Chapter 3: A Frightening Fortune
My time spent at home was in the comfort of my bed. I have never battled with depression, but I imagined this is what it would feel like. I didn't clean my house or share a glass of wine while William cooked dinner. I didn't fuss at the kids to do their homework or stop playing too much video games. I didn't do anything, really, but sit in bed with the laptop close so that I could spend some time researching this 'anomaly'.
Dr. Urquhart described it as a congenital defect where the pulmonary artery grew behind another main artery and, for athletes, it would eventually cut circulation and cause... sudden death. The only fix was open heart surgery. My father in law had a quadruple bypass just over a year ago and I saw what he struggled with. I'd look around the house and all I could see were the millions of things that wouldn't get done while I was hospitalized and recovering. It was easier just to lay in bed.
We didn't tell the kids too much. They knew I wasn't feeling good. And they heard our prayers at dinner where we asked God to provide the doctors with guidance and to keep me around as long as possible. They knew that dinner was looking healthier than normal and we didn't have any salt on the table. They knew I was sick, but they didn't know how. We would tell them when we knew what was going on, we were feeling enough stress for all of us.
On Thursday, I was able to have coffee again. The doctor said I couldn't drink enough caffeine to cause any damage to my heart and I certainly wasn't going to take her up on the challenge. I would only need my 1 cup to wake up in the morning. I would start removing it from my routine, but not cold turkey like I had done before. No need to cause any more migraines.
I wore my Baltimore Running Festival Half Marathon shirt to the doctor's office for my stress test. They were already calling me the "Marathon Runner" so I might as well play it off. We did more of the same, Noel took my weight, ran an ekg, and took blood pressure in both of my arms and legs (110 over 70, just like it should be). The talkative lady did some more sonogram photos of my heart while I was laying down. Then everyone joined me and William in the room as I began the stress test.
I had told them all that I was excited to get on the treadmill since I hadn't been on one since May when we were in the resort in Jamaica. The test started out easy. Walking, no big deal. I held a conversation about cross fit gyms and a class that Dr. Urquhart was going to start taking with her dog. She told me of two different people she'd done stress tests on that were athletes like me, and how well they did on the test even though they both had serious heart conditions. The test got harder and it became harder to talk, not that I had too many chances to participate in the discourse anyway. My head began to throb again. Noel continually took my blood pressure during the test and when it was over I was lying on the table getting more photos of my racing heart. It all really happened very quickly. The next thing we know, we're sitting in the doctor's office with the doctor and Taser. I was trying hard to cover up the fact that I was having another migraine. This one had started so suddenly, and for no apparent reason. But the more the doctor talked, the worse it became.
The 24 hour heart monitor showed that I had Supra Ventricular Tachycardia (SVT). Ceci had that and had an oblation a couple of years ago. So that wasn't' too terrible. But more importantly the bottom wall of my heart wasn't performing. She had noticed it while I was at rest, but the stress test proved that it wasn't performing at work either. There was no drawing. There was no discussion really. She would continue her quest to diagnose me tomorrow. I'd have a nuclear stress test done. She spent some time talking about what I should expect. I remember William cracking a joke about Gamma radiation and She Hulk. I remember my head pounding and the inability to sit still. I remember an overwhelming feeling of the inability to change my own outcome. I was going to be diagnosed with a serious heart condition. This was my fate and I had no control.
Seeing the distress on my face William asked the doctor, "Can she drink wine?"
"Well, I prefer vodka myself," she said with her joking Jewish voice. "But a couple of glasses of wine won't hurt you."
Before we made it to the car William had decided that I couldn't go home like this. We would go to dinner so that I could calm down before facing the kids. I couldn't see straight from the pain in my head. We found ourselves in Falls Grove Safeway buying aspirin for the first time of my life. I would have taken anything to stop the pain in my head, and William was certain that I needed aspirin for my heart. We hadn't even finished at the self check out before I was tearing the bottle open and downing a bottle of water with 2 full strength Bayers. Call it the placebo affect, call it what ever you want, but as we walked across the parking lot to Taipei Tokyo, I already felt relief in my head.
We were sat in the back of the restaurant and immediately ordered a glass of Cabernet and a beer. I called my father and could barely get the words out before the tears started streaming down my face. William came from across the table, and sat next to me in my booth. He rubbed my back as I told the story of how I failed my stress test and I had to go back tomorrow. The anxiety had left me and now I was filled with sorrow. Flashes of that stupid movie, "Terms of Endearment" came in and out of my head. I had to be overreacting. I cannot be a 34 year old half marathon runner who is going to die young of a heart condition. The wine was reminding me how strong I was. My grandfathers died because they didn't know. But I know and I can get better. I'll be back at it. And imagine how fast I can run when the bottom wall of my heart is working with the rest? Ah, the wine fed me strength.
I only had two pieces of sushi while William fed his nerves the rest. We were laughing about the future and our past. We had always thought that Williams hard past would cause him to be the first to go. I should have been more wreckless and eaten more bacon in my lifetime. Life is short. Too short.
And then we got our fortune cookies. Neither one of us held any stock in the Americanized tradition of Chinese fortune cookies. I wasn't even sure this was a Chinese restaurant. But the fortune's were priceless.
Mine simply stated, "It was a job well done."
"Well, it's true, " I said. "I'm checking out, The fortune cookie says so. I did a good job and now its time for me to go!" We laughed as William opened his.
"No!" He dragged it out in slow motion ... like he didn't believe what he was seeing. "You're not going to believe this." He handed me his fortune which read, "You will be inheriting money and land."
We both burst out with laughter. For the first time in my life, I'd keep our fortunes.
"Sorry honey. I don't have any money, land, or property, but you'll have the kids and the cats. It's all I have to leave."
We had lifted our spirits enough to face the home front. And tomorrow we'd have more answers. Hopefully the next test will give me a better fortune than the cookie.
Dr. Urquhart described it as a congenital defect where the pulmonary artery grew behind another main artery and, for athletes, it would eventually cut circulation and cause... sudden death. The only fix was open heart surgery. My father in law had a quadruple bypass just over a year ago and I saw what he struggled with. I'd look around the house and all I could see were the millions of things that wouldn't get done while I was hospitalized and recovering. It was easier just to lay in bed.
We didn't tell the kids too much. They knew I wasn't feeling good. And they heard our prayers at dinner where we asked God to provide the doctors with guidance and to keep me around as long as possible. They knew that dinner was looking healthier than normal and we didn't have any salt on the table. They knew I was sick, but they didn't know how. We would tell them when we knew what was going on, we were feeling enough stress for all of us.
On Thursday, I was able to have coffee again. The doctor said I couldn't drink enough caffeine to cause any damage to my heart and I certainly wasn't going to take her up on the challenge. I would only need my 1 cup to wake up in the morning. I would start removing it from my routine, but not cold turkey like I had done before. No need to cause any more migraines.
I wore my Baltimore Running Festival Half Marathon shirt to the doctor's office for my stress test. They were already calling me the "Marathon Runner" so I might as well play it off. We did more of the same, Noel took my weight, ran an ekg, and took blood pressure in both of my arms and legs (110 over 70, just like it should be). The talkative lady did some more sonogram photos of my heart while I was laying down. Then everyone joined me and William in the room as I began the stress test.
I had told them all that I was excited to get on the treadmill since I hadn't been on one since May when we were in the resort in Jamaica. The test started out easy. Walking, no big deal. I held a conversation about cross fit gyms and a class that Dr. Urquhart was going to start taking with her dog. She told me of two different people she'd done stress tests on that were athletes like me, and how well they did on the test even though they both had serious heart conditions. The test got harder and it became harder to talk, not that I had too many chances to participate in the discourse anyway. My head began to throb again. Noel continually took my blood pressure during the test and when it was over I was lying on the table getting more photos of my racing heart. It all really happened very quickly. The next thing we know, we're sitting in the doctor's office with the doctor and Taser. I was trying hard to cover up the fact that I was having another migraine. This one had started so suddenly, and for no apparent reason. But the more the doctor talked, the worse it became.
The 24 hour heart monitor showed that I had Supra Ventricular Tachycardia (SVT). Ceci had that and had an oblation a couple of years ago. So that wasn't' too terrible. But more importantly the bottom wall of my heart wasn't performing. She had noticed it while I was at rest, but the stress test proved that it wasn't performing at work either. There was no drawing. There was no discussion really. She would continue her quest to diagnose me tomorrow. I'd have a nuclear stress test done. She spent some time talking about what I should expect. I remember William cracking a joke about Gamma radiation and She Hulk. I remember my head pounding and the inability to sit still. I remember an overwhelming feeling of the inability to change my own outcome. I was going to be diagnosed with a serious heart condition. This was my fate and I had no control.
Seeing the distress on my face William asked the doctor, "Can she drink wine?"
"Well, I prefer vodka myself," she said with her joking Jewish voice. "But a couple of glasses of wine won't hurt you."
Before we made it to the car William had decided that I couldn't go home like this. We would go to dinner so that I could calm down before facing the kids. I couldn't see straight from the pain in my head. We found ourselves in Falls Grove Safeway buying aspirin for the first time of my life. I would have taken anything to stop the pain in my head, and William was certain that I needed aspirin for my heart. We hadn't even finished at the self check out before I was tearing the bottle open and downing a bottle of water with 2 full strength Bayers. Call it the placebo affect, call it what ever you want, but as we walked across the parking lot to Taipei Tokyo, I already felt relief in my head.
We were sat in the back of the restaurant and immediately ordered a glass of Cabernet and a beer. I called my father and could barely get the words out before the tears started streaming down my face. William came from across the table, and sat next to me in my booth. He rubbed my back as I told the story of how I failed my stress test and I had to go back tomorrow. The anxiety had left me and now I was filled with sorrow. Flashes of that stupid movie, "Terms of Endearment" came in and out of my head. I had to be overreacting. I cannot be a 34 year old half marathon runner who is going to die young of a heart condition. The wine was reminding me how strong I was. My grandfathers died because they didn't know. But I know and I can get better. I'll be back at it. And imagine how fast I can run when the bottom wall of my heart is working with the rest? Ah, the wine fed me strength.
I only had two pieces of sushi while William fed his nerves the rest. We were laughing about the future and our past. We had always thought that Williams hard past would cause him to be the first to go. I should have been more wreckless and eaten more bacon in my lifetime. Life is short. Too short.
And then we got our fortune cookies. Neither one of us held any stock in the Americanized tradition of Chinese fortune cookies. I wasn't even sure this was a Chinese restaurant. But the fortune's were priceless.
Mine simply stated, "It was a job well done."
"Well, it's true, " I said. "I'm checking out, The fortune cookie says so. I did a good job and now its time for me to go!" We laughed as William opened his.
"No!" He dragged it out in slow motion ... like he didn't believe what he was seeing. "You're not going to believe this." He handed me his fortune which read, "You will be inheriting money and land."
We both burst out with laughter. For the first time in my life, I'd keep our fortunes.
"Sorry honey. I don't have any money, land, or property, but you'll have the kids and the cats. It's all I have to leave."
We had lifted our spirits enough to face the home front. And tomorrow we'd have more answers. Hopefully the next test will give me a better fortune than the cookie.
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