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Several weeks have passed since I've had the ICD inserted. I feel quite a bit stronger - the horrendous fatigue has now switched to a lighter form of fatigue that comes and goes. The arm, shoulder and chest are still quite painful, even after 6 weeks, but I'm told by fellow ICDers that this too shall pass.

What doesn't seem to want to pass is the odd behavior I experienced on our trip to Virginia. Cleared by the Dr. to go by plane - he has a problem with driving the long distance. So off we went. I had my clearance card in hand, it tells people I have an implanted device and can't go through airport security. Waved the magic card at the security folks and they sent me to the back of the line. A super nice security person took me through the patt down process and I was through security fairly quickly.

In order to save my strength, whenever we encountered areas where I would have to walk long distances we rented a wheelchair or a scooter. I have never used either, and I was horrified at people's treatment of me.

Some would walk in front of me, as if they couldn't see me. I got to the point where I wanted to go faster and just run them over. A couple of the scooters had horns, and believe me, I used them. But it was as if I were invisible. Others stared at me, what is wrong with her seemingly poised on their lips. One little boy out of thousands made my day when he went out of his way to smile at me and comment on what a pretty day it was.

Some places had no wheelchairs, others had them, but you had to go to a distant building to get it. Still others had rickety, non-electric wheelchairs for facilities with difficult terrain. My husband had difficulty pushing me along.

I'm not allowed to have a security wand used on me. It may cause the device to reset, stop working or jolt me. Despite this, one place insisted they had to use the device on me. He had me hold my hand over the device - the sensitive place he referred to it as. The sensitive place? I figured if it went off he'd get the scare he deserved.

On the way back, security whispered to me when I showed them the card. She whispered - you have a pacemaker? Now, it really isn't a pacemaker - its an ICD. But, I just said yes instead of going into a lengthy description. They seemed so secretive about it. Perhaps some pacemaker recipients don't want the public to know they have one. I have two scars on my upper chest, both about 3-4 inches long - I'm not ashamed - I'm alive. There it is - I flashed the scars to one inquirer. No secrets here.

I always try to learn from what happens to me. What have I learned so far from my ICD? People are terrified of people who are incapacitated. We have a long way to go on how to treat people who are.

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