My heart (update).

Yes, my heart.
I'm on a modest mission. I've got things to say.
I've been typing today, trying to finish up "Brie Fly," even though I just got out of the hospital last night and am unhealthy and exhausted.
I have an ICD device in my chest. And I guess I'm lucky that I do. It literally saved my life last Friday evening. Literally. I would be dead right now, if it had never been implanted.
I've been in the hospital, out of town, for about 5 days. All alone. I can't begin to tell you the thoughts that have gone through my head. I didn't have a good night's sleep the whole time. Even last night, in my own bed, I lay awake thinking about dying, hoping that I would at least make it through the night. I feel like I have unfinished business that needs wrapping up. And I know, in a way I have never known before, that life is fleeting and your next breath is unpromised. You can go in the blink of an eye.
I re-read one of my favorite books last night, for about the 4th time. "Timequake" by Kurt Vonnegut. I read the whole thing, straight through. I felt it more deeply than I ever have. Kurt says that the purpose of writing is to make someone feel like they are not alone. That someone else shares your thoughts and concerns. He did (does) that for me. I love Kurt.
I had an idea, last night, for a book about a blog someone writes. Someone without long to live. And he has a friend, his one reader, who writes a shadow blog through his comments. In the end, the blogger dies and his friend has the last word via a comment to the last post.
I had a lot of crazy notions running through my head last night.
I'm scared. I'm scared to stand up too fast. I'm scared of being alone. I'm scared of sleeping. I'm scared of eating. Drinking. Loud noises. Bumps in cars. Electrical devices. Crowds...
I'm scared of being scared. (Panic is a killer.)
When I was in the hospital, I just wanted to go home. I worried about my dog and cat. I thought to myself, I don't care if I die, as long as I'm home.
I'm on new medication now that has all kinds of interesting side effects. Like turning my skin gray. And the doctor told me that until my body adjusts to this medication, I can't drive. Maybe for as long as 6 months! You see, I may very well have another episode and kill myself and/or someone else on the highway.
I don't know what the future is going to bring. I have no self confidence left. I'm a broken man.
I have plans for 8 or 10 pictures to paint. I have several of the best songs I have ever written (I think) in my head. When I go, they go.
I feel like I want to visit everything that I hold dear and beautiful. All of the music and film and books and paintings. Everything. One last time, maybe.
There's more to come on this subject. I think I'm going to lie down for a bit.
I feel a hollowness inside. I'm not just speaking metaphorically - it's an actual physical sensation.