This is the monitor my husband gets to wear for 48 hours. I had been telling friends and relatives he has to wear it for two weeks. That is incorrect. I was duly corrected yesterday after I reacted with shock to the news that he is not supposed to shower while he is hooked up to this contraption. I forget how it came up. I may have been laughing at him, thinking about the discomfort he’ll have to endure, and realizing that it will also be my own; when he realized my error he was the one laughing at me.
But I can still savor the silly look he is sporting with these electrodes and this oversized ’80s-style Walkman thing he is toting around and must wear at all times to monitor his heart rate. Inside the Walkman-thing is an analog tape moving very sloooowly. The best part is that he gets to wear the thing like a fanny pack.