Jenna Ward

Living with SVT

Monday 23rd Mar

For 38 years, my heart lived a secret double life. On the outside, I was just a normal person trying to run, work, and exist. On the inside, my heart was running its own high-intensity chaos marathon. Before I could even get properly winded from running, it would slam into overdrive; pounding so hard I’d have to sit down just to avoid passing out.

 

This kicked off years (and years) of medical testing. I was tested for asthma. I did stress tests, ECGs, echos, basically the full menu. I wore so many Holter monitors they could’ve been considered accessories. And every single time? Nothing. Because I was “young,” I was dismissed again and again. Meanwhile, my heart continued putting on its very dramatic, completely unscheduled performances.

 

Then came December 2023. I was at a community event when I felt that now-familiar kick in my chest. My heart rate skyrocketed, and my vision went black. One of my Search and Rescue teammates checked my vitals and debated with me over calling an ambulance. I was breathing fine, aside from my heart trying to escape my body, so I insisted we wait it out. About 45 minutes later, my heart snapped back to normal like nothing had happened. Except like always, I was exhausted and ready for sleep.

 

I followed up with my doctor and a specialist, and, shocking no one, they found nothing. I was told it was probably anxiety. (It wasn’t. I have GAD. I know what anxiety feels like. This was not that.)

 

From there, things escalated quickly. Episodes went from occasional, to weekly, to daily. Then one day at work, where I share an office with the Fire Chief and firefighters, I had another episode. They watched it happen and immediately called an ambulance when their own testing equipment produced scary numbers.

 

Finally, someone caught it in real time: my heart rate was 285 beats per minute, and it stayed that way for over an hour.

 

That ER visit led me to a cardiologist, who diagnosed me with SVT and referred me to a cardiac electrophysiologist. They confirmed it and scheduled an ablation… in nine months. Which felt like a lifetime considering my heart had clearly decided it was done waiting for anything.

 

And it really was done waiting. The episodes got worse. I blacked out twice. Once while driving, which was as terrifying as it sounds. Then, like a genius, I went on a week-long kayaking trip. On the very first day, I had three SVT episodes. My heart really said, “Oh, we’re outdoors? Let’s make this memorable.” We packed it in and went home.

 

Around that time, I noticed something new, my heart rate was suddenly dropping below 30 bpm and I was so tired that I could barely stay awake. So now I had a heart that either wanted to sprint at 285bpm or… not participate at all. One of my firefighter friends (the same one who had already been through enough of this with me) forced me to call my cardiologist. She even dialed the number.

 

Thank God I listened to her because that call moved my surgery up to just 10 days later.

 

I had the ablation, where they essentially went in and told the misfiring electrical pathways in my heart to knock it off. And for the first time in 38 years… my heart finally listened.

 

Six months later, I was given a clean bill of health. Over a year and a half later I still notice the occasional “kick” in my chest, but I’ve learned those are normal, I’m just hyper aware after everything I’ve experienced. The big thing is: my heart hasn’t gotten stuck in that chaotic rhythm since.

 

After nearly four decades of my heart acting like the main character in an action movie, things are finally calm. And I’m incredibly grateful for my cardiology team, for the research that made this possible, and for the people who pushed me to keep advocating for myself when it would’ve been easier to just accept “you’re fine.” Share