I am stressed... I need a test!

Thursday was the day of my cardiac stress test. I had suffered from some dizzy spells the previous week and some minor chest pains, so after a visit to Doc Fenton we decided that discretion was the better part of valor and I should probably make sure my arteries to my heart were not clogged with gunk.

Since Melody and I have been married I can count on one hand the number of times she has made coffee in the morning. This was one of them. The reason was pure compassion on her part, as I was informed the day prior by the pleasantly fascist hospital employee on the follow up call that I was not to have any caffeine this morning. As an additional kicker, I was not allowed to eat anything before the test either, and was limited to clear liquids and juices. After jotting all this down on a pad of paper I wondered if this was a cardiac test or an endurance test, as the test was not scheduled to begin until 1:00 pm in the afternoon and I arose that morning at 5:30 am.

So I sat at work from 7:00 am til 11:30 with only water to satisfy any pangs for nutrition. Outside my office I could smell the wonderful aroma of coffee, wafting through the building like a siren singing from the rocks. I dreamed of Juan Valdez and that smelly mule of his hand delivering a cup of fairly hot water filtered through cooked and crushed Plantae/Magnoliophyta/Magnoliopsida/Gentianales/Rubiaceae/Coffea seeds. Even though I only worked four & ½ hours that day, it was the longest work day in recent memory. When the time arrived, I summoned up my remaining strength and headed for the parking garage, knowing that I still had at least 5 additional hours between myself and some gruel.

I arrived at Mercy Hospital at the appointed time and checked in at the front desk as requested. After reviewing the paperwork before I signed the release documentation, I informed the administrative employee behind the counter that my doctor would probably be a little dismayed when he sees that they have changed his first name from William to Jennifer, so she quickly took back the forms and redid them while I waited there. I was told I needed to report to “Nuclear Medicine” and given directions to that part of the hospital. Personally, I had never heard of “nuclear medicine” and visions of two headed deer strolling by the Chernobyl power station rolled through my imagination, so I was very curious to see what this was all about.

After navigating the newly renovated hallways of the hospital, I found a door marked “Nuclear Medicine” that led to a small empty waiting room. The nurse behind the obligatory sliding glass window asked my name, said they would be with me in a minute, closed the glass, and proceeded to finish the gossip session she was previously engaging with a co-worker. Normally it would be a guess that they were talking about a fellow employee, but she did not fully close the glass and I could catch snippets of the juicy dirt on “Rhonda” that they were sharing. Between you and me I did not actually meet Rhonda, but if I did I would be interested to see if her dye job was as bad as they said….

Another nurse opened the door and called my name. She led me to a small room and informed me that I would be receiving an IV. We chatted about the procedure while she got the necessary materials together to “go vampire” on my arm. I mentioned that I was starving and would be glad when this was all done so I could actually eat something. She stopped what she was doing and looked at me like I was on drugs.

“You could have eaten something. Just no caffeine 12 hours before the test..”

I thought about asking her where their break room was, so I could raid their refrigerator for some food, hopefully the lunch sack of the prior day friendly fascist hospital employee who put me through this torture for nothing. But as the nurse already had my sleeves rolled up and was searching for a good vein to puncture I figured it would be pointless to pursuit that line of questioning.

The nurse was having a tough time finding a viable blood vessel at the junction of my ulna and humorous bones, and I was beginning to think we might end up playing the hospital version of "heroin den shooting gallery vein hunt" when she looked at my hand and exclaimed that I had wonderful veins on the back of them. Less than 2 minutes later after a quick swipe with disinfectant and a studious gaze by our friendly nurse and I had a needle in my hand connected to a tube. She proficiently taped down the needle and injected into the tube the various radioactive fluids necessary for the scan to be read properly.

When finished, she gave me a small bottle of water and told me to go back to the waiting room for 15 minutes while the fluids circulated through me. But as I got up and walked away I saw blood running down my hand and instantly realized that I was seriously leaking. With my usual wise-guy manner I turned back around, held my hand in the air, and asked "Is this suppose to do this?" I should have just let it leak because when she removed the tape and reset the needle it was probably the most painful part of the whole procedure.

After waiting the alloted time in the waiting room and downing the bottle of water I was called back and put into the "scanner" for 15 minutes. Rather than describe it I should just show a picture. Wasn't quite as dramatic as they make it look in the picture but it was a long 15 minutes. Plus I did not have to put on one of those insipidly thin "look at my butt!" robes as shown in the photo.

Once finished the nurse who had performed the scan helped me up from the table and gave me directions to my next destination: the actual stress test!

As I only got lost once, it took me about 4 minutes to get to the door marked "Stress Test". Again I enter to find a small waiting room. The nurse behind the glass door looks up and asks my name. She then asks me for my paperwork, which I dutifully informed her that her fellow coworkers down in Nuclear failed to trust me with bringing paperwork along, as they probably realized I would get lost at least once on the way and possible lose it in all the confusion. The stress test waiting room nurse then proceeded to lecture me on the shortcomings of her cohorts down in Nuclear, and as I did not have any indication or not whether she would be sticking my with any needles I just stood and nodded.

After the castigation of her fellow employee was complete, I was led through another door into a small room, where yet another nurse told me I had to take off my shirt so she could attach electrodes to my chest and abdomen. Once the shirt was off she took one look at my chest and broke out a razor. Now I am no gorilla but have a fair amount of chest hair, but when she got done prepping for placement of the electrodes I had several bare spots. Not even close to a re-enactment from "40 Year Old Virgin" but still traumatic to me.

Now I get handed off to another nurse who is in a slightly larger room with a curtain on one end not unlike a bay in a trauma center, only instead of a bed it has a well used treadmill with heart monitors sitting in the middle of it. The new nurse gives me the lowdown on what we are going to do... or I should say... what I am expected to do. She starts to make small talk as we wait for some additional paperwork to show up, but when I go to respond she keeps talking, so I quickly realize that her idea of small talk generally involves large quantities of her own voice and very little of anyone else. So again I smile and listen.

The paperwork shows up and I get grilled with medical questions. After the 10 minute interrogation, I am hooked up to a saline IV, about 14 electrodes, and led to the treadmill to begin the test. I hop on the treadmill and start at 1.2 mph at a 5% incline. No problem.

"Are you experiencing any chest pains?" they ask.

"No" I respond, thinking to myself that I would have to be pretty lame to be petering out already.

The test went on for 10 minutes and 45 seconds and maxed out at 4.2mph at 18% incline. Difficult and winding but I managed to do it without too much discomfort. Actually, the biggest discomfort was that every other minute they kept asking me that same pain question, making me think that any minute she would zap me with 1.1 jigawatts and then ask again....

"All done" the nurse stated as the treadmill began to slow down. "Are you feeling any pain at all"

"Just you" I thought but did not say.....