Monday, 29 September 2014

A Damp Squib

The other week or so my Primary Care Physician, the ever fabulous Dr. K-isten P-ulus ordered up a stress test for me. (We are trying to find out why I experience chronic fatigue).

The test was slated for today at the offices of the Sarasota H--rt  Speci-list Group's Dr. Ch-ppy
 Nall-ri.

(I scramble names so that they will not be trawled (trolled?).

The pre-test instructions were manifold.

No food after midnight.
No alcohol after midnight  (damn, I had to forgo my usual 2:30 a.m. Bloody Mary).
No coffee (even de-caff) in the morning, no breakfast.
Ambiguous instructions re medications.
Drinking water allowed.

I was instructed to be at the Doctor's Office half an hour before the appointment.  I chose to arrive fifteen minutes in advance as I had already mailed in the volumes of paper-work which all physicians and surgeons require.

I was told that the procedure would take up to two hours, and that I might wish to equip myself with a book for the forty-five minute "rest period".

The call for the procedure came five minutes early.  It came from a forty-something man who could have been the janitor  (he was dressed in grey jeans and a tee shirt, and he did not wear a name badge).

He hooked me up to various monitors then set me upon a tread mill upon which I pounded until my heart beat reached 120 per minute (I think).  It was not a breeze, nor was it difficult.

I had a wee bit of hip pain on the steep ascents, and the calf muscles in my right leg seized up a bit  (they do so when I take my early morning walks - it has to do with fallen arches on my right foot).

The test over I emerged a bit breathless, but intact.  It took about four minutes for my blood pressure to stabilize.

"Mr Techie" removed all the sensors on my chest and belly. I said  "what next?".  He said "you can go home, you and your Doctor will get the results in about a week".

The entire event lasted for half an hour. 

I was a bit deflated as I had expected some manner of an interview with Dr. Ch-ppy Nall-ri.

What hurts most is that after those severe  morning privations and the stress test itself,  the brass marching band and cheerleaders I had expected to be there to celebrate my success were nowhere to be seen. Damn, yet another cut under Obamacare. 

If this test  had been in the U.K. my success would have been celebrated with a fly-over with  R.A.F jets, and a parade by the British Grenadiers.

I'll keep you posted.







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