I once heard the aphorism that “a man who is his own attorney has a fool for a client”. It turns out that legal matters is not the only arena in which that insight is applicable. Let me tell you a story about that.
So, several years ago, The Darling Wife and I were vacationing in Georgia. There are multiple sites, preserving locations where significant battles of The War Between The States/The War of Northern Aggression (depending upon when and where you learned of such things) occurred. I wanted to walk one of the battlefields (Chickamauga), both to stretch my legs as well as to get a feel for the closeness of the opposing forces.
I was winded by the time I finished my rambling over one section of battlefield, considerably more so than I had expected. I chalked it up to “bronchitis”. (remember that thought!) This persisted as I wandered from site to site, and paused to read the explanatory tablets set here and there.
We finished our vacation, and returned home. There, my “bronchitis” persisted, until, eventually, my Long Suffering Wife asked me about my illness. I admitted that it had not improved, which was curious since I had been having this “bronchitis” for about a month by then.
“How’s your fever?”, she asked.
I did not have a fever.
“Is that common when you see a patient who has had bronchitis for several weeks?”
No, I admitted, it was not.
“So, get your shoes.”
“Because, if you do not, your feet will become muddy”
“Why would they get muddy?”
“When you walk to the car.”
“Why would I be walking to the car?”
“Because I’m not going to carry you there.”
“Why do I need to go to the car anyhow?”
“Because it is too far to walk.”
“Where is too far to walk?”
“Your doctor appointment.”
“I don’t have a doctor appointment!”
“Oh, yes you do! Your wife made one for you!”
“Why did you do that?”
“Because she (my PCP) is not going to come here to see you, that is why.”
“Why do I need to see her?”
“A couple of reasons. First, to get you to stop asking dumb questions. Secondly, because you are sick some kind of way, and your plan is not working. You are going to talk to your doctor, and listen to her plan. And, then, act on it.”
I went to my doctor (actually a Nurse Practitioner, with whom I had ER nursed), who did an EKG, “because you are old and all.” “Well”, she told me, “This looks pretty OK, but, your story is concerning. I’m gonna schedule you for a stress test.”
Cool story. So, I arrived the next day in my running shoes and running shorts, and proceeded to tank the stress test. I mean, I did not even finish the first stage before the physician administering the test stopped me, repeatedly took my vitals, and called cardiology.
Next week, I’m sitting in the cardiology office, and the cardiologist is admiring my EKG, and enjoying my Tale Of The Failed Stress Test. He told me, “My partner will be waiting for you, to do a cardiac cath, at 3:30 (it was now about noon).”
Okey-dokey! So, I went in to my cath, with The Darling Wife and her BFF waving me farewell.
When I awakened, it was like a family re-union. Darling Wife, her BFF, her niece, my second son, my third son, my daughter, and something like 4 or 5 other folks, family in one way or another, who I cannot recall off the top of my head. Once I had sobered up enough for The Darling Wife to brief me on the doctor’s report, her precis was sobering: “You had 95% of your main artery in your heart blocked, but they were able to open it with a balloon and a stent. The doctor said had you waited a few more days, you would have had a big, bad heart attack, and, where that blockage was located, you heart would have stopped. Missed it by That Much!”
2 thoughts on “My Cardiac Cath Story”
At least ya listened and didn’t balk too much… did ya learn a lesson? One who has 5 stents all like little ducks in the row in my LAD. Mine was a congenital narrowing of that artery. I had the same “bronchitis” and was barely shuffling along with a long walk. All the rest of my arteries are nice and wide and no plaque.