After my triumphant return to the below-10-minute miler club on Monday, I began to have the same kinds of problems that have plagued me in the past and while I made it to work on Monday, I had to leave at about 3:00 and go home, where I spent the rest of the night resting.
("Resting" in my house means "only occassionally giving in to Mr F's demands that I play "Ding-Dong" with him, with Ding-Dong being a game where I pick him up by his arm pits and hug him and then swing him like a bell, while saying "ding dong ding dong" until he gets tired, which takes a while, and "resting" also means that I only spent about 20 minutes playing Guns with Mr Bunches, using his new NERF pistols that I can't believe Sweetie got him because they're so clearly dangerous that she must have been distracted at the time)
When it came time to go work out yesterday morning, I opted to try to sleep in, since I hadn't so much slept the night before, and then when it came time to go to work, I instead opted for a dizzifying drive to the ER, where I was run through the usual series of tests to determine how serious my inability to breathe was this time.
(Their answer: not very serious, in terms of inability to breathe.)
So I spent the day having X-rays taken, and pictures of my heart taken, and a stress test given
(Actual dialogue:
Doctor: So you passed the stress test.
Me: That's because I studied.)
and a student doctor sent in to talk with me for practice -- turns out he used to be a photographer for Sports Illustrated but gave it up to come back, at age 29, to medical school, so there's probably something inspirational in there for someone to latch onto.
And in the end, they decided that it wasn't my heart this time, just like it wasn't my heart last time, and sent me on home with directions to follow up with an entirely new set of doctors
(Actual dialogue:
Doctor: I'd recommend Dr. [Name Redacted]
Me: Is he good?
Doctor: Well, he's funny.)
and now I have agreed with Sweetie that it wouldn't be the least prudent course of action to take a week off of working out, insofar as I somehow passed that stress test despite nearly throwing up during it and having to stop it earlier than they wanted.
So the song for today is Some Nights (Intro), by fun., and it's not the same song you heard the other day if you listen to these.
*While I didn't get to work and I didn't get to work out and I didn't get any closer, really, to finding out why I can't do all those things as regularly as I'd like, I did read a lot of short stories by John Cheever and bought a new book about the Periodic Table Of The Elements, so there's that.
5 comments:
Gawd, medical science can be so annoying. I hope you feel better--as much as possible.
Sorry about the breathing thing. I think when we go to the doctor and tell them that something isn't right on the inside that a little part of them gets all excited and thinks, 'there is an excellent candidate for vivisection.'
When you think of it that way, maybe it's a good thing that they seem so vague and disinterested.
What book did you get about the periodic table? I read one recently, and it was awesome. Something about the Disappearing Spoon. Can't recall the title exactly, but again, awesome.
Yeah, breathing might be important.
Dude! I want to say more than that, but I don't know what. I don't want you to be in ill health, because I -like- you.
I'd say to stop doing whatever it is you're doing to cause it, but, since you don't know, that would be rather pointless.
hope you're feeling better!!
/ :
Post a Comment