabbed a Danish and some coffee at the continental breakfast in the motel lobby, and made it to the hospital by 9:00.

That�s when we found out that Mom had gone up for the ICD surgery a half hour before, without being able to see us before she left. We felt terrible to have missed her.

Everything went fine but no matter how routine a procedure is for the medical staff, invasive surgery is never fun for the patient. Mom�s left arm was immobilized and quite sore from the manipulation they had to do to get the device (about the size and shape of a pager but a little thinner) in its place under her collarbone. It took a couple days for the pain to fully subside.

There was a follow-up test that had to be done on the ICD before she could be released and they wouldn�t be able to do that until Monday, so Mom and Dad watched the exciting Superbowl triumph by the Patriots from the calm-and-quiet of the cardiac care unit.

The device tested fine the next morning and she was released early in the afternoon, less than one week after the whole ordeal began.

As I write, it�s been three weeks since Mom�s "episode." I now know the full meaning of sudden cardiac arrest. I also know how lucky she was to survive: each year, 250,000 American�s die from this condition. Without 911 emergency response, portable defibrillators, CPR and ICDs, that number would be much higher.

It makes me realize once again how fortunate we are to live in an age of so many medical marvels.