I’m wearing a variety of electrodes, which are attached to my chest with the help of some ultra-sticky substance that smells like cinnamon potpourri going on the stove. It comes out in whiffs and punches me in the nostrils. I’m not generally a cinnamon-smell fan, even at cinnamon appropriate times like Christmas, and now is no exception.
This little, portable, ECG device I’m wearing is recording all the electrical impulses my heart is sending out. Like that one. And that one. And that one. And especially that one, which is the kind they are looking for, where my heart surges and fills my chest with a feeling of sudden adrenalin. It happens now and then. Sometimes it goes on for an hour or more every few minutes. Sometimes I won’t feel it for days. A few times it’s woken me up from sleeping but that isn’t hard to do so I wasn’t thinking this was a problem. There doesn’t seem to be any rhyme or rhythm to the whole thing. It happens at all different times when I’m doing all different things and because I’ve already cut out caffeine, (8 months ago) smoking, (2 years ago) drugs, (4 years ago) alcohol (4 months ago except red wine every now and again) the doctors aren’t quite sure why it’s happening. But it’s a party in my chest, I’ll tell you.
Tomorrow, I’ll rip a few layers of my skin off at 2:50pm and hand the whole contraption back to the office for them to read. I found out I won a round-trip ticket back the cardiologist for an Echocardiogram on Tuesday of next week. And if I’m really lucky and pass that test, I get to do an exercise-heart-stress test. And if I pass that test, then I get to exercise again. Yes, that is the prize. And I hope, wish, and pray that it comes true. First it was my lung and now it is my heart and it’s been so LOOOOOOONG since I got to raise my heart rate that it’s ridiculous. I mean, I love Tai Chi and swimming but it would be nice to do something else, like sweat.
On a funner note, the other day I was at the lab for 3 hours for an insulin-resistance test. That wasn’t the fun part. And either was getting my blood drawn 4 times on the same arm during those 3 hours. Or drinking the fake-orange flavored ‘soda’ they gave me that smells like the orange gas you got at the dentist office way back when, although that was fun. Or the being nauseated and throwing up everything I ate for the rest of the day. No. The fun part was that the woman that drew my blood those 4 times had chronic hiccups.
Her: -Hic- Hi. How are you -Hic- this morning?
Me: Fine, thanks.
Her: You’re fasting -Hic- right? ’xcuse me.
Me: No problem. Yes. I am fasting.
Her: Good. Try to ignore the hiccupping. It’s chronic.
Me: Chronic?
Her: Yes. Documented and everything. It comes in spurts of -Hic- threes. Damn.
Me: Oh. Ok.
Her: -Hic- It’s a serious problem. -Hic- I just live with it.
Me: Well, I guess you don’t really have any choice, right?
Her: Exactly! If I did, don’t they think I would choose to stop doing it?
I don’t know who the ‘they’ are, but apparently, they had suggested that she was doing it on purpose. Anyway, it was entertaining and kept my mind occupied for hours as I thought about what that would be like, what people would say and how I would feel.
Me: -Hic-
They: Why are you doing that?
Me: -Hic- It’s chronic. I can’t help it! -Hic-
They: Ya right! You are totally doing that on purpose.
Me: Step back, dude! -Hic- WTF? -Hic-
They: If you really wanted to, you would stop. Have you tried holding your breath?
Me: -Hic- (in anger) -Hic!--Hic!- Of course.
They: What about drinking water upside down?
Me: Dude! -Hic- I’m not a novice! -Hic- I’ve tried everything! -Hic--Hic--Hic-
They: Then we will just choose to laugh at you and make fun of you.
I decided I was glad I didn’t have chronic hiccups. People die from having hiccups or hiccups related problems.
*cinnamon whiff*
Life could be worse.