Monday, May 10, 2010

Today was a Red Letter day in my little cardiac journey, as I went for a stress test at the University of Ottawa Heart Institute. The last time I did one of those it was not that hot. I did my first ever blog last Halloween evening on that stress test (myocardial perfusion scan if one wants to get technical) .
So today after signing in, I hang out on the first floor waiting area just outside the PAU (Pre Admission Unit). I see the singles and I see the couples and I see the families. It really is a Red Letter Day for everybody there. People waiting for tests. People waiting for surgery. People getting their pre surgery instructions. People holding small bags for their clothing. Everybody going into surgery wears the same fashion. No room for Jeanne Becker here.
If there is a common thread here it is the thread of hope. Hope is contagious and in a way you, as a patient or a support and love person are united in this silent bond of hope. There is no chalice of wine here, nor host. Yet the sense of Communion drifts invisibly and powerfully from occupied seat to occupied seat. It is quite powerful.
Out of the blue my cardiac surgeon passes by and says "How ya doin'?". I resist my smart ass desire to reply that we will know in about 45 minutes. I just nod my head up and down vigorously and say I am doing great. I am not sure if he really recogizes me with my clothes on anyway.
What's that? My name is being called and off I go to the tread mill. First a few checks to ensure that I am who I say I am. I sign a release to okay full medical intervention if needed. Shirt off - lay on my back and get the electrodes glued onto me. It is old hat, the little shave you get, the cool gel that gets rubbed on you. Some may find this erotic, but not me. I get the Blood Pressure cuff, and plugged in, and then on the tread mill.
This is a BIG DEAL. I have not exerted myself since mid October. No bike rides or kayak paddles yet. My daily walks have been modest in effort, I have made sure that my HR did not go much above 100 bps. Even with my beta blocker infused blood that was modest. For almost seven months I have not broken out in a sweat. Not once had I had been conscious of my heart pounding like it does when running or cycling or kayaking or some other activity of pleasure. What if I heard a big POP, the technician shouting "Oh Shit!" and then blackness, awakening, and then facing my lifetime of shortcomings and failures item by item by item.
I saw the computer screen but I will not interpret the data myself. I meet my UOHI mentor on Friday and my cardiologist on May 20. I will just say that in the end I was out of breath, I was panting, and I could hear my heart pounding. Best of all I felt wonderful.
I got dressed and was walked backed into the waiting area. Communion was still being celebrated and I gladly took part.

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