Down with the Sickness, Pt.3

Following the appendectomy/penis torture on Tuesday, I actually went back to work on Friday. I just had to have some semblance of normal again. Well, let me rephrase that by saying that by no means where I work is normal, but I've been there so long that it's a familiar routine. Besides, there was little chance of someone holding me down for a catheterization.

{The silence of the waiting room. Good times.}

On Monday, I had to go back to the hospital for a CTA scan. This had previously been scheduled in July and the hospital had given me the runaround, wasting three hours of my time and generally leaving a a heavy reluctance to reschedule. My wife, in her infinite wisdom, insisted that I call the cardiologist and insist on a redo. Because I wanted to avoid all hospitals at all costs, she called the cardiologist's office, raising hell, and in turn, the cardiologist's secretary got angry at the hospital for telling me that my orders were not correct and I was there at the wrong time.

My CTA was scheduled for 5 AM. Luckily (again) I live within walking distance and so getting there is no hassle for me.

My wait was short and soon a nurse was escorting me to the back. She was impossibly cute, of course, and smart enough to engage in decent conversation. She even laughed at some of my remarks. Not easy at this unholy hour. We did the usual vitals, weigh in and talky talk about meds, family history and medical history. All standard and boring stuff made somewhat easier because of her sweetness.

Now, it's time to insert an IV, don the gown and slide into ze hole. It looks like a huge half donut with a sliding tray. Basically, that's it/ Mine had the name brand of Philips. Not sure what that means, but perhaps Philip-Morris has some hidden sponsorship. Who knows.

I have done one of these before and they are not scary. What is slightly disturbing is the contrast that is used to really highlight the secrets of the heart.

This special injection makes you feel as though you have suddenly dipped into an overheated hot tub beginning with your brain, down through your chest and then suddenly you feel like you are pissing yourself. Yep. They even tell you that. In politer terms, of course.

The donut hole procedure done, you must hang out with cute nurse for a half an hour to make sure you don't have a reaction to the dye. Evidently, I don't have any bad reactions to any drugs except beef, candy, cookies and all the fucking tasty things in the food world. Drugs? He's ok. Food? Watch that man.

Needless to say, it was easy exchanging pleasantries with Nurse Cute and we even shared some personal information. My dad-heart disease. Her dad-same.

Then came my favorite part: time to get discharged. I went home and thought no more of the thing.

Three days pass and at work, my cardiologist's secretary call. Now, this is unusual in so many, many ways. I thought that her secretary never answered her phone and never returned calls.

"Dr. N wants to do a heart cath on Monday."
"Monday??!!"
"Yes, she wants to schedule on for Monday."
"Does she know I just got out for an appendectomy."
"I'll find out and call you back."

With a speed that I had never seen, she calls back and says that she still wants to do the cath.

This can't be good, dudes.

And it wasn't.

More of the bad stuff to follow.