And So It Goes

I am wearing a little electronic box around my neck; it's called an event monitor. There's a plug (white) to the right side of my chest; there's a plug (black) to the left side, under my left breastage. It takes readings of my heart as I go about my daily routine. If it senses anything out of the ordinary, it turns itself on and records what's happening. Likewise, if I sense anything out of the ordinary, I can turn it on and record.

"What's this all about?" you may be asking.

Why, thanks for asking. First of all, everything is fine. I got my first EKG taken, I had my first echocardiogram taken, and I took my first stress test. But why was I at a cardiologist's office at all? Well, while I was in Florida, I would have these little... um... 'episodes' where I would feel as though my heart was pounding out of my chest. It wasn't after running a 4-minute mile, it wasn't after reading a scary book, it wasn't even after a particularly stressful visit with my aunt. No, it would happen when I was sitting and knitting in my dad's living room. Or sitting at the mall working on the computer. Or reading in the bedroom. In other words, not doing anything where heart-pounding would ordinarily be expected.

Once I got back home, I had a couple more of these episodes, but they became fewer and farther between, but I was still having them. I figured they were a manifestation of my stress, along with sleeping like a rock for 8 solid hours (I never sleep like that at home), and eating whatever bad food was on the menu (okay, maybe I do that at home). But, DH loves me so, and guilted me into going to the doctor. My GP checked me out, didn't find anything odd, but referred me to a cardiologist who would, we assumed, give me the OK.

So, three visits with the cardiologist: one for the initial exam and baseline EKG, one visit for the echocardiogram (which is really cool), and one visit for the stress test. No surprise to anyone, I just about failed the stress test. Sheeyit, I can walk 'til the cows come home, but not that fast and not at that incline! I did bad, really bad. How bad? The doctor said he had a patient that morning who did the same time as I did - and she was 78 years old. (He probably just said that to make me feel worse than I already did.)

Rx = 30 minutes 'brisk' walking 5 times a week. That means huffin', puffin', and sweatin'. Ugh. I hate exercise. Even when it's disguised as "dancing" or "playing with the Wii." I don't like to sweat. But he said "it's either huff and puff, or get sick." Well, fine.

I also had the event monitor set up after the stress test last Friday; I'll be wearing it for about a month. Just so you know, when you see me, it's okay to point at my chest and laugh. The wires and the monitor make an odd silhouette under my top.

(Yes, I really am okay. All the tests show no incidence of heart problems, and the cardiologist also believes my palpitations were due to stress. But the event monitor will record a minute's worth of my heart if I feel like I'm having another episode, which will allow him to make sure nothing's going wrong. I'm fine.) (But I still hate to exercise.) (And no, knitting doesn't count.) (Dammit.)