I'm seeing hearts everywhere at the moment. We're nearing Mother's Day so yeah, lots of hearts. The only other time I see more of them is on Valentine's Day. That day there's just too many. The entire world is one giant heart.

This heart long symbolizing love; a big red balloon heart = a big emotion...

I look at hearts differently. I suffer from SVT. No need to Google: The brief explanation is that my heart suddenly stops beating then goes into 'tachycardia', meaning it races at between 120-220 beats a minute. I broke that record once, reaching 240 beats (they had to use those paddle things to revert it that time.) The cause is an electrical short-circuit - brought on by periods of stress, lack of potassium, not enough water... even just bending down or any other sudden movement.

For years, I had to keep calling the ambulance - until the day one ambo taught me this technique on the drive to the hospital, (he suffered from SVT himself) so now I can revert it on my own, and do without that whole hospital emergency department nightmare.

This started in my mid-twenties and those of you who have kept up with my Memoir will understand it was a tumultuous time in my life.

So the heart for me is an organ. I can tell you what it feels like to NOT have a heartbeat for a second or two. That very brief period of time I am alive, but conscious of my heart not beating... there is a strange silence - I say strange because we never pay attention to our heart... as an organ. We know it beats, we can sometimes feel these beats pounding after exercise or strenuous activity. But there is this pure emptiness see, this unimaginable inner silence... there are no words to describe those one or two seconds of being alive yet also... dead?

The frequency of these episodes increases as the years pass. So I've been told. From once or twice a year, I have periods now where I might have to deal with it once a month, sometimes a couple of times in a single week. The routine goes like this:

"Boys!" Me yelling at the top of my voice until one of them comes upstairs. In the meantime I lie down flat on the bed, hold my breath and 'bear down' similar to when you're about to give birth and you're told to push? One of the boys stands by as I wait for that moment of wooziness; the second or two without a beat - the small conscious death again - then a few irregular beats till my heart finally settles back into its normal sinus rhythm. I chug on coconut water - always on standby in our house. I nod to whichever son that I am fine. I lie still for a few minutes... then life continues.

I call the boys because there is a very worrying possibility that my heart may not revert, in which case an ambulance will be needed - or worse case, my heart may stop completely during the reversal process.

There are medications - lots thrown at me but I refuse them. Not big on Big Pharma, after watching the devastation caused by all the meds supposedly needed to deal with one or another of my father's ailments; necessitating other meds to counter the side-effects of the previous ones. We have reached an understanding, my heart and I: Keep me going as long as you can and I will put up with these terrifying moments you throw at me from time to time.

The thing is to revert as quickly as possible, because long bouts of tachycardia damage the heart muscle. Even after a few minutes, I come out of it feeling like I've just run a marathon, or been hit by a bus, as I frequently say. My body is exhausted.

What does all this have to do with big red hearts and love?

I had an episode yesterday, after visiting the house of one of our closest friends. See the husband/father suffered a heart-attack the night before and was on life-support for some 24 hours, before the family was told 'he was gone'. He was a good man, loved by everyone, and only two days earlier surrounded by family and friends, he'd celebrated his birthday. Now he is dead.

On the way there, I kept saying to Dylan, "I can't breathe, I can't take a full breath." Usually one of the big pre-cursors to an episode. Then followed hugs and tears, people coming and going paying their respects, my mind on dad left behind with Marcus, because he too had been crying earlier and we'd thought it best to keep him home. Same deal on the way back. I was struggling to take full breaths.

It happened. Funny thing is I didn't call either of the boys. They'd seen and heard too much sadness during the preceding 24 hours see; I didn't want to burden them with worrying about me. So for the first time in a very long time, I dealt with this on my own.

I'm still here, so all's good.

The thing is, every time I 'die' that little bit, it just brings to mind all the things I take for granted, all the things I put off, all the dreams I have on hold, all the impulses I do not act on.

Very recently, I came across an unexpected crossroad. One direction fuelled by emotion, one by need. I chose need over emotion. Yeah, my 'heart' longed for that other decision and my heart 'ached' when I chose to ignore it. My heart - the representation of the deepest of emotions - this symbol scattered everywhere around me had kept insisting I follow it: "Follow your heart..." "Follow your heart!"

To have done so would have been foolhardy at best. Following one's metaphorical heart into unchartered waters, acting on impulse and that message alone - knowing all along this heart is simply an organ, no different really to any other except for it being the most vital one in terms of life - it scared me, it caused yet another flurry of doubt, lack of confidence... another putting off...

Need overruled. The need to spend time with my boys, create some memories - escape the gloom and yeah, replace the cold inside and the cold outside with some sun, some heat...

You know my thoughts about deviations right? Even the smallest one resulting in a different path, an entirely new set of ensuing consequences? This is what I have been dealing with since. Sure, the boys and I had our brief respite; we shared some extraordinary moments, full of laughter, joy, tom-foolery and yes, indelible memories.

Oh but these hearts everywhere around me, these bright red symbols of love, grand emotions... the knowledge that it could have ended differently for me this last episode... I mean what if I'd died 'for real', what if this had been 'my time' and what if this time had run out?

What if I died never knowing where that other direction might have taken me?

My Memoir is full of instances where I let other people/situations guide me, lead me, move me from person to place - sometimes kicking and screaming, other times displaying total submission to being led. Offloading all responsibility to others really...

I faced my cowardice yesterday and it wasn't pretty. I understood how all this following others was really only my own lack of ability to 'follow my heart' and... consequences be damned. This bravery - disbanding the demons of uncertainty and self-doubt and myriad what ifs - still persists in me. Perhaps unknowingly supported by these short-circuits?

Have you faced this? Have you stood on that crossroad and viewing both directions opted for the 'safe' one? Despite this 'heart' screaming otherwise? Have you regretted - like I regret now - or was it the 'right' choice in the end? Could you possibly know whether this was the right choice, not being privy to the consequences that might have ensued? Have you taken huge leaps of faith or stayed on the more trusted path?

Love. It appears out of nowhere and disrupts. It instigates the tussle between emotion and logic, between desire and common sense, between an imagined - even illusionary outcome - and reality. This reality so out of context with the emotions longing to be shared, to be voiced, heard, taken in, explored, oh, the longing, the heart yearning...

But when you have intimate knowledge of this heart as an organ, as the engine driving this body and yes, sending the blood flowing to the brain where thoughts form as a result, you doubt. For you know factually the heart's function. It does not create 'love' and certainly holds no feelings within it. Probably it will kill you one day. I know it will kill me.

It might be next week, it might be ten years from now or if the pact between us remains secure, my heart and I may well live together until we're both exhausted by this living and long for final rest.

I'm not alone in this uncertainty. All of us carry it - like our friend who just died yesterday. Fine one moment, gone the next. Most of us though are not consciously aware of it... we live with the assumption that this organ like every other organ will continue to pump blood and keep us tethered to life. The life always ahead, tomorrow always assumed a certainty, not a probability.

So we put off. So I put off. You - the you I passed on recently - you might see a brief headline one day. Yet you will never know what the outcome might have been the day I chose not to follow 'my heart'.

And you, the rest. Forget the big red balloon symbols and the sentimenal messages confusing you. The heart is an organ. But if 'it' calls you, if he or she calls you, always keep in mind that the road not taken, the leap of faith not attempted... those who called you may one day find you dead, and never ever know the what if...