Monday, January 26, 2004
So I’ve been having chest pains. And not like, “Oh, I’m feeling discomfort” chest pains, but “Oh my gosh! I’m going to die alone in this bed rite now” chest pains. I’ve been ignoring them for a while now, rather successfully, I might add, but yesterday morning was the last straw. I couldn’t rise to go to church, b/c well, it hurt too much. So I decided that if I could drive the next day, I was going to the doctor. And so go to the doctor I did. Now you have to understand, I come from a sick family. No, not psychologically sick (although some may argue that is the case) but physically. For some reason (probably b/c they’re old) my family is ailing. And there are several, and I mean SEVERAL heart problems in my ancestry. This did not bode well for my problem and me. I was imagining having to call my mom and tell her the news. You know, and then sitting down with those who are close to me here (granted, that’s only like 4 people, but still) and tell them somberly that I have 6 months left to live. I was mentally making the phone calls and checking off who I thought would care and who would just use it as gossip fodder. You know, I was practicing saying, “I’m dying.” The nurse didn’t help my fatalistic thoughts by explaining what an EKG is and then asking about my thyroids. (which, by the way, I have NO idea what they are) So my young, cute doctor comes in and talks to me and concludes, just from talking to me, that it’s NOT a heart problem. I was relieved, but at the same time, a little saddened that I couldn’t use my “I’m dying” speech. He then proceeds to completely mess with my body. He started off with the normal listening to the heart thing, but then he made me lay down on my back and stomach and then back again and did REALLY weird things to me. Honestly, I’m glad no one was in there with us, b/c we looked RIDICULOUS. However, I am confident I could have made quite a bit of money had I had the foresight to sell tickets to this event. I didn’t think my body could contort in these ways and I wasn’t sure why cute doctor was doing this. Did he think it was funny? Was he enjoying the joke? Did he think that if he did something ridiculous, I would conclude he was working? At one point, he had me lay on my stomach and proceeded to mash my body into the little bed thing they put you on and all I could think was “Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe!” because my nose was being smashed into the paper towel he had so kindly placed on the bed. He also made me neck do things no neck should ever do. He kept telling me to relax, but how is one to relax when your heart is having problems and your cute doctor is swinging your neck around like a yo yo? He then informed me that I had a rib out of place. Apparently, my silly little rib (which heretofore will be referred to as “the funny rib”) likes to get out of its proper spot and rub up against nerves. I guess it gets bored and likes to go mingle. Figures the one time my body isn’t being anti-social, it causes me pain. I’ve never heard of such a thing, but it sort of made sense. And it also made me feel less silly about the little show we had put on earlier. Like I said, I sort of wish someone had been there to laugh at it, b/c it was greatly funny, but at the same time, I am glad my dignity has remained slightly intact. So now I’m just hoping that the doctor’s twisting, bending, and contorting will keep the funny rib in place. If not, then it’s back for more good times with the cute doctor. He told me pain killers wouldn’t help b/c it’s not an inflammation. So, I can’t just take a little pill and be happy. I have to go to through an emotionally disturbing experience to get the pain to leave. Who knew my chest pains would lead to embarrassment and not my “I’m dying” speech?