Yesterday I went to the heart failure doctor to check in.  I haven’t been since July. He only sees patients on Tuesdays.  It’s usually over an hour wait.  It’s a good thing I don’t work, otherwise I don’t think I’d have time to be sick.  I bided my time in the waiting room talking to my nephew Christopher on the phone and taking selfies of my new glasses.  They’re really cool.  They’re reading glasses called Eyebob’s.  I had prescription lenses put in.  The frames only cost $75.  The lenses, however, cost $500.  It’s expensive to wear glasses.

Finally the nurse called me in.  She’s the check in nurse. She asks me to list all of my medicine, even though they are the ones who prescribe all of it.  She’s supposed to weigh me, but she was too lazy to do that.  She just asked me how much I weighed.  I lied, of course.  Then she took an EKG.  It said that I was having an acute MI. That’s heart attack in layman’s terms.  I asked her if she might not want to go get help.  She agreed.  She stepped out into the corridor and asked someone if we should be worried.  He said no. So we weren’t.  She then asked me where I got my outfit.  I told her in Wimberley.  I’ve had to get all new clothes since I’ve gained weight. She said, what size do you wear.  I told her. She said, no way, that’s what I wear and I weigh XXX (35 pounds more than me, but remember, I lied).  I said way.  She said no way.  We left it at that.

She usually bashes men.  Rick hates her, but Rick wasn’t there this time.  He’s out of town.  He’s in Santa Barbara on business.  I should have been with him, but because the doctor only sees patients on Tuesdays, I couldn’t go.  It’s just as well that Rick wasn’t there, because Magdalena was in a bad mood.  Without Rick there to bash, she complained about the doctors.  I complained about the wait. She said they’re just in it for the money.  I hoped not, but decided to keep my mouth shut.

Dr. Estep finally came in.  He’s too nice to get mad at.  Plus he will some day get me a new heart, so I have to stay on his good side.  I asked him about the EKG.  He said it’s just weird because of my pacemaker.  Whatever.  I didn’t feel like I was having a heart attack, but it was getting a little harder to breathe.

He asked me how I felt.  I told him.  He was particularly impressed that I can walk 2 miles on a treadmill.  No incline.  In air-conditioning. At a snail’s pace.  But he was never the less impressed.  I think I’m like a Ninja Warrior of the heart failure patients.  There should be a reality show.

Since I’m feeling pretty good, he decided not to start all that pre transplant testing.  That’s fine with me.  I figure that by the time I actually need a new heart, we’d have to repeat it anyway.  But I told him that  I would like to know more about what has caused my heart muscle to self destruct.  Also, I want to get some idea of how rapidly it is happening.  Is that too much to ask?

So, we are going to try to establish some baselines and to see if a more accurate diagnosis can be made.  The mother lode of diagnostic tools was the MRI and that was inconclusive because of the shadow cast by my pacemaker.  We’re going to try a biopsy in a couple of weeks. That means another trip to the Cath Lab.  My ninth or tenth.  No biggie.

He also upped some of my medicine and will closely monitor my kidneys and liver.  That means returning to the office to give blood and pee in a cup.  Giving blood samples has become a routine part of my life. I’m a pin cushion.  No biggie.

So, you’re caught up.  I’m still here. I’m functioning fairly normally. It’s all good. Thanks for the prayers and concerns. Maybe we should add Magdalena to the prayer list. She’s not happy.