I got fitted for a bra tonight.

Of course it was special, unisex bra, with an electronic control unit, batteries and electrodes. It sounds way kinkier than it really was.

You may remember that I posted earlier about a heart rhythm problem, an echocardiogram and a heart catheterization. Today I saw the cardiologist who did the heart catheterization, and he ordered a wearable defibrillator for me. Tonight at about 8, after Leah and I had finished our dinner but were still cleaning up, there was what might have been a timid knock at the door and the dog alarms went off. I didn’t think anyone was really at the door, so I opened it to show the dogs that no one was there. Only someone was there. It was a nurse who moonlights fitting wearable defibrillators.

When I told the nurse that I was surprised that she had shown up the same day as my appointment, she said that if I had been an in-patient, they would not have released me without this device. The doctor said he knows at least one patient whose life was saved by one.

The doctor had called it a vest, and then said it was really more like a bra. And it was. It looked a lot like a bra, but one designed for either a secret agent or a cyborg. It has three rectangular, metallic pads that fit into pockets on the back. These apparently are the shock pads. It has four round pads that fit onto the front. These apparently are the sensors. It also has a bulky control unit that I guess hangs from a shoulder strap. All of these components are wired to the control unit. When the control unit senses a dangerous fibrillation, it sends a signal to the pads, which produce a shock, thereby, one hopes, causing the heart to resume a more regular rhythm.

The doctor said, and she repeated, that this defibrillator is supposed to be worn 24 hours a day, taken off only to change the battery once a day and when I take a shower.

The doctor said that some types of exertion might fool the control unit, so it gives a warning before it shocks. He said that if I’m conscious and feel OK, I’ll have a chance to cancel the shock.

The control unit looks way too big for a piece of modern electronic equipment. I was trying to think of some common object that’s about the same size, but I can’t. It’s a lot bigger than, for example, an iPhone; maybe it’s about the size of four iPhones. It would benefit from a little engineering by a company like Apple.

I like to think of myself as a rational person, and I suppose I am fairly stoic about unpleasant necessities. There are a lot of things that happen that simply cannot be changed, so there’s no practical reason to worry or complain about them.

But I have to admit that this is kind of getting to me. When my father used to complain about all the pills he had to take, I would tell him he should consider himself lucky that all that medication is available today. The doctor told me that if he were in my condition, he would wear one of these defibrillators. And now I understand why my father didn’t want to hear what I told him. I didn’t really want to hear the doctor say he would wear one when it’s not even a remote possibility that he will have to.

I don’t want to wear the damned thing. It’s going to be like wearing a fishing vest and carrying a pair of binoculars around all day long, and then sleeping with them. I think it’s also at least partly coming face-to-face with my own mortality. No one has ever told me before that I need to have some kind of medical intervention because of the imminent possibility of death. It’s too sudden, and too different, and too unexpected. Heart disease has always seemed like a problem that old people, and especially other, people have. I’m not an old guy, and I used to be a runner. Doesn’t that count for anything?

I’ve also always had the understanding that I was going to be the first person not to have to die.

And then after all this, the control unit was defective. I have to wait till Thursday to get a replacement.