Heart Update

It's currently 5:35 am. Why do I sit here? That would be because I can't sleep. Actually, I haven't slept since 3:23 am. I've been googling. (Is that a word?)

Left ventricle. Heart dilation. Left ventricular dilation. What does this all mean anyway?

We've spent the past three weeks at doctor offices. It's a change of pace for Courtney to be the patient, and me the moral support.

Only I don't know that I like the role reversal.

You see, I worry.

And I don't know what the heck they're talking about.

I don't like being told by a cardiologist that the stress test results are definitely abnormal. That what he's seeing tells him that if my husband has a heart attack, he won't survive it. That he has no choice but to get an angiogram. That if he chooses not to get an angiogram, he should go home and lie down and take an aspirin a day until he decides to.

I don't like hearing all of this.

I don't like seeing my husband in a hospital gown. Not that he doesn't look cute and little boyish in it. I don't the nurse coming and asking me if I'd like to kiss him goodbye before they take him back. I don't like sitting in the chair next to the hospital bed which my husband is lying in. I'd rather be in it. I don't like worrying about him. I don't like that the same Dr. who scared me a mere six hours earlier has now told the nurse to tell me that in a few more hours we can go home. No more explanation. Don't worry.

Not that I'm not ecstatic that everything looks fine.

But you just said six hours ago that it was not fine! Not fine at all!
(I don't say that, because I never get the chance. Dr. has since disappeared into the hidden recesses of the office, and I have learned that there is no way to get past the nurse to ask the doctor a few questions. No way.)

So, here's the scoop.

There is none.

I have a husband who is having chest pain. He feels like someone is pushing on his chest. He wakes up at night with his heart racing. I've heard three doctors use big words to tell me that something is wrong, and then follow that up by telling me that everything looked fine. Nothing to worry about. I wish they'd make up their minds.

I don't understand them. I have no idea what they're even talking about. But my husband is still having chest pain.

Not to sound too dramatic, (which I know I always am). But I'm a little worried.