Functionally ReTodded

I got a surprisingly good night’s sleep last night considering what was hanging over my head for this morning. It was actually quite nice to surprise Lauren by still being not only home but in bed when she got up and came in around 6:30am. We watched some Sportscenter together while the wife readied herself for the day, and then we had breakfast together too.

Of course, Lauren had a cheese bagel and some juice while I had two pieces of bread and a glass of water. It was sort of like breakfast in prison during the depression.

Anyway, I got to the Doctor’s office plenty early. That should surprise none of you that know me. I’m seldom if ever tardy anyway, but I certainly wasn’t going to be on this day.

Let me preface this story by saying that I’m a HUGE needlepuss. I hate needles, shots, IV’s, the thought of giving blood, etc. So the thought of getting anywhere from one to six injections of radioactive material did not appeal to me.

Oh, and one thing about the lobby. It was filled with geriatrics, octogenerians, and folks that weighed 400 pounds and couldn’t move without a walker. How on God’s green earth am I here with THESE folks?

Seriously, for the past four days all I’ve done is look at folks and say “why am I having chest pains when that 72 year old planetoid seems to be fine despite using the electric buzz-arounds at WalMart?” Anyway, I digress…

My appointment was at 8:30, and I was actually called back around 8:35. I had several of those electrode contact thingies applied about my torso and then she brought out the tournequet.

I’ve actually gotten better over the last few years and I actually did fine getting the IV. I guess knowing one shot is better than many is a pretty good motivator for thinking that the IV is okay. The Doctor came in and gave me the isotope injection and left.

I was then led out to a sub-waiting room. It wasn’t under water or anything, but it was 3 chairs facing a marred up wall next to a table covered in those blue bible story books you find at all doctor’s offices.

Luckily, I didn’t have to wait long.

At 8:55am I was called into another room. I put my personal effects aside and laid down on a narrow sort of grooved table with my hands above my head and waited. They then started the process that took about 20 minutes of laying totally still. Not too tough for a guy that’s spent the last 20 years as a basically sedentary being though.

Then, it was back into the exam room where I was hooked up to the EKG machine. I also couldn’t help but notice the defibrilator behind the door. I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.

So I did the treadmill test, got to level four (which is only one third of what my 63 year old dad).

Anyway, let’s skip forward to the phone call I just received. I am going back in this afternoon at 4pm for a consultation and to schedule a catheterization to identify and quantify the blockage of the artery on the front of my heart. That procedure will be performed, in all likelihood, by close of business tomorrow.

I will then schedule either an angioplasty or some other similar procedure depending upon what is found, and that procedure will, in all likelihood, be performed sometime within the week. That’s right. I’m going to have a procedure on my heart less than four weeks prior to the birth of my second child.

I cannot believe that I have actually typed that last paragraph. I’m 37 years old.

Holy fucking shit.