I should have had a stress test before now, but I wasn’t emotionally equipped to deal with what I feared the results would show. My family’s history of heart disease had hung ominously over my head for years – the same head I chose to keep buried.
Besides, I thought my arthritic back and knee problems would prevent me from taking a traditional treadmill test, but my cardiologist said I could take a chemical stress test, instead.
I had run out of excuses.
I was hooked up to a machine and the doctor injected a chemical into my arm that simulated the way I would feel if I were running at top speed. My heart raced and I’m pretty sure my head expanded several inches. It was not my favorite feeling but it only lasted a few moments.
To my dismay, test results showed a slight blockage, and an angiogram was recommended. I turned to stone. My father died at 42. His parents and brothers died nearly as young. This was the day I had hoped would never come. Hadn’t I been taking Oat Bran pills, Red Yeast Rice, Krill, Flax Seed, and a zillion other supplements to avoid this?
I asked my cardiologist how many times he had performed this procedure. He said, “Thousands.” I asked how many of those people had lived. He said, “All of them,” then he hesitated and continued,”well, one was old and on his way out anyway.” (Okay…maybe he didn’t say it exactly that way, but that’s what I heard.)
I researched everything I could about angiograms. The more I learned the more frightened I became.
The dreaded day was here. I arrived at the hospital at 10:00 AM and was greeted by an orderly with a razor. I thought a cardiologist was the one doctor I wouldn’t have to remove my underpants for. Next was an arm vein invasion. I was hooked up to a bag of saline solution that hung from a pole on wheels. The saline caused me to pee every ten minutes, so I had to repeatedly drag the whole contraption through the halls to the bathroom.
At 2:15 I was rolled into the operating room. The doctor asked if I wanted to be mostly unconscious or mostly awake. I opted to be in a state of I Don’t Give a Damn.
Next thing I knew a small hole was being drilled into my groin, and the doctor was threading a thin wire with a camera attached to it, through my femoral artery. I was wide awake (so much for honoring my request) and cracking jokes throughout the entire 15 minute procedure. It was painless.
He told me I would feel warm when he shot dye up to my heart. I responded with, “Oooooo…my head feels warm…and my stomach….and even my ——– Ooooooooo!”
After the procedure I remained on my back for 4 hours. This had nothing to do with my heart and everything to do with not wanting me to bleed to death from the poked femoral artery.
Every half hour someone came in and palpated the artery site, making sure it was soft and not hard (engorged). Sometimes a familiar nurse showed up to do this. Other times unfamiliar people did this; orderlies, other patient’s guest’s, maintenance men. I was fair game for every bored person on the floor.
At one point I asked for a bedpan because I felt pressure and needed to pee. The nurse rolled me to one side, slid the hard cold pan under my butt and there it remained for over an hour, until I realized that I was unable to pee lying down. I finally requested that she remove it, and told her it hadn’t been used. She tossed it into the trash anyway, which hurt my feelings.
At around 6:00 I began begging for food. I’d not eaten all day. The nurse brought me a turkey sandwich. I asked if it was fresh or processed. She didn’t know but said it was good. I looked at it and gagged. The meat glistened. I do not eat shiny meat, but I was delighted to see she had also brought a package of Lorna Doones.
Suddenly my blood pressure monitor started making frightening, loud, beeping noises. A nurse rushed in. “Am I dying?” I asked. She assured me I wasn’t. Even worse than dying was the possibility that the Diet Police had caught me eating cookies.
The entire procedure was a piece of cake. That I didn’t need a stent was great, but I wouldn’t have been frightened if I did. It would have been inserted right then and there, without pain.
I wish my father and uncles had had the benefit of modern medicine. They might have lived to enjoy full and productive lives.
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