More Fun With Fibrillation

I got to see my cardiologist today about my fibrillocity. I was excited because it meant a little time off of work, she’s kinda cute (I swear I never noticed before but my wife keeps pointing it out) and I figured I was going to be presented with my award for joining the Atrial Fibrillation Club because it’s the 10th time I’ve had it. My visit didn’t quite go as I had planned.

As always, the beginning of all the fun starts in the waiting room. I learn so much about the senior culture by waiting to see my heart doctor. The couple I sat next to this morning was in their mid-70s and they were particularly grumpy and not too fond of each other. I was digging the free entertainment until the wife started saying bad things about another older gentleman’s cargo shorts. Then the husband starting chiming in about his disapproval of all the pockets on said shorts. It took every fiber of my being not to say something to them two of them. Not only was I wearing cargos, but I personally think they are one of the three modern miracles of our industrious people, alongside the deep fryer and cheese grater. I waited them out until they started bickering about how cold it was. I wanted to ask everyone if they were up for a game of bingo, but a voice in the back of my mind that I had never heard before today kept telling me it was a bad idea. Besides, today’s security guard liked a little brawnier than the guy on duty last time I was there.

I didn’t think it was possible, but I beat my cardiologist into the office this morning. If there is anything I can tell you about waiting in an examination room, it’s that you should never, no matter how bored you are, look at all of the heart related reading material in the magazine rack. After reading about topics ranging from implantable devices to living with heart failure, I was too scared to breath, or sneeze, or move for that matter. When my doctor knocked on the door to enter, I think I jumped 5 feet. We exchanged pleasantries and then instead of asking about the pounding in my chest, rapid acceleration of my heartbeat, the weakness in my legs or the fact that I start to pass out every time I get up or bend over, I asked her if it was medically possible for the Grinch’s heart to grow three sizes that day. The answer: that was just a cartoon, an enlarged heart is never good and I’m awfully backed up with patients this morning. I tried a different tact when she asked about my atrial fibrillation. I made mention that I scheduled the appointment in the hopes of getting my Ten Timer trophy. She turned from me and entered something into the computer. I swore for a minute that I could hear a cricket chirp. Maybe I should not have laughed so hard at my own joke.

Obviously I had missed my mark twice so I just came right out and asked what hearts are currently going for on the black market. She countered with ‘there’s a more serious medication we can put you on, but I have to renew my certification for it.’ That is never a statement you want to hear your doctor say, especially when it is followed up by, ‘it has a side effect that can kill you.’ Wow, you never hear that on all those commercials for medications these days. ‘Side effects, while rare, can include diarrhea, vomiting, lightheadedness, blurred vision and instant and excruciating death.’ It just makes you want to rush out to the pharmacy, doesn’t it?

After my appointment was over, I was asked to take an EKG. I took my shirt off and the technician looked at the scar running down my chest and said, ‘oh, have you had open heart surgery?’ Maybe it was because I’ve lived with that scar and have had to answer that question for all of my life, but before I realized it, I said ‘nope, I was attacked and mauled right down the middle of my chest by a bear that had an amazing sense of symmetry.’ Now worried that I had offended him, even though I was joking, I asked if he could tell by the EKG strip how bad the earthquake was. Finally, I got a laugh.

I then had to go back to my doctor’s nurse for them to review the EKG. Do you think it’s a bad thing when my nurse shakes her head as she is giving me the grape sucker I asked for as I was leaving? The red ones taste too much like medicine…