Monday Mornings (Effectively)

I know, it's Tuesday, but it's a Monday. I'm hungry, and I haven't had any coffee. I'm cranky.

I haven't eaten nor drank beyond water since 2200 yesterday. I have a 12-hour fast before my appointment this morning for blood work and an echocardiogram.

I'll bet that raises questions.

Well, a couple weeks ago I had a weird thing happen. Right around noon on a Wednesday, I started feeling really strange. I was, all of a sudden, very tired. That turned into dizziness. Later I started feeling like a large individual was standing on my chest, which made normal breathing rather difficult. I was very hot; I constantly felt like the temperature in the room was a cozy 97 degrees, and I had the sweats to prove it. Eventually I started to have a sharp pain in my chest, there on the left side in the middle of the ribcage (I think there's something important behind that...). All of this was capped by a general feeling that Something Is Very Wrong.

I felt like shit for the rest of Wednesday. The Wifey asked me if I was feeling okay that evening, and all I told her was that I didn't feel good. Truth was, I knew that I was lying, and I was lying because I was scared of what was really happening.

Thursday came, and I felt better that morning. Still a little off, but good enough to work. So off I went. Before lunch, the same thing started all over again. I had a lunch meeting with a manufacturer's rep, during which I sat and stared at the wall the whole time. I nearly told my boss to take me to the hospital when the chest pain started up again, and I damn-sure should have. (I will not be making that mistake again.) Worked until a little after five, and back home. Only this time, when I got home, The Wifey knew that something was really wrong. She grilled me about it until I spilled. During the conversation she mentioned going to see a doctor, but as soon as I said "chest pain", talking was pretty much done. The Little Girl was taken to Grandma and Grandpa's house, and I was taken to the emergency room.

The town I live in is not too far away from San Antonio, but I've spent enough time in the ERs there to know that it takes a long time to get anywhere. I know chest pain gets you bumped to the front of the line, but I also didn't want the drive. Fortunately, there's a new small Methodist hospital about five minutes from my house, so there we went. As expected, the waiting room was empty. So was the rest of the ER besides staff, so right into the triage nurse I went. Quick vitals and whatnot and back to a room we go, where she starts hooking up a 12-lead to me while continuing to get a history.

Ambulance Driver will appreciate this next part.

While the triage nurse is hooking me up, word graces the ear of what is clearly the Queen Bee of the ER Nursing Staff, who walks in the room with a (sort of) smile on her face and asks me how I'm feeling.

Queen Bee: "Chest pain, right?"
Me: "Yes, ma'am."
Queen Bee, still with (sort of) smile, but discreet fire and brimstone in eyes to Triage Nurse: "You need to call for backup, Hon; this ain't no one-man show."

That's when a flood of nurses walked in to really get me started. History was continued, though by this time I was repeating my symptoms to every new person that walked in the room. EKG was running, and blood was about to be drawn. This is where things got bad for The Wifey, who was sitting at my side the whole time.

(Let me first say that I have no problems with needles. Or scalpels. Or any of that stuff. I donate blood, and I watch when the stick the needle in. I watched The Wifey's C-Section. I watched two of my own surgeries. One could argue that I have a significant constitution bonus somewhere.)

So, I knew that I was getting an FNG when, of the two nurses that walked in together, the first said to the one holding the blood-draw stuff, "It's okay. You can do it." I figured I'm pretty good with this stuff, and it generally doesn't bother me even when they miss, so if she's gotta learn, I'd be a good patient to learn on.

She was digging for a vein when the ER Doc walked in, and she was digging for a vein during the entire repeated symptoms and history. After a while, it was really starting to distract. It wasn't quite killing me, but it was getting there in a hurry. I stopped my history, looked over at her, and said, "You find that vein yet, Hon?" She blushed and apologized, and I felt bad. "It's alright," I said. "Relax, but let's git-r-dun, okay?"

I guess that was the confidence she needed, because within a couple seconds she was In Like Flynn, and the blood draw began. I'm not sure just how much blood they needed for testing, but I know exactly how much they took: roughly enough for a transfusion for someone who's on "E". She finished that up, switched over to the IV, taped me all up and started on her merry way. She didn't make it far.

I had continued my conversation with the ER Doc, and after a minute or so I started to have the same symptoms that put me in the ER in the first place. I got very flush, and the very bad feelings all started rushing back to me. My demeanor - which had been cool as ice so far - suddenly changed to one of not very calm, and I said, "It's happening again. Right now." ER Doc sprung from leaning against a countertop and was at my bedside with a very concerned look on his face, which I caught the faintest glimpse of before I went out.

Some time apparently passed, after which I could not see anything, but I could hear echos of all the sounds around me. I was awake, I thought, but I could not wake up. I'm not sure I was trying all that hard. Then I saw light, but nothing was in focus. Then, all at once, the echos turned to articulate sounds and the blurry light turned into my room at the ER, where ER Doc was in my face not quite yelling and nurses were all around me. One of the sounds I heard was the EKG screaming, then stopping and returning to normal function. When the smoke cleared, and the Doc was asking me what happened, I knew right away. I had felt like this before. I had a vasovagal syncope and went night-night for a couple minutes until my heart decided to let my brain have some blood again, which apparently is required when you want to do stuff like be awake.

Ha, ha, funny, right? Kinda funny? Well, as long as you aren't the concerned spouse. Remember how she's sitting right there? Yeah. All she knows is that we're in the hospital because I'd been having chest pains, and then I crash and the heart monitor starts screaming alarms that queue a great deal of activity and concern from the ER staff.

Once the smoke cleared from that little episode and I got some cold water in me, everyone left me alone with The Wifey. I knew what happened, and I knew what she saw. I felt really bad for her. She said she was alright. I knew she was lying. I didn't push.

We stayed there while they ran their tests, which, naturally, all came back A.O.K. The ER Doc wanted me to follow up with a cardiologist, since a 30-year-old guy shouldn't be having these sorts of issues. We both agreed that it'd be best to rule everything out when it comes to the ticker. I met with a cardiologist a couple days later, who looked at my EKG and blood test results, and scheduled a bunch more tests.

So that brings us to today. I've got a little over an hour before I go for more blood tests (and hopefully less passing out) and the ECHO.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried at all.

Y'all say a little prayer, just in case, alright?



tweaker