It's kinda freaky how the moment you think you have something, you start developing all the symptoms. I mean think about it. If you think you're sick, what's the first thing you do? You place your hand on your forehead, and swear to anyone within earshot that it's 10 degrees warmer than it normally is.
I think there's a CNN story from a couple of years back where a woman was convinced that she had conceived immaculately. Her tummy started expanding, she had the glowing skin, the morning nausea, her belly button went from an innie to an outie, ate anchovies with pickles, and all that other great pregnancy stuff. The thing is, she wasn't really pregnant; she just convinced her brain that she was, so she was going through all the same hormonal changes - baby bump of fat and all.
So that's what happened to me. No, not the fake pregnancy thing. The whole generating symptoms thing.
The moment I found out that I might have mitral valve prolapse, I started freaking out. And then I was convinced that I could physically feel my blood leaking backward from my left ventricle to my left atrium, which, though possible, is impossible to feel. I started checking my pulse every five minutes, convinced that it was sky-high and irregular. I started feeling faint randomly throughout the day, and when I went to the gym and couldn't run more than a mile, I was positive that my shortness of breath was due to my heart problem.
And whenever I had my stethoscope on me, I would listen to my heart, positive that my mitral valve leaflet was thickening by the second, making my murmur get progressively louder. The thing is, word got around, and more and more people approached me with stethoscopes, eager to hear my murmur. The best part was during our Physical Examination Skills class, two of my classmates grabbed a teaching stethoscope - it has the same diaphragm, but two people can listen at the same time.
"Oh man!!! Did you hear that CLICK?!!"
"Holy crap...Michelle - don't die please."
Those are words everyone wants to hear: "Don't die please."
So the thing is, I didn't make the call last week. I didn't call and blackmail the doctor into giving me an echocardiogram. Instead, I just emailed her, along with about five different people - the cardiology fellowship director, my PBL preceptor, my college mentor, and a random cardiology lecturer that we had in class on Friday. My emails to all of them were along the same lines. Omg, I'm dying. Do you know anyone or any studies that would able to assess my heart condition via an echocardiogram? Omg, did I mention that I'm dying? Sudden cardiac death is a complication! Please respond!
My emails were like Dawson's Creek scripts. Full of big words that I can't really define, and a lot of whining, pleading, and angst. Lots of angst.
A couple of days went by and I heard nothing from anyone. I was just about ready to take out a second mortgage on my parents' house to pay for it, because after all - what do you have if you don't have your health, right? - when I got an email from someone I hadn't even contacted in the first place.
"Hello. Please meet me at the hospital at 11:30AM in Room 220. This is regarding your echo needs."
Talk about cryptic. But I'm not one to look a gift horse in its mouth, so I picked up my schoolbag and went to the designated spot at 11:30AM. Put on the gown I was given. And I got my echocardiogram, courtesy of my fabulous professors who somehow found a glitch in The System so that I could get a free exam.
Good news. There's absolutely nothing wrong with my heart.
Three failed relationships later, it turns out that my heart isn't broken. In fact, it's perfectly healthy. The cardiologist, who ended up explaining the findings to me, couldn't find a single thing wrong with my heart. Not a single thing. There wasn't even evidence of a little something wrong.
"Looks like you've got a good heart. Literally."
"Well, I like to think that I'm a good-hearted person."
I could have sat there and exchanged heart puns all day, but she had actual patients to attend to, and I couldn't stop squeeing with excitement over my completely normal, unfascinating heart.
Now I just wonder what my classmates and I were listening to these past two weeks. Did we all just make up the huge whooshing sound? The click? The irregular heart beat? It's a conundrum, all right.
3 years ago
