Double Doctor Day, Part One

On Friday, I had two important doctor visits.

Here's why I say, Dealing with these multiple health issues is more complicated than it looks.

The first appointment was at 7 am. Stress test, completely fasting since midnight. That's tricky right there: fasting usually means I have to leave the house without taking my morning meds.

Synthroid can wait. But without Prednisone, Benadryl, and guaifenesin, I leave the house less protected against allergies and congestion.

Going without anti-inflammatories means more pain; same for Protonix, because stomach acid eats me alive. Without acyclovir (anti-viral for the disseminated HSV-1), the fever-sickness spikes. No Prozac or Xanax leaves me subject to those big fast biochemical changes that produce things like panic attacks. Neurotransmitters can be profoundly and immediately impacted by an allergic response.

So fasting for tests and procedures isn't my favorite thing to do.

The stress test team at my wonderful cardiologist's is a sweet, expert, hard-working bunch. Excellent teamwork. Each doctor in the practice has their own Stress Test day, where they line up their patients that need the test, and process us one by one as the doc pays close attention to it all. My doc's day is Fridays.

They got an IV in me on the first try. I always thank 'em for that. This one took a little digging and repositioning and shoving around, but hey, it was still one stick, and it held. They wrapped it up good and tight when they were done.

They plastered a whole bunch of leads on me next. The glues are a lot less allergenic these days, but still, they'll often leave a circular red allergic rash for weeks afterward. Colorful.

Now: Go in that waiting room, drink a full cup of water, and wait.

Ok. No problem.

Until the next patient in line walked in. She looked like a perfectly nice lady.

But she was absolutely reeking of a hugely sickening perfume.

Now, I'm not talking about personal taste here. I'm allergic to lots of stuff that I really love. God, I had to go an entire year without garlic once. That's one of the few times I cried, when I saw what that garlic skin test did. 1994, that was.

The perfume thing has actually gotten better the last year or so. So I wasn't really prepared for this like I used to be. I'd left my pesticide mask in the car. You know, the NIOSH kind, with the canisters? I really hate wearing that thing in public. It makes you look like a giant bug.

The second she walked in the door I knew what was about to happen. I held my breath, gathered up my canes and bag, finished my water - still holding my breath - and hobbled out the door as quick as I could.

I nearly passed out before I could sit far enough away to breathe.

I could feel my face doing that thing Walter notices - I still don't know what this looks like, because the people who see it can never really describe it very well. It means trouble. I got cold clammy sweat, and dizzy and unbalanced. Shaky. And that horrible emotional hit that brings me from perfectly calm and cheerful to viciously depressed and tearful and afraid in the space of a minute or two.

These are not what many people would consider symptoms of an allergy attack. But that's exactly what they are.

I tried to call one of the team over and explain what happened. This is hard. I can't talk very well during these episodes. I can't think straight and the words don't come out. I wanted to tell them, Get me away from that person, please, please, and don't make me go home, I don't want to reschedule. Please finish this test somewhere away from her, don't put me in the same room or make me walk by that door again, ok?

It was really difficult to make them understand. I can't fault them a bit, of course. They got me a chair right away, sat me farther away, but weren't sure what I meant about the rest of it, or how urgent it was. They offered me a surgical mask. That's useless. But it was a good thought.

I think they must have talked to the cardiologist. She knows all about it. At my appointment a few weeks ago, my first heart check-up for a couple years (scold scold), she didn't recognize me without the mask. She was THRILLED to see me without it, kept saying how great I looked. Ha! This is what I get for feeling so smug.

They solved the rest of the problem by keeping the perfume lady out of the testing rooms I'd be in until mine were all done. Get me out asap, and home to my safe air.

What a relief.

So. After the drink of water and a little wait, you get a series of pictures of your heart. They show what your heart looks like at rest. You lie down on a narrow bed, and this camera assembly over you moves slowly around your heart, from right to left, taking pictures from different angles.

Then you get stressed.

Since I can't walk much, I don't do the treadmill. Instead, they put this drug in your IV that makes your heart race. They push some in, watch the monitors, push some more, till your pulse and blood pressure are high enough. They were aiming for a 147 pulse.

Once there, they inject a radioactive dye, a "tracer," in your IV. Since your heart is kicking and pounding, it pushes the tracer into areas that will show what your heart looked like while it raced.

Neat trick, huh?

Back you go for more pix, and you're all done.

I'd asked them to please ask the perfume lady, nicely, not to wear perfume to a medical office. See, lots of times, there's sick people there. Perfume isn't good for them. Even if they aren't allergic they may have emphysema or something. This is not a date.

But I don't know if they did.