So, I’ve had a New Year’s resolution sort of forced upon me this January. It turns out that my being officially classified as morbidly obese may not be the only reason for my lack of energy and shortness of breath at the slightest exertion.
At the urging…nay, insistence, of my family, I finally went to the doctor before Christmas. I’d been hedging on that visit primarily out of embarrassment at having gained back all and more of the 40 pounds I’d lost in 2016. He really doesn’t give me cause for such shame. In fact, he’s sympathetic to my dilemma but, in spite of my pleas that he prescribe some magic pill to jump start my will power, he keeps insisting no such pill exists. What he does say is that he could live with my ginormousness if I’d just begin and stay with some type of exercise regimen. That’s when I had to confess that I get poohed-out just climbing the basement stairs. Not being able to catch enough breath leads to panic. So, I’ve been trying to avoid any and all extraneous activity out of a real fear that I will keel over for lack of oxygen.
Bottom line; the exercise I need to lose weight and build up strength gives me the sensation of drowning or being squeezed into a small space with no exit. Even though my heart sounded strong, he ordered an EKG which led to a recommendation that I see a cardiologist for more tests to make sure the old blood pump wasn’t a major source of my problem.
And so, I thought, the doctoring begins.
My first trip to the heart hospital was mostly to visit with the guy and set up a stress test and echo cardio exam.
So, that’s where Linda and I were before sunrise on December 30th. A photo session, really. 
I just closed my eyes as they squeezed me through the orgasmatron..or whatever they call that tube shaped device that takes images of the heart before and after being injected with some nuclear material designed to get it racing without the need of a treadmill. After being allowed to exit that claustrophobia cylinder, it was off to another room in which Linda was allowed to join me as electrodes were applied to my exposed ample bare chest by an attractive young nurse who proceeded to smear Vicks Vapo Rub…KY Jelly or some such lubricant on a probe which she rubbed all over my torso showing images of the old ticker from every possible angle on a screen for close observation. Linda was fascinated at the show.
It was all pretty painless and I got the feeling I passed.
Forward to January 2nd. Phone rings. Hello is this Doug? Yes. Could I confirm your last name and birth date please? (If you haven’t been to the doctor for a while, be prepared to give your birthday out to anyone and everyone wearing scrubs.) Well, Doug I have some results from your recent echo gram and stress test. The echo test was well within acceptable perimeters. ( I sensed a “but” coming). But, the stress test did show your heart not getting the required amount of blood for optimal function. We’d like to schedule you for an angiogram.
How soon? (pause)
Would Friday work?
And, so that’s how I’ll be spending my weekend.
Hopefully, any issues will be discovered and addressed at the time.
I’m anxious to feel better.
