So last December I did a medical screening. In fact it was Christmas Eve morning at the ungodly half past eight in the morning (the only slot available apparently) that I had to trudge myself over to the clinic at Ngee Ann City to take advantage of unspent money before year was up. Yes I was kiasu. It was a good 2-3 since a proper medical so I figured the additional effort wouldn't be wasted.
By the start of February I hadn't yet received word about my report. I sent an email and got word back that they had sent me an SMS about collection and a doctor's appointment sometime in January. Well then. Anyway, I set up another meeting and was back at said clinic the following Tuesday.
The lady doctor who saw me asked if the clinic had asked me to come down urgently. I replied no. She then went to explain what triggered her alarms. Apparently, my running treadmill test showed a funny line and they suspected that I had mychardial ischemia in a part of my heart. It's serious apparently. If you look it up, it means a part of heart isn't getting enough oxygen. She went on to cite my higher than average cholesterol count and my ballooning BMI. All else was fine. Well, a fattier liver. The doctor went to recommend a specialist at Mount Elizabeth hospital for an immediate follow-up.
So this blow was delivered to me three odd weeks ago. It's a lot of information to process. Suddenly from the glimmer of post Mayan. apocalypse invincibility, I was pulled into the shallows of death and despair in the form of a cardiac arrest. I overstate.
I called Mount E and asked about the cost of tests related to my suspected condition. A CT angiogram would cost $1600. I called Raffles Hospital and the same scan was quoted at $900. Hello! Who's trying to con the heart patient? A chichi CT at Orchard Rd is almost double that in bourgeois Bugis? Good lord.
I opted for Raffles and met a doctor who showed me a PowerPoint with Khaw Boon Wan and Donald Rumsfled heart troubles.
I did a 2D Echo at the same appointment - that's an ultrasound to check my valves. They went flip flap flip flap. Quite amazing.
My CT scan appointment was a little trouble. On the Monday of my first appointment I declined having the test done that afternoon in favour of going back to work and announcing my medical dilemma to co-workers to lift the burden. I called the hospital two days later to make an appointment and they could only slot me a week later! I was like what the hell?! I could kaput anytime and they could only check me out a week later?! Heavens to Betsy! Santamaria Lady Gaga Maria And The Diamonds! Hakuna Matata! But what could I do but wait.
I turned rabbit and cut meat out for most of the week. I still drank too much on Fridays. I started thinking about oatmeal.
I think the psychological impact of this news was more devastating than the reality. I woke up in the middle of the night a few times. I would wonder if I was having a heart attack and wait to feel if symptoms got worse. One night my left bicep was twitchy and the arm sort of went numb. Yikes! Left arm, heart is on the left, this must be it. I'm a goner! I survived the night and morning. I hit the A&E around noon time. They ECG-ed me and took some blood. I wasn't exactly nervous though. And the results proved inconclusive. I was fine. I did learn that the heart leaks certain detectable enzymes into the bloodstream that allow doctors to predict the onset of a heart attack.
The CT scan went fine though the I was cold under the robe. And the waiting after popping the beta blocker pill was excruciating. 2 hours of just hanging around with my restless heart. The beta blocker got me chillaxed though, because that's what it does. Heart calm, head going nuts and feet cold. A $1000 and half hour later, it was over.
And so we arrive at today, the doctor's visit to expose the truth. I also ate my first bowl of oatmeal this morning. Uurrggggh. The funny doctor called me by my family name which was weird. Smiling, he asked how I was. I replied ok and asked him how he was doing. He said he was smiling because my results were fine. All this in the reception area. The tests revealed I had zero calcified deposits in my arteries. That meant I would have less than a 5% chance of a heart attack in the next 3 years. Over the moon lah. The doctor went to talk about his cycling father and marathon running patient, both of whom earned his displeasure at their over-exertion. He said 20-30 minutes of walking a day is enough. When you knees go however, the inactivity means you have a 50% higher chance of kicking the bucket. Yikes.
We tried out the Azumio heart rate app I downloaded into my iPhone. The app put my heart rate at 64, the manual wrist feel and clock watch method struck 68. The doc gave his thumbs up.
So I'm fine. The doctor asked me to see him in 2 years, a note in my file that confused the receptionist nurse. I hope to never have the need to see him again.
I guess the worst part of this ordeal of sorts was second guessing that the running, walking and yoga wasn't doing me any good. I felt misled, by myself. It was unnecessary. Not that I should now load up the meat and drown in booze or throw away the Omega pills. Being unsure drove me nuts and I shouldn't have bothered. A little bit of faith in oneself goes a long way.
