The night my heart missed a beat... Sir Roger Moore talking to Marianne Power
The night my heart missed a beat... and very nearly killed me. There I was in the middle of a matinee performance of the broadway run of the comedy The Play What I Wrote, dressed in a frock and a big Marie Antoinette wig when I heard a bang. It was my head hitting the floor. Fortunately the wig had stopped my head from splitting open, but I was dazed. I heard Hamish McColl who was on stage with me ask "Are you all right?" and I said "Of course I'm all right, and what are you doing in my bedroom?" I thought I'd gone to sleep. I sat up to see the audiences mouths were wide open, including my poor wifes. The curtain came down and I was rushed by paramedics to St. Lukes Roosvelt hospital in Manhattan. There a consultant contacted my cardiologist in California who had been treating me for a prolapsed valve in my heart which had not been causing any problems. He told me that I now had a fault with the electrics of my heart, which caused it to skip a beat. This meant that the blood hadn't got up to the brain, so I blacked out. It is called a syncopal attack and is a form of heart arrhythmia. It might have been genetic, but they couldn't say for sure what had caused it and it could re-occur at any time. The consultant told me that I needed a pacemaker immediately to regulate the electrical impulses and make the heart pump regularly. This time he said, had been a warning. Next time, I wouldn't have been so lucky. The operation to put in the pacemaker - under my collarbone - took place at 8 a.m. the next morning, and I left hospital 24 hours later. That night I made a 20 minute speech at a Unicef fundraiser at the Plaza hotel in New York, as planned, and flew back to London a couple of days later. I felt great. Shortly after the pacemaker was fitted, I did a speaking engagement for my daughter's charity "Passage", which helps get homeless people off the street. I was in London and all I had to do was recite the words to a song "The Streets Of London". But when I got on stage it suddenly struck me - "Oh my God, the last time I opened my mouth..." and my knees started going. But I survived. The operation has left me with a little bumpy scar where the pacemaker was but I soon forgot it was there. I don't work out as much as I used to, and instead of going through the electro-magnetic gates at airports I have to have a hand search. Unfortunately they never let the girls do it. But the only real major difference the pacemaker has made is that it means I'm still around. I was very lucky to get such a quick diagnosis, but others are not as fortunate. I want to raise awareness of the condition to help children who have similar attacks but never get the right diagnosis. I know how frightening it can be for an adult, let alone a child, to experience an attack. Suddenly, the heart can stop, the eyes roll back, the area round the lips looks white-blue and they go into a seizure when the heart actually misses a beat, and they temporarily lose consciousness. Children can not always explain what is wrong and parents and doctors can mistake it for temper tantrums. My pacemaker has meant I can continue to live an active life, and I hope the same can be true for the thousands of people suffering with arryhthmias. Thanks to my pacemaker I continue to spend my time between Monaco and Switzerland with my wonderful wife Kristina, and travel the world for UNICEF. My speedy diagnosis and treatment left me neither shaken, nor stirred. The only thing that shakes me now are my stiff knees when I get out of bed in the morning. But I've been lucky. By raising awareness I hope more people will be too.
The night my heart missed a beat... and very nearly killed me. There I was in the middle of a matinee performance of the broadway run of the comedy The Play What I Wrote, dressed in a frock and a big Marie Antoinette wig when I heard a bang. It was my head hitting the floor. Fortunately the wig had stopped my head from splitting open, but I was dazed. I heard Hamish McColl who was on stage with me ask "Are you all right?" and I said "Of course I'm all right, and what are you doing in my bedroom?" I thought I'd gone to sleep. I sat up to see the audiences mouths were wide open, including my poor wifes. The curtain came down and I was rushed by paramedics to St. Lukes Roosvelt hospital in Manhattan. There a consultant contacted my cardiologist in California who had been treating me for a prolapsed valve in my heart which had not been causing any problems. He told me that I now had a fault with the electrics of my heart, which caused it to skip a beat. This meant that the blood hadn't got up to the brain, so I blacked out. It is called a syncopal attack and is a form of heart arrhythmia. It might have been genetic, but they couldn't say for sure what had caused it and it could re-occur at any time. The consultant told me that I needed a pacemaker immediately to regulate the electrical impulses and make the heart pump regularly. This time he said, had been a warning. Next time, I wouldn't have been so lucky. The operation to put in the pacemaker - under my collarbone - took place at 8 a.m. the next morning, and I left hospital 24 hours later. That night I made a 20 minute speech at a Unicef fundraiser at the Plaza hotel in New York, as planned, and flew back to London a couple of days later. I felt great. Shortly after the pacemaker was fitted, I did a speaking engagement for my daughter's charity "Passage", which helps get homeless people off the street. I was in London and all I had to do was recite the words to a song "The Streets Of London". But when I got on stage it suddenly struck me - "Oh my God, the last time I opened my mouth..." and my knees started going. But I survived. The operation has left me with a little bumpy scar where the pacemaker was but I soon forgot it was there. I don't work out as much as I used to, and instead of going through the electro-magnetic gates at airports I have to have a hand search. Unfortunately they never let the girls do it. But the only real major difference the pacemaker has made is that it means I'm still around. I was very lucky to get such a quick diagnosis, but others are not as fortunate. I want to raise awareness of the condition to help children who have similar attacks but never get the right diagnosis. I know how frightening it can be for an adult, let alone a child, to experience an attack. Suddenly, the heart can stop, the eyes roll back, the area round the lips looks white-blue and they go into a seizure when the heart actually misses a beat, and they temporarily lose consciousness. Children can not always explain what is wrong and parents and doctors can mistake it for temper tantrums. My pacemaker has meant I can continue to live an active life, and I hope the same can be true for the thousands of people suffering with arryhthmias. Thanks to my pacemaker I continue to spend my time between Monaco and Switzerland with my wonderful wife Kristina, and travel the world for UNICEF. My speedy diagnosis and treatment left me neither shaken, nor stirred. The only thing that shakes me now are my stiff knees when I get out of bed in the morning. But I've been lucky. By raising awareness I hope more people will be too.