What to do if you are not having a heart attack
March 3rd, 2006
I go to bed on Wednesday night feeling a little ehhh. Nothing specific, just ehhh. By morning, I am feeling a little more ehhh. I get the girls where they need to go, and the ehhh factor ramps up a notch. On my way to meet a friend at the coffee shop, I have the unpleasant realization that the ehhh is coming from my chest.
My chest is heavy. Not to be confused with my heavy bosoms, which are a very different breed of heavy. This ehhh is a bad, bad heavy. Very uncomfortable heavy. There is a bit of pain and when I try to figure out which way it’s going, I realize it’s going down my left arm.
But I don’t want to be rude, even if I am having a heart attack. My nice friend will be waiting for me at the coffee shop. So I make a pit stop at the pharmacy, where I seize a box of St. Joseph’s chewable 81mg aspirin tablets ($4.99) and an even larger box of E-Mer-Gen-C Heart Health black-cherry–flavored dissolving fizzy powder packets ($17.99) full of lycopene and other things I have never heard of. I am hoping my Fizzy Lifting Drink will end this episode of When Hearts Attack so I can enjoy a nice latte with my friend. I have a lot of work to do this week, and a heart attack would be terribly inconvenient.
I bolt from the pharmacy, sit on some steps, and tear into the aspirin, crunching down four. Then I hurry over to the coffee shop, trying to ignore the worsening ehhh and left arm pain.
“Are you getting something?” my friend wants to know.
I decide that if I am going to die, I should go down looking health-conscious. “I’ll have an herbal tea,” I say.
My friend looks at me strangely. I don’t want to alarm her, so I tell her I am just feeling dehydrated. Maybe I am dehydrated. I have seen dehydrated apple rings, and they are not all that far off from what my eye sockets and surrounding skin look like in the a.m.
I put my herbal tea on our table. Now I am positive I am dying, because I am having palpitations and it feels like an ape is sitting on my chest and my left arm is doing a very bad thing, its own version of the ehhh.
I ask my friend if she thinks I could be having a heart attack. She looks confused. All I have done is order an herbal tea instead of a latte, and it didn’t look all that taxing.
I show her the contents of my pharmacy bag and explain the ehhh to her. I have just spent nearly $25 on heart-attack prevention products. My friend is trying not to laugh. She is a very nice friend. I can tell that she wants to tell me that I am not having a heart attack, to cheer me up, but she is on the fence about the whole thing.
I get some water and dump two packets of Fizzy Heart Health into it and guzzle it down. “But enough about me,” I say.
Now we are both convinced I am having a heart attack, so she sends me to the doctor.
I do not like going to the doctor. But I do not want to be like my father, who really really really doesn’t like the doctor and avoided going to the doctor for twenty years, so I try to be brave even though I feel very stupid.
The receptionist says what receptionists say, which is, “Yes?” I want to say, “No,” and turn around and leave with my bad chest and bad arm and go die in the parking lot where people will not notice me until I have checked out completely and can’t see them pointing and staring at my bosoms, which I always imagine will fall out of my shirt at the exact moment of my death.
But instead I say, “Um, I know this is going to sound really dumb, but I’m having some strange chest discomfort, um, and my left arm hurts—”
She is on it. If you are in a bank, you say, Give me all your money in a bag. If you are in a doctor’s office, you say, Strange chest discomfort, left arm hurts and you will get pretty much the same effect.
She is tapping her keyboard frantically to see who can see me. I am hoping for one of the anonymous urgent-care doctors, who take anxious anonymous walk-ins.
“Your primary-care physician is in, and he can see you right now,” she says.
“Really?” I say. “Because I’m not picky.”
I have already seen my new primary-care physician three times in the past three and a half weeks, and we are not off to great start. This is all my fault, as at our first visit I was stammering and making too many stupid jokes and then forgot to tell him about some medication I was on and then remembered to tell him but by then I was blushing furiously and was sure I was coming across as dodgy and evasive and disturbed and so then tried a whole new round of stupid jokes. Throughout the whole debacle, my doctor leaned against the sink and studied me as if I were a rare and diseased Galapagos seal that someone found on a Berkshire ski slope.
A fourth visit in three and a half weeks with this man will not do wonders for my self-esteem or credibility. I consider slipping out the blood lab emergency exit but that would involve walking past phlebotomists and their evil blue rubber tourniquets, the sight of which brings me to my knees. So I sit still in the waiting room and will my heart to stop ehhhing. No go.
The nurse comes and whisks me to the exam room. She takes my blood pressure. Normal. She takes my pulse. I try not to pass out. I do not like people fondling my pulse. But it is normal. Then she tells me to take my shirt and bra off and put one of those slinky cotton-sheet robes on. She leaves. I put on the robe. Now I know I am going to die, because my bosoms are falling out. I shift gears and will my heart to give out quickly so I can get the hell out of Dodge before I can see the doctor and the nurse staring at my bazoombas.
Again, no go.
The nurse comes back and I have not died, so she is polite and tries not to look at my breasts as she sticks bits of poster-putty all over them and presses EKG wires into the little globs. The whole time she does this, I say things like Isn’t that interesting and I feel really stupid, would you feel stupid? and I can’t be the only person who came in here for something like this. She is kind and nods at whatever I say, a little too emphatically, as if I really am a rare and diseased Galapagos seal, but one who speaks English and is about to die a horrible painful death, and she wants to keep me as calm as possible.
The actual EKG takes all of three seconds, and she tells me I can put my clothes back on. She looks at the EKG printout, frowns, then says, I don’t read these, you know, but the doctor will talk to you about it and pushes the EKG machine from the room as if she is serving dim sum.
I am very very twitchy when my doctor arrives. I try not to make stupid jokes, and he makes this possible by cutting me off at the pass. “So what’s going on?” is what he says sternly as he’s walking in the room. I am grateful that he has left me no time for my special brand of small and insipid talk.
I tell him what is going on, about the ehhh in my chest and in my left arm.
He picks up the EKG readout and studies it. “This all looks fine. Except—” He squints at the printout. “—except the computer is telling me that you had a previous infarction.”
“The computer is telling you I had a heart attack? At one point? A heart attack that I missed?” This is novel, if disturbing, information.
He puts the paper down. “I don’t buy it. I think the computer is wrong on this one.”
“Really? Are we allowed to think that way?” I ask.
He ignores this and checks me out with his doctor kit. He asks some good questions about family members dropping dead at age 40, then tells me that, though he tends to be conservative about these things, he just doesn’t think I’ve got enough risk factors or symptoms to send me to the hospital.
I like this finding, because I like hospitals even less than I like doctors’ offices, but then he says, “Just go home and take a hot bath.”
When your doctor tells you to go home and take a hot bath, you know you are a raging hypochondriac. And the only thing to do as a raging hypochondriac in this situation is to deny being a raging hypochondriac. Which I do. Vehemently. “You know, I swear I’m not a hypochondriac. I’m normally very healthy. I don’t even like doctors. I mean, visiting doctors. I mean, I like you, but I don’t like, you know. What goes on here. I’m not a hypochondriac.”
He smiles cautiously. “Of course you’re not,” he says, then hurries from the room, leaving me with my heaving hypochondriac bosoms.
I slink past the receptionist, who looks a little disappointed that I did not die, and go to my car. I still feel very ehhh, and I am still convinced that death is imminent. In fact, now I want to die, just to prove to my doctor that I am not a hypochondriac. So I go to the food co-op because people there will notice if I drop dead, and I don’t even care about them seeing my bosoms, because they wear Birkenstocks and have magnetic peace signs on their cars, and I feel safe with them.
But I keep on living, so I wind up buying $105 of organic bok choy in case I continue to keep on living when I get home and need to feel like I’ve made a lifestyle change.
I am afraid to die at home, because it will scare the dogs and the children, so I stall by taking my bok choy to the paint store. I peruse yellows and rub my left arm. Periodically, I slap my sternum, sort of a Junior Varsity CPR move to keep things ticking in there.
As I buy some Benjamin Moore paint samples, I wonder if I should position myself to pass out forward, onto the counter, or backwards, more dramatically, into the paint roller display. I aim for the counter, less mess for everyone.
But we seal the deal at the cash register with no death on my part.
When I get home, I am still alive. I am going to have to switch primary-care doctors.
When David gets home later, I am up on the stepladder, swabbing Weston Flax and Windham Cream on the wall above the blue cabinets and holding on to the ladder with my aching left arm. My heart likes the Weston Flax better, but my arm is telling me to go for the Windham Cream.
“What did the doctor say?” David wants to know.
“He told me to take a bath,” I say.
But today I’m pretty sure I have glaucoma.
Entry Filed under: Uncategorized, Time-out. (General insanity), See Mommy laugh. (Favorites)
52 Comments
1. Nancy | March 3rd, 2006 at 2:34 pm
cannot… laugh… at… near… death… story….. ah, heck. BWAHAHAHAHA! Galapagos seal! Dehydrated apples! Bok choy!
But don’t get me wrong, I am glad you’re OK (except for the glaucoma) and that you still have your bosoms.
2. Mom101 | March 3rd, 2006 at 2:37 pm
You are not a hypochondriac. Google “anxiety attack” - I’ve been there, and probably half of your readers as well. Although for me, it was a stroke, freshman year in college. Oh yeah, I was going to be a healthy 18 year old stroke victim, no question.
Amazing how you’re able to keep your humor and perspective amidst all this. Brava.
3. the Mater | March 3rd, 2006 at 2:51 pm
It would have been cheaper if the doc just admitted you to the hospital :>) Were you trying to prove the adage: Shop ’til I drop?!
LOL, if you can read this small print, you’ve beaten the glaucoma too!
4. Simon | March 3rd, 2006 at 3:03 pm
Ah, Bazoombas. Froufyhoohas and Hoojackapiffies.
Now the trifecta is complete. (Except that there’s normally a pair of bazoombas. Problematic.)
Hope you finish the paint job before you keel over.
:)
PS — my wife is at 3 centimetres and in the early stages of labour as I write this.
5. Lisa | March 3rd, 2006 at 3:04 pm
okay well I would want to know what the hell the Ehhhhh was…..what was it??? And how are you feeling now?
6. JustLinda | March 3rd, 2006 at 3:11 pm
I feel SO awful laughing at your heart attack like this!!
I had a fake heart attack once, but mostly I have anyurisms (not that I know how to spell them, I just know how to have them). Brain anyurisms, to be specific.
But DAMN that was funny….. junior varsity CPR…. hahahah
(oh, and I made stupid jokes at doctor’s visits too, in fact I make stupid jokes pretty much everywhere and then I apologize for them and stutter)
7. Sami Zahringer | March 3rd, 2006 at 3:21 pm
Hope you’re feeling better. When I was pregnant I convinced myself I had caught the Hanta virus, which is a rare hemhorragic disease spread by mice IN THE DESERT. But we had been going through a hot dry spell and I had opened a can of soup which had a mysterious dust on the top I just KNEW were mouse droppings from a warehouse somewhere. I dumped the soup and washed my hands and ate an apple. But what if I had not washed my hands carefully enough? I was sure I had crunched on something a wee bit gritty when eating my apple. If in doubt, research on the internet. I went to only reputable sites and learned I had contracted the Hanta virus and both me and my unborn twins were in desperate danger.
Thus began a flurry of sobbing phonecalls to my doctors (and also a vet - the same one I had called the previous month when I thought I might have caught Toxoplasmosis from the cat, who, after testing, turned out never to have had it.)
Their reassurances (I think the odds of my having Hanta virus were several million to one or something) failed to reassure. And an anxious week followed, while I waited for the bleeding to start in my ears which would indicate my imminent demise.
I hope this makes you feel better. I hope you feel better anyway.
8. karina | March 3rd, 2006 at 3:33 pm
My grandfather used to say that he wanted “I told you I was sick” carved in his tombstone. But seriously, it IS really frustrating when doctors tell you you’re fine when you know that there is SOMETHING amiss.
I hope you feel better really soon. Keep those bazoombas in your shirt, and do not go gentle into that good night. After all, you don’t want to have to pal around with the ghostly orb.
9. 21stCenturyMom | March 3rd, 2006 at 4:05 pm
I make no apologies for laughing at your story because I’m sure you put some thought into making it funny. It worked.
I’m glad you were not having a heart attack but I wouldn’t be so quick to let the doc write off whatever he saw. I mean, come on - if he saw something he needs to run the test again, not go into denial. The story of how poorly the medical industry has handled heart disease in women is very hot right now - doesn’t that guy read the paper??!!! geez!
I also had heart issues once when I was under a lot of stress. My heart would go on these dancing sprees where it would unexpectedly transition from lub, dub, lub, dub, lub dub to bang, bang, bang, kablam, bablam, bang, bang, bang, kablam, kablam. I was sure I was going to die. The HMO gave me a little credit card sized thing to hold hover my heart and press a button then wait for 10 seconds when this happened. I was then instructed to call a number, tell them I needed to download my heartbeats and hold the thing to the phone. Of course these episodes always happened at work, in the middle of meetings and I couldn’t exactly whip up my shirt and get a good recording. Anyhow, they told me I was fine and once I quit that job so I was.
Perhaps you are having opening night jitters? Break a leg! no worries.
10. Eve | March 3rd, 2006 at 4:15 pm
Holy hell! It would have been a crying shame if you had died before you got a chance to blog about your experience, because I think this was the most hilarious post I’ve ever read!
I started to pee myself a bit when you said, “But enough about me..” and then again when you hoped you would die to prove you weren’t a hypochondriac. Oh my GOD! So much funny!
You are a comedic genius.
Enjoy the bok choy.
11. Imperfect Mommy | March 3rd, 2006 at 4:21 pm
OK… so I am a RAGING hypochondriac who is banned from WebMD and all others. Last year when I was under a lot of stress, I started getting the “ehh” and having palipitations and skipped beats. I was 32 and had no history that would have led me down that path. Went in for the EKG and it was fine. Bloodwork fine. Still happening. They did an echocardiogram. It was fine. In fact, my dr. said it was the shortest report he has ever seen (a good thing). They did a 24 hour holter monitor and I even had the palipitations while it was on. They saw them in the read out but it was completely normal. I finally ask the tech why it was happening. His answer, “oh, it’s stress. your readouts are great. often times with people who have anxiety and panic, you get these symptoms.” And guess what, after I quit my job and some of my stress eased, it all went away. (seems to be a common theme here)
You can’t be such a talented and creative person (writer, with her own play opening) and not be somewhat of a freak inside. I know that for a fact. Sorry. You are opening your play, have two kids, are remodeling your house, plus many other things that I am sure I have no idea about. My standard test always is “if I were to have a few glasses of wine right now, would I still be feeling this way?” and the answer is usually no.
Besides, don’t you think all that painting could have strained your chest and shoulder muscles???
12. w.o.p.d. | March 3rd, 2006 at 4:22 pm
This is just as funny as you trying to poop out Hattie!
Simon - how cool! Shouldn’t you be at the HOSPITAL (or in some birthing tub)?
13. MR | March 3rd, 2006 at 4:33 pm
Hoo Boy, you are funny, but feeling like you are having a heart attack and getting sent home to take a hot bath makes your doctor an incompetent. Even if he had good evidence that whatever it was wasn’t a heart attack, the other possible explanations are not nuthin’. Acid reflux mimics heart attack symptoms quite closely (including the arm pain) when it is severe enough, and also tends to be worse under stress. It is not life threatening, but can be easily treated with antacids. Recurrent reflux which is untreated over long time periods can damage your esophagus in ways that make it difficult to swallow your food when you get older. (I’ve got a dad and a husband with the symptoms and the reflux.) So try strong antacids for relief, and for our sake, dump your doctor and get one who knows his butt from a hole in the ground. Or who at least laughs at your jokes.
14. corymack aka | March 3rd, 2006 at 4:42 pm
there are little little tiny muscles that reportedly hold your ribs together…and when strained they feel almost EXACTLY like a heart attack….and perhaps in your painting/scraping exertions you’ve injured the little muscle…I did this - still don’t know how…but at the time I was smokin’ and scared the shite (and smokes) right outta me…there is nothing but time that will heal the teeny tiny muscle by the by - but I agree a 2nd test is in order - especially when the machine takes 3 seconds and its still in the room - what a weiner! we just got a new dr. ‘cause our old one didn’t even have the get up and go to PRETEND that he knew as much as I’d looked up on the net….feel better soon…
15. Annaliese | March 3rd, 2006 at 5:14 pm
::puts on med student hat::
You were right to go to the doctor–lots of times women who *are* having a heart attack dismiss it and don’t go see anybody (they taught us that sometimes the pain of a heart attack gets ignored as “just really bad mentrual cramps” or something–the pain-down-the-arm thing is more common in men).
Also, Throughout the whole debacle, my doctor leaned against the sink and studied me as if I were a rare and diseased Galapagos seal that someone found on a Berkshire ski slope= dead. laughing.
16. Contrary | March 3rd, 2006 at 5:25 pm
I can’t even count the times I thought how if I died from whatever this horrible illness (tummy ache, runny nose, whatever) was, then they (my mother) would have to believe how sick I was and wouldn’t they regret treating me so horribly in my last days on earth.
I’m glad to report that I never died and I’m glad to see that you’re still with us.
I’d also like to suggest a second opinion, because it won’t really be all that satisfying to blame your death on an inattentive doctor. For any longer than 5 minutes, anyway.
17. Ambah | March 3rd, 2006 at 5:34 pm
bazoombas= my new favorite word. Thank-you for the giggles- I needed them today.
18. Barb | March 3rd, 2006 at 5:53 pm
So go ahead and have a stress test, you will have to jog braless and you will probably get knocked out by the bazoombas hitting you in the face. And THEN maybe the dr. will listen !
Come soak in the hot tub , drink some wine , it’s good for the heart!
19. Amanda | March 3rd, 2006 at 6:00 pm
Ok, now I hate that you had to go through that, but I really was in need of the smiles it gave me.
And I really hope it isn’t glaucoma.
20. K~ | March 3rd, 2006 at 6:37 pm
I am so glad that you’re ok-
This was so funny
21. carole | March 3rd, 2006 at 7:14 pm
ooooh, I have had lots of those pretend-heart-attack moments, and yes, I have a solid, diagnosed case of generalized anxiety disorder. I’ve been through the whole heart-test gamut– EKGs, stress tests, even an echo and nope, my heart looks good. But when I get a pain in my chest or arm or jaw, it’s ALWAYS on the left and no one can convince me that this time, my number’s up.
I hope this is your last and only pretend-heart-attack!
22. Ren275 | March 3rd, 2006 at 8:04 pm
Jen - sounds like you had an anxiety attack. I am surprised your DR didn’t mention it to you. I had a few in college and they were no fun. As soon as I started reading your post, I was sure that’s what you were having. Although it feels like you are going to die, you won’t - I promise
Karen
23. Dawn | March 3rd, 2006 at 8:52 pm
You had Faux -Attack. See? Doesn’t it sound nice spiffed up like that?
24. Antique Mommy | March 3rd, 2006 at 10:02 pm
Pants-peeing funny!
25. Karin | March 3rd, 2006 at 10:25 pm
Um…hi! I don’t know you, but I love reading your blog. And since reading this post hours ago I’ve been worried for you like you’re my sister or something. So when my husband, the resident medical expert in the family–one who’s, granted, not a doctor but was a certified EMT during his Fire Academy training–came home from work tonight I read this entire post to him so he could reassure me that I was overreacting to your tale and that you are, indeed, just fine.
But he’s worried, too. The “ape is sitting on my chest” clinched it for him. Did you at least have blood work done? This will be able to tell you definitively if you’ve in fact had an infarction, rather than leaving it up to your doctor to decide that you’re too young/pretty/perky/etc. to have suffered a heart attack.
I don’t mean to be alarmist and hope you are truly fine. But maybe a second opinion would make you (and your loyal and charmed readers) sleep better, knowing FOR SURE that you really just needed a hot bath.
26. Mir | March 3rd, 2006 at 11:34 pm
Just glaucoma? Reach for the stars, Jenn–leukemia at least.
27. Sara | March 4th, 2006 at 1:35 am
Jen,
I’m going to agree with Karin - I don’t meant to second-guess your doctor, but you should probably get some blood work done. According to my med school profs, if you did have a heart attack, some cardiac enzymes should still be elevated for up to 72 hours.
Also, I’m going to agree with you - sounds like time for a new doctor. I’m not entirely convinced he was taking you seriously, and that makes me very uncomfortable. Women’s heart disease in general, and heart attacks specifically, get ignored all too frequently by doctors trained to look for heart problems in men. Women, on the other hand, are conditioned to ignore it. (See “”But enough about me,” I say.”) Don’t let a doctor tell you it’s nothing - if he thinks it’s musculoskeletal or anxiety or whatever perfectly benign cause may be causing those pains in your chest and arm, he should say so. Otherwise he’s not doing you any good.
Sorry for offering so much unsolicited advice - I’m terrible when I get started on issues like this. Gender bias, medicine, physicians who don’t treat their patients well… these are all issues that get me all fired up. Put them all together in a post like this, and well… off I go. Hope I didn’t blather too much.
Also, I care about you. Take care of yourself.
28. sogal | March 4th, 2006 at 2:37 am
reading this tonight after being home ill for two weeks and still not feeling better. and of course googling CFS and Lupus and all kinds of other diseases…
ironic to read this - i reaaaaaaaaallly hope you get a second opinion or at least go back and have the blood work and another ekg. you are the only mom that those precious girls have - better safe than sorry , yadayada…..
tell him your blogfans sent you back…
let us all know what you do…..
29. Blue Fairy | March 4th, 2006 at 3:24 am
Wow. i did not know so many people shared this experience! i’ve been there too! and my dr also thinks i’m a nutter. they offer me anti-depressants to get me out of their office in the 15 minute time limit, which i decline. interestingly, i did a little research and upped my magnesuium, and B6, and started on an amino acid L-tyrosene and it hasn’t bothered me at all lately! (despite a nasty unemployment situation) Something to do with stress/dietary/brain signals out of whack and over reactive adrenal glands…that’s my crackpot diagnosis. anyway, it worked. but i would do the follow up work, always second guess your doctor, they make too much money.
30. alice | March 4th, 2006 at 8:43 am
What someone else said up there, about the pulled muscles in the chest. Once, after a *massage*, I had so much pain in my chest that I could barely breathe. It turned out the masseuse had somehow sprained the cartilage between my ribs. Or something. Because I am a delicate flower who must be kneaded by only the gentlest of hands.
Also, don’t heart attacks in women exhibit different symptoms, like nausea? Just something more to worry about the next time you eat a bad burrito.
31. Kim | March 4th, 2006 at 9:15 am
You gonna cook that bok choy?
32. Spot the Wonder Dog | March 4th, 2006 at 11:39 am
Soooooo…..
You’ve got a house full of paint and solvent fumes, and you woke up feeling weird it the chest…
———————————————————————-
Volitile Substance Abuse
Toxicology and Clinical Effects
Overview. The toxicological and clinical effects of volatile substances are variable. The majority of inhalants can produce neurologic dysfunction, asphyxia, and cardiovascular abnormalities that range from rhythm disturbances to myocardial suppression. Typically, abusers can be expected to develop some degree of inebriation, ranging from mild euphoria to frank psychosis. Other clinical signs and symptoms include blurred vision, photophobia, tinnitus, slurred speech, headache, conjunctival injection, and abdominal pain. Transient hypertension, salivation, persistent sneezing and coughing, chest pain, and bronchospasm have also been described.
Cardiac arrhythmia is the primary cause of death from VSA. Other contributing mechanisms include myocardial sensitization to catecholamines, hypoxemia, respiratory depression, vagal stimulation, aspiration, laryngospasm (especially with butane inhalation), and associated trauma (e.g., drowning).
33. NoNo | March 4th, 2006 at 11:44 am
Oh sweetie, why why why is your pain so funny. You suffer so that we can laugh. Thank you but why didn’t you get into that bath?
34. kris | March 4th, 2006 at 2:20 pm
While I am thrilled beyond words to be able to read this and laugh with you, I want to KEEP laughing with you.
As a few others have said, above, I hope you’ll consider getting another doctor, and having a few more tests done, just to get a definitive answer to this scary little event.
I hate to feed the hypochondriac, but you’re just too fantastic for me not to say it.
Hope the ehh has since gone away!
35. Kathryn, DYM | March 4th, 2006 at 4:26 pm
Karli just sent me the link to this post because I just wrote this. Yeah….um….yeah. Sorry about that. I chewed asprin before I went in too. Maybe that stopped the attack. Maybe we healed ourselves with the help or our good friend St. Joseph.
36. robin | March 4th, 2006 at 4:53 pm
chest pain! it must be going around. i had a bout last weekend, which caused me to end up miss taking my kids to the children’s international film festival showing of short films. i tried and tried to convince my PA to let me go, after SHE convinced me (after the doctor on call convinced HER) that i was NOT a candidate for pulmonary embolism. which i nonetheless convinced myself that i was, after they sent me home without sending me for the blood test which absolutely rules out PE. i spent the entire weekend convinced i was going to keel over, then trying to convincing myself that i wasn’t.
37. Holly | March 4th, 2006 at 5:04 pm
i’ve been reading your blog off and on for a few days, and let me tell you, i’m loving it. you are a damned talented (and funny) blogger.
i’ll be back for more (said menacingly)
38. a mummy losing it | March 4th, 2006 at 5:57 pm
My 35-yr-old girlfriend died in January after dismissing what was a heart attack as bad period pain and an anxiety attack.
Much better to be told to take a hot bath, good on you for checking it out!
39. bee | March 4th, 2006 at 9:47 pm
Fizzy Lifting Drink…heh
I was Going to Die this Monday last, but I fortnately did not turn up my toes. All this week I’ve been debating heart vs gall bladder. So yeah, you’re not the only one.
But if you still feel bad, seriously, get a second opinion. I don’t like the idea of that printout maybe being right.
40. knq | March 4th, 2006 at 9:50 pm
Hang in there. I’ve decided I have IBS - although I have no actual proof except I see visions of Jesus on the toilet. I suppose I should make my way to the dr quite soon.
41. ozma | March 5th, 2006 at 1:45 am
“Really? Are we allowed to think that way?” I ask.
That was the part that got me. It’s such a deep question!
It sounds a little scary to think you are dying. I thought I was having a heart attack once caused by…well, I’d rather not say…and I went to the ER and the nurse told me that I probably wasn’t because my color was so good.
So, I hope there is no next time but if there ever is you might want to check your color. I’m not sure what color you turn when having a heart attack. That also might be a good thing to know.
42. hollygee | March 5th, 2006 at 8:00 am
Jeez, I had no idea that there were so many of us out here in the world. I just go ahead and say in the doctor’s appointment, Hello, I’m Holly and I’m a hypochondriac.” They usually tell me that my file isn’t thick enough to be a hypochondriac, but I just don’t have the money to be a frequent flyer.
I also thought that I had Lupus once. Turned out to be Celiac disease, so no more wheat for the rest of my life. Sometimes it isn’t fun to find out, “See, I really was sick.”
Note to KNQ — if you think you have IBS, get a blood test for Celiac. 98% undiagnosed, yet it’s believed that 1 out of 130 people have it.
43. Wade | March 5th, 2006 at 11:04 am
Hypocondria is an important condition not to be trifled with.
44. kelly | March 5th, 2006 at 12:03 pm
Good Gawd. My ex had several episodes that sound so much like that, and ended up with a diagnosis of mild anxiety attack. Hope that’s all it is, and you’re feeling less eeenh.
45. Coley | March 5th, 2006 at 3:03 pm
Jenn I just love this story. You always make me laugh. But I do hope you are okay.
46. geogirl | March 5th, 2006 at 11:54 pm
Jenn,
Not to put a damper on a funny story but seriously…you NEED a new doctor. I’ll spare you the details of the horrible incident I went through several years ago with a dumb assed, snot-nosed doctor who treated me the same way yours treated you and told me I just needed to go home and listen to relaxing music. It took two trips to the emergency room, three doctors, two endoscopys, a Cat Scan, a series of x-rays and some horrible procedure with a rubber tube that I shall not describe here to discover that I was NOT CRAZY!! I did in fact have a serious problem and if the original doctor had just listened to me instead of treating me like some poor woman from the 1800’s with a case of the vapors I would have gotten better a long time ago and forgone a lot of pain and suffering.
My father (who is at doctor BTW) always told me…there is more to being a good doctor than knowledge and if you just don’t feel right with your physician then you need to
switch…end of story.
OK, lecture aside. I hope you feel better and now my chest hurts from laughing so hard.
47. Sheri | March 24th, 2006 at 4:42 pm
I hope you are feeling better. I feel like I must fit in somewhere or I’m just a cliche (worse option) b/c you’re describing me with your trip to the co-op - I’m a member, I have Birkenstocks (non-leather even), I have 2 (that’s 2) magnetic peace signs on my car, and I can’t walk out of there without spending over $50 even if I was just there yesterday, which I was.
48. Maria | March 27th, 2006 at 6:15 pm
Okay, now I get the hypochondriac jokes ! I didn’t mention the little spot on my cheek (I’m imagining skin cancer) or my recent entanglements with what I thought were 5 different parasites living in my GI tract. Nevermind. Good luck.
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50. Tiff | April 11th, 2006 at 12:33 pm
How scary for you! Ohmigosh. But sounds like you just might have had a panic attack. I know ALL about that myself having dealt with, always occuring at the most inappropriate times, Panic Attack Disorder for six years now. I would look into it.
51. Sara | June 27th, 2006 at 4:34 pm
What you described sounds like my first encounter (almost 10 years ago) with gallstones! I thought I was having a heart attack and then my ex-husband called me a hypochondriac and I ignored it for 6 months. Ended up in the emergency room and had my gall bladder removed. Sadly, I still have the attacks because the stones can grow back. My description was “it feels like an elephant is sitting on my chest.” The ER doctor asked if I was having pain in my arms or shoulders — I wanted to hug him and cry! YES! PAIN! SHOULDERS! CHEST! This is very, very often misdiagnosed in women because most male doctors think women are hypochondriacs. That is all.
52. Scoutmom | June 29th, 2006 at 1:57 pm
I had a similarr incident and thought I was having a heart attack — spent several hours in ER being convinced otherwise.
It ended up being mitral valve prolapse, which is very common and poses no real threat. Basically, a leaky mitral valve. They also checked my thyroid because it can cause the same symptoms.
A agree with the others — change doctors! Even if he’s a great physician, you’re not 100% comfortable with him and it could affect your future care. FWIW, I’ve had better luck with female doctors.
Scoutmom
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