An introduction

Everyone, meet my heart monitor . . . heart monitor, everyone.

I thought that since we’ll all be together for the next three weeks we should be properly introduced.   A few weeks ago I went to visit a big-deal cardiologist, thinking that I should get myself checked out to make sure I didn’t have heart disease.  It is the leading killer of women in this country, you know.  Sure, I’ve never had high cholesterol or chest pains, but I do have a young child and I thought it would be better to find out whether I’m already suffering from heart disease or if I’m at risk for it. 

So, I go and get myself tested for all kinds of horrible stuff.  I have an EKG and an echocardiogram and a stress test, and what do they show?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  My heart is fantastic.  “Beautiful heart, perfect,” as my cardiologist described it.  Yeah, so why am I now hooked up to a monitor that is assessing every beat of my heart?  I’m not entirely sure.

Turns out that I have very low blood pressure.  I always thought that was a pretty good thing, but for the dizziness when I stand up too quickly.  That and the freezing fingers and inability to donate blood.  But other than that, it’s a good thing.  Except for the fact that I’ve fainted a couple of times as a result of my low blood pressure.  Not recently or anything, but apparently doctors have some strange sort of loyalty to the DMV and fainting is a big freaking deal.  I’m not kidding.  I used to think that what went on in the doctor’s office was private (sort of, except for my medical records being available to pretty much everyone).  I thought that unless I told a doctor I was going to go and kill someone, what I said was not going anywhere.  So. Not. Accurate.

Come to find out that doctors broadly interpret their duty to advise authorities if a patient may harm someone.  Like, some may believe that if you have a patient with a “condition” (hard to consider occasional dizziness (not ditziness) a medical condition) where it’s possible that they’ll faint, you have a duty to report that patient to the DMV.  Huh?  At about this point the doctor went off on some nonsense about how I could possibly drive a car, pass out behind the wheel and kill someone.  As a result, she needed to assess whether I should be allowed to drive.  I stopped trying to find the logic right when she said something about the DMV probably taking away my license if they knew about my “history”.  What?  I have low blood pressure, not epilepsy.  I have never had a seizure.  I’ve never fainted anywhere near a car.  The only time I’ve fainted in ages was at home after extreme illness where I was severely dehydrated and needed IVs and I would never have even thought to drive a car while that sick.  How does this get us to the possibility that I could faint while driving and therefore should lose my license? 

At this point, when my blood pressure was probably managing to creep up to a crazy high of 100/60, she says she thinks it’s unlikely that I pose a danger to anyone.  Okay, I’m listening again.  She tells me that she does think there is an underlying condition that has caused the episodes in the past (seriously, we’re talking about what people in Victorian times called “swooning”), but she thinks it has something to do with a nerve and she thinks it can be treated with a particular medication.  And the benefit is that the medication could help with some of the fatigue that I experience that is likely tied to my blood pressure.  And at this point I became actively interested in what she had to say.  I used to think I was just lazy and tired a lot.  Turns out there was a medical reason for it that no one bothered to mention before.  Even better, there are non-debilitating meds that can help.

To rule out an electrical problem, I need to wear a monitor before they’ll give me the medication that might actually make a difference with the annoyances I’ve experienced since becoming an adult.  Fine.  That’ll take like a day, right?  Um, no.  Since my “episodes” are intermittent (that’s what you call something when it happens every 3 to 5 years or longer), I’ll need to wear a monitor that constantly assesses me for 21 days.  That means I’m hooked up to this thingy that has electrodes stuck to my chest and ribs performing a constant EKG. 

If you’ve read this blog for a while you know that I work in an industry where things like medical issues are considered personal weaknesses.  Failures.  Moreover, I work for a firm that is risk averse at best.  You can imagine how this is going over.  One partner walked into my office and saw the monitor’s base unit (the part that talks to my monitor and sends messages to the doctor and the provider by phone) hooked up to the phone jack (I simply could not hide it without moving furniture).  He recognized it because it’s made by one of our clients and so I had to tell him what was going on.  First thing out of his mouth was “don’t tell anyone – make sure you wear baggy clothes to hide it and if you have to carry that (the base unit) hide it in a file folder”.  Second was “if they find out you’ll have to go on disability – the firm could be sued if you hit someone while driving” (explaining when I looked at him blankly).  Implicit in this was what would happen to my chances for partnership if this gets out and certainly how perilous it would be if I had to take disability.   Third was to ask me who in our tech support group hooked the monitor up to the phone system so he could go do damage control in case they knew what it was.  By now I feel like I’m in some sort of alternate universe.  Like I’ve committed some sort of crime and we’re covering it up.

Okay, what’s the moral to this story?  First, think seriously about going to a doctor for “preventative” reasons.  I’m only half joking here.   None of this would be happening but for the fact that I wanted to prevent heart disease instead of treat it later.  Clearly, I’m happier knowing I’m not suffering from heart disease, but . . . really???  Second, if you’ve ever fainted, think twice before disclosing this to a doctor; know how it could impact you other than by virtue of your health generally.  I’m not saying you should hide it – I just wish I had known what I was getting myself into.  I had never before thought to lie to my doctor about anything.  Mostly because there’s nothing to lie about.  I’m quite healthy.  Seriously, I am.  Ignore the incredibly expensive heart monitor beeping while I type this.  But never did I think that telling my doctor something could result in the loss of my driver’s license, an occurrence that would actually very much impact my life.  Third, if you work for my firm, trust your gut when you think that physical weakness may be used against you.  Fourth, 21 days is a long time to hide a monitor with multiple wires stuck to your chest and hanging around your waist and I still have 20 more days to go.

September 29, 2009 Posted by Oscar and Etta's mom | Doctor, randomness | 6 Comments