9/20/11
The return to work yesterday was a bust. I was late because I had to pick up paperwork at the doctor’s office. It took them a minute to get it together.
So, then I drove to work. I parked in my usual area, walked up the stairs to my cube. Only problem was, by the time I got to my seat, I was feeling pretty rough. After fixing my tea, I realized I wasn’t going to make it through the day.
I wasn’t having issues with my heart, at least not that I could tell. The problem was breath, or lack thereof. It must have been the stairs. I could not get enough wind in my lungs to feed my body and brain.
After taking my first call, it was evident I couldn’t carry on. I clocked out and headed back to the doctor’s office. They hooked me up with an appointment for the next day and sent me home. I almost went to the hospital. Not being able to breathe is a terrible feeling.
Today, I felt better. Catching my breath was still a trick, but I could move without feeling like going back to bed. My day started with a trip back to ye ol’ cardiologist. He’s a friendly sort. Good of him to fit me into his schedule.
He asked questions, made notes and listened to my heart. He smiled. He wrote more notes. He smiled again.
Well, at least he didn’t grunt at me.
Then he voiced his concern about the breathing issue. I told him I thought it was the medication. He told me he thought it was my heart. Joy. The medication was cut in half and I was told to rest. He left the room.
Remember Michael, that much put-upon technician from the stress test? He entered my room next, carrying a new gizmo intended be my lifeline. It’s an event monitor, which is currently strapped to my hip. He explained that I’m to push the magic button any time I feel onset of symptoms.
I asked if this was to help them find my body when my heart finally seized. He gave me a strange look. The man still has no sense of humor.
I’m not sure if I should be alarmed, but he had a miserable time trying to get the thing to work. It comes with three sets of batteries, each set designed to last ten days. This means I’m to wear if a full month. Good times. Only problem, the batteries were all dead. This does not instill a great deal of confidence.
When he finally got it working and wired me up to it—after I showed him the rash from previous adhesive electrodes and reminded him of how many times I told him I was allergic during the last tests—he tried to get the thing to transmit. Again, it didn’t work. He dragged me through the office to a window where it finally transmitted. So, if I’m to have a heart attack, I can’t be in a brick or stone building. I’ll keep that in mind when I schedule the event.
Then I was sent home. I don’t really feel like the good doctor did much, or that he’s taking any of this very seriously. All I could think of was to tell him, “Hey, this is my life. I’m a human being, not some product you’re working on.” I probably would’ve told him, too, but he had disappeared again. Sigh. Specialists.
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