Last weekend I was enjoying the fine weather, taking washing off the line, when I got a crushing pain in my chest, my heart started racing and I felt dizzy. This had actually happened in the wee hours of Monday morning and I had, like the stubborn person I am, decided to ignore it. On Saturday I decided not to ignore it, and took myself off to the doctor, leaving Andrew saying 'I told you to go earlier ...'. Doc took one look at me, ran an ECG and then told me I had a heart murmur and a possible blockage on the right side of my heart. Naturally I got a bit of a shock.
I got even more of a shock when he said he wanted me to go to hospital right away for further tests. Kids got dumped next door, and Andrew turned up and took me to RPA. Clearly there is nothing wrong with my heart, because if there had been, that place would have killed me. We've spent lots of time in hospitals (what with Phoebe's 102 days in neo-natal intensive care, and my predeliction for emergency surgery) , but this wins hands-down as a surreal and hideous experience. The doctor who eventually saw me looked like Pippi Longstocking on drugs, and had such a strong Austrian accent that I only understood about one word in ten. After five hours sitting in a hallway with old codgers on ambulance stretchers, I was informed by Pippi Drugstocking that I was fine and maybe I had heartburn. Her written diagnosis was 'chest pain'. How tremendously reassuring.
So next week I have to go and see a specialist. It will be highly embarrassing if they say I have indigestion. But better than being told I have a heart problem. Fingers crossed.
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1 comment:
I told you so I told you so. You don't mess around the chest pain, even if it is indigestions - which i'm sure your's is.
Even so, Dr Drugstocking was weird.
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