So, this morning I had my stress echo cardiogram. Remember I told you about this? I put on my work-out clothes, which included work-out pants that still had the tags on them and my sports bra, and went to the cardiac place to get it over with. The first thing they told me to do was undress from the waist up, and put a little gown on with the worn out velcro "fasteners" in the front. So much for the sports bra. I got it wrong the first time, so I had to try again, and put them in the front, as previously stated. Then they attached little electrodes all over me, put cables on the electrodes, and then did a resting echo. You lay on your left side with your left arm behind your head, and your right arm at your side. Pretty comfortable, actually, unless you don't like your left boob hanging out of your "fastened"-on-the-front gown. Its so cute: the bed has a little section cut out that they can lower, like a little trap door, so your boob can hang down. And by cute, I mean embarrassing.
Anyway, after the resting echo and all the other measurements, they put me on the tread mill and I start walking. The incline and speed increase, and in about five minutes or so I'm breathing really hard and wondering when it will end. I'm still in my lab gown, and I'm walking up a steep hill, and the boobs are all over the place. When the treadmill stops, you're supposed to jump off and dash over to the bed and drop your boob in the trap door, and they do another echo. They make you hold your breath which is really hard when you're breathing heavy. They took my blood pressure 100 times, and then it was over. I went behind the curtain and used that infernal gown to swab my pits, and threw it in the hamper.
I waited outside for the cardiologist, played a few games of solitaire on my iPod, and when she came out she asked, "Why were you sent here exactly?" I told her, and she said I didn't have pulmonary hypertension, which I had predicted, and then I went home. I know all these tests are a good idea, we have to look under every rock, but I've grown tired. I have one more next week, another blood draw in a few weeks, a pulmonary follow up, and I'm supposed to have a follow up with the ear nose and throat guy, but I think I'll blow that off. I'll be at the end of this particular diagnostic road then, and, unless I get sick again, I'll have a break.
In other news, I was talking to Rob on the phone, and he, very gently and politely asked that I not be watching TV when he got home, so we could eat dinner earlier and have a harmonious family experience. What a demanding shit head. Next thing you know, he'll want me to, I don't know, make dinner, or clean something, or fold some laundry! Just who in the hell does he think he is? Doesn't he know that Gilmore Girls is on at 5? Its probably a good thing to not watch Gilmore Girls before dinner. Whenever I see Luke's Diner, it makes me want hamburgers for dinner. A little dangerous.
My twelve year-old neighbor has started a band. They're practicing right now. Its soooo cute!!