Take Preventive Measures to Heart
It’s funny how things work out.
Three years ago, during a routine visit to our longtime family doctor, he performed an exam I hadn’t had in a while. Maybe that’s why he did it.
He found a nodule on my prostate, assured me it was going to be OK, and wrote a referral to a urologist.
Already panicked, it really ramped up when it seemed to take forever to get an appointment (Medical facilities still were backed up from putting non-emergency procedures on hold during COVID).
As such, I also couldn’t get in for the biopsy for several weeks. During this time, my blood pressure, already on the high side, began to skyrocket. Our GP put me on a low dose of blood pressure medication and referred me to a cardiologist.
Seeing I hadn’t had a stress test – other than life – in a few years, the cardiologist set me up for that and an echocardiogram.
Both were clear. I even surprised the techs by finishing the stress test on the treadmill. No blockages; heart was in good shape.
I was a little off put when the cardiologist’s office said he still wanted to see me every six month. Keep an eye on blood pressure and that kind of thing. OK. When you’re in your 60s, you never know when the check engine light is gonna come on.
Oh, and thankfully, the nodule was benign.
Jump ahead to this year. We already had lost my father-in-law in January; then came home to find out water heater sprung a leak and was damaging our laminate flooring in the attached room.
So, naturally when I saw the cardiologist – who said we’d do another stress test in three years – he told me it was time for another one. He said everything sounded good when checking from the outside.
I had no symptoms other than the higher blood pressure. My GP already had put me on a low dose of cholesterol meds since my bad cholesterol wasn’t good enough, and my good cholesterol never has been great.
I was scheduled for a PET stress test, which takes an even closer look at the blood flow to your heart. Unfortunately, it also meant I had to do the chemical test instead of the treadmill.
That would have been more fine if I hadn’t heard so many stories about how that chemical can make your heart race like an Indy car.
But, after several days of anxiety, it was a breeze. I felt practically nothing, and it took only an hour. Tammy and I celebrated by having cheeseburgers and milkshakes at Top Notch in Beverly. I hadn’t been there in some 40 years. Still great.
I was relieved the stress test was so easy. Some, even the evil Google, said that may be a good sign for no blockages.
Nope. Got a call from the cardiologist’s office. The test showed some minor blockage in one artery, and moderate in another. They wouldn’t know how much, she said, until they did an angiogram.
I do some side work for a local hospital, so I was familiar with an angiogram. Of course, that didn’t mean I didn’t stress about it for the 10 days or so waiting for the appointment we scheduled.
No one sounded panicked. No one said get in here right now, as my GP’s office said late one Friday evening 17 years ago when a CAT scan showed my colon light up like the Vegas strip. Temporary colon bypass for three months. All good.
While on the table during the angiogram, I was asked how I was doing. Gonna shave here just in case. Gonna take blood here. Gonna put in the mild sedative.
Now and then, I would groggily ask how things were going. The cardiologist said things were going great, and I was doing fine. As I was being wheeled out, I heard him mention stent.
I knew that was a possibility. And it would have been a little easier to take had he not later said “the widowmaker” was 96 percent blocked. All the others were fine. Blood was flowing properly now. And, luckily, he said, there was no damage to my heart.
Put me on a blood thinner and sent me home a few hours later with orders not to lift anything heavier than a milk jug for three to five days. Come back in a couple weeks for a checkup.
For the next few days, the heavy lifting I did was mental. “Holy cow! No symptoms! What if …”
Then, my friend, Mike, said to stop thinking like that and be glad all this will show people I do have a heart after all.
As I negotiated the blood thinner side effects, my thoughts – i.e., anxiety – morphed into, “What now? Am I OK? I feel OK, but I felt OK before.”
Actually, I might have a little more stamina, if not energy. I am taking to, well, heart, the dietitian’s recommendations for heart-healthy eating, and I am looking forward to starting cardio therapy.
Your outlook has a lot to do with your overall health. I could look at all of this as “Poor me, what next?”
Or, “What’s next? I have excellent doctors who look out for me, and wonderful family and friends who support me.”
So, what I mean to say by “It’s funny how things work out,” is “Thank you, Lord, for these blessings.”
P.S. Don’t wait until you have symptoms. There are fast heart scans out there for under $50. Men — and women — get checked out. Don’t assume.
It can make all the difference in “What’s next?”
Nick Reiher is editor of Farmers Weekly Review.