‘Are your breasts real?’ the technologist* asked, scanning my questionnaire and not even looking at my chest. ‘All mine,’ I replied and thus began my latest foray into the wonderful world of medicine. Peculiar question, but apparently they need to know your density (and size) for scanning purposes … unless perhaps this was an oddly veiled pickup line. (*A technologist works WITH machines; a technician works ON machines. I just had to ask the difference, you know.)
Then, having been refused caffeine for 24 hours (gasp!) and all food and water since dawn, and driving three and a half hours to Santa Barbara, I was placed in a room to ‘relax’ for 45 minutes -- which was not all that easy because I was cold, thirsty, hungry, and had only one ancient New Yorker magazine to read (and although their jokes are funny, their articles can be really long and boring!) .
After relaxing, I then got an injection of radioactive goop (for the 90-millionth time in two weeks. I bet my pee glows) and laid in a really comfy recliner while this massive v-shaped camera hovered over my chest and hummed, sending 3D pictures of my heart 'at rest' to a friendly Tech who showed me some of his best fishing trophy pictures and talked about catching bugs (aka Pacific lobsters).
Next was the treadmill part of the test, so they wired me up allover my chest and tummy. Now, I’d worn clean gym clothes, lugged my sneakers, socks and a headband, and was all ready for a workout, but they decided that, due to the aforementioned problem in my noggin, they would chemically induce my exertion instead of having me bust loose on the treadmill. Prudent, but disappointing!
As if to show off, I started walking at the prescribed deathmarch pace and chided, ‘When do you pick it up?’ as Jon the Tech leaned in to administer another radioactive dye, and shoot me up with the exertion drug. I continued to chat briefly as the two Techs watched and suddenly, WHOMP! I felt as if someone had thrown a 100-lb sack of goat feed at me. 'We're in!' Jon called out to the recording techs ... meanwhile, I could hardly breathe, my heart was pounding, and that virtual bag of feed was getting heavier by the minute. They continued to collect my data and suddenly I was done …but still feeling as if an elephant was standing on my (very real) chest.
The Doctor came in, a blur of aftershave and Italian Vogue, and I blurted out ‘nice shoes’. They were exceptionally pointy and shiny, and possibly the only shoes of their kind in all of Santa Barbara County. He shook my hand and acknowledged me as ‘Miss Crowfoot of the funky EKG’ and whizzed out with a promise to call me tonight if he saw anything catastrophic. (He has not rung.)
In between all these processes there are lengthy wait periods, as cardiology is a very brisk business! Finally they brought me back to the reclining chair, where my heart ‘under stress’ got filmed, while Jon showed me a big wahoo he’d landed in Cabo, and a world-record halibut that had just been caught in Alaska.
I feel like a character from the Wizard of Oz; with people checking my brain, my heart, and testing my courage … but I’m really thankful for the amazing capabilities of modern medical science, and how lucky we are to live in a time and place where people can shoot you up til you glow in the dark and then take 3D movies of your heart … and for the kindness and compassion of all the nurses and techs and receptionists who tread so lightly on wobbly people like me.
Mostly, I still feel like I’m carrying a sack of feed around, and am exhausted ! So, apologies for this somewhat boring meaningless blog – it is more of an update than anything and, thankfully, proof that I’m home, doing alright, and not in that big white building with the lovely nurses, tonight ….
... and ... just got the call from the Dr., scan was fine, 'got the green light to go sailing today! :-D
thanks for all the prayers and kind words!
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