HEARTBEATWhen I found out that my heart had stopped beating my first thought was that I must be mistaken, but after twenty minutes of searching for a pulse I was convinced that there was none to be found.
Then I thought that I must be mad. I thought my senses had to be deranged, that the fault was in my head and not in my heart at all. But then I realized that there was no more rational response to such a situation than to wonder whether I might be mad. The very suspicion was secure proof of my sanity.
After that I was terrified that someone might find out. I knew that I could keep it secret for a while, but not for ever. It wasn’t so much the doctor I was worried about—no, that wasn’t it at all. I supposed that I could easily steer clear of doctors, unless I got knocked down by a bus or
