…surgery. My open heart surgery.
Yup, that is what is in my future. A triple bypass of some sort. At some future date. they are going to crack my sternum and install stents in my heart to get around some very dangerously narrow arteries.
Yippy fucking skippy.
Let’s go back to the beginning.
Had my angiogram today. It was fine. Not particularly painful or uncomfortable or weird. The worst part was being bored out of my mind afterward.
I brought a book but I was too agitated to read it. Damn it. And I was also too agitated to relax into my “hospital mode” where I am mostly asleep but still awake enough to answer questions and do stuff when asked.
So all I could do was sit there and be bored. That was highly unpleasant. Would not recommend. Zero out of five stars.
It was possibly the after-effects of the sedative they gave me during the procedure. My sedation might have led to withdrawal once the angiogram was done.
Of course, the fact that I was extremely hungry didn’t help.
As usual for things medical, I was not allowed to ear beforehand. This led to me going ten hours without eating, and that put me in a lousy mood.
Which was only made worse when I had to ask the nurses three fucking times before they gave me a lousy cheese sandwich.
This has happened before when I was in the hospital. The nurses do not want to fetch food for me. Is it because I am fat and they subconscious think I don’t “need” it? Or is it that they are too proud to serve food like some common waitress?
Either way, it pisses me off. I am freaking diabetic. Going too long without food could kjill me. They should take the issue a bit more seriously, god damn it.
Anyhow, the nurse looking after me was nice though her Latin American accent caused communication issues in the context of a noisy hospital.
In fact, I dealt with a lot of accents, no two the same. Another nurse was Pilipino, the orderly who scrubbed and shaved my wrist and crotch was Mexican (and kept calling me Boss, giving me Fantasy Island flashbacks), the sexy French Canadian doctor overseeing everything had a sexy French Canadian accent, and so on.
I love the variety but it makes for a lot of work to understand what I am being told.
The procedure itself, like I said, was fine. They had me on exactly the right amount of sedative to keep me calm without making me too sleepy to stay awake or too groggy to follow their instructions.
Works for me. Got the benefit without the irritating side effects.
The conclusion drawn for the test results is that I need that surgery. Which is a bummer to be sure. And scary.
But right now, I am far too glad to be done with the god damned thing to worry about the future. Now I can finally relax for a bit.
Hopefully the wait list for open heart surgery is nice and long.
More after the break.
I wish I didn’t know
Wishing I had remained ignorant is a thought that I, being the rugged intellectual that I am, almost never think.
All knowledge is power, after all. I keep my mind open even in the coldest weather. Dedication to the truth allows for no rejection of facts.
And so on.
And yet, here I am, openly admitted that I wish I had not learned what I learned today.
And I think I can make a pretty good case that I was better off not knowing.
OK, so, part of the post-procedure instructions for my angiogram was to make appointments with my GP and my cardiologist.
So I called up Doctor Chao’s office. He would call back in an hour. Spiffing.
Then I called the office of Doctor Ebti, who is my cardiologist, and the one who ordered today’s angiogram[1] and next week’s heart ultrasound.
I wanted to make an appointment with her, but when I told the receptionist I had just had the angiogram that day, she laughed and said she wouldn’t be getting the results for two weeks at minimum.
Now just step back and stare gobsmacked at the sheer mind-thumping stupidity of that. Why the fuck would it take her two weeks to get a copy of a document I was holding in my hand as I spoke with her? In this day and age??
I could mail it there faster than that!
She actually suggested I drop by and give it to her. Which I will probably do on Monday, sight. Haven’t these people heard of the fax machine?
Speaking of said document, I had my copy of it my hand when I talked to Doctor Chao. Originally, I had just planned to give him a quick update, but I figured while I had him on the phone, I would read it out to him.
Bad move, as it turned out.
The pivotal moment came when he explained that on the diagram of my heart’s blood vessels that was part of the chart, the numbers represented the percentage of blockage of blood flow.
And I had one spot that was at 80 percent.
And three spots that were 90 percent, all in a tight cluster.
Suddenly my situation seems far, far more dire. If anything at all happens to those 90 percent spots, boom, heart attack.
No take backs. No more second chances. No do-overs.
Boom, I’m dead. Or at least severely fucked up.
And while I am ambivalent about death, I am definitely not ambivalent about pain and suffering and really awful shit happening to me.
So I am going to be super extra careful to take it easy for the time being. No more exercise to raise my heart rate. No more bouncing around the apartment as I make my meals. And definitely no more doing my own supermarket shopping.
I will have to order my stuff online for the time being.
Dunno what I am going to do about my insane blood sugar levels now. I guess all I can hope for is that Doctor Craswell and I will find the right chemical solution.
Because the boat has kind of sailed on fixing it with lifestyle, and that leaves chemicals and diet, and I can cut back my diet more no problem.
But I strongly feel that will not be enough.
Looks like my health issues have finally hit the big time, like I knew they would.
And I am goddamned terrified. My pulse is racing just thinking about it.
Which is bad for my heart.
Which is why I would have been better off not knowing.
So like…. QED, I guess.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.