Ten days ago, I was prepped and ready to be rolled into the operating room for surgery to remove the cataracts in my right eye when everything came to a screeching halt.
Seems the wires I was hooked up to had given the surgery team the idea that I might be having a heart attack. They were all set to call an ambulance and bundle me off to the emergency room. I insisted I felt fine, and they reluctantly released me into the care of my friend Jean to take me home.
I was pissed. I cussed. I cried. My friend stopped and bought me a special white chocolate raspberry cupcake. It helped a little.
I got in to see my primary care doctor’s nurse practioner the very next day. A second EKG – a test that tracks the beats and electrical impulses of your heart – was also abnormal and she made an immediate referral to a cardiologist.
Between the time I left the doctor’s office on Tuesday of last week and yesterday, when I saw the cardiologist (a delightful man whom I called Dr. B because I couldn’t pronounce his name), I was a bundle of nerves. I fumed and I cried. But I continued to feel fine.
That’s because, while my third EKG in a little over a week also came back abnormal, the cardiologist said it was a benign normal-abnormal and that I had a great heart. It had no blocked arteries and a good beat. The problem was just that one electrical impulse had gone rogue, so to speak.
People who know me sort of said, Duh!
Dr. B wrote a letter to my eye doctor saying I was good to go for my cataract removal – and I go in tomorrow to get the right eye done.
Wish me luck.
Pat Bean is a retired journalist who lives in Tucson with her canine companion, Scamp. She is a wondering-wanderer, avid reader, enthusiastic birder, Lonely Planet Community Pathfinder, Story Circle Network board member, author of Travels with Maggie available on Amazon (Free on Kindle Unlimited), and is always searching for life’s silver lining.
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