No Need To Be Alarmed
I was laid out on the table, stuck between the plastic mattress and the billion-dollar piece of high-tech medical equipment aimed at my heart when the fire alarm went off. Lights and sirens wailed through the hallways and all the doors slammed shut with a precision that can only be accomplished in a medical facility.
“No need to be alarmed,” the nurse said.
Sure lady, how about I pump you full of steroids, stick you in this machine, hook you up to the EKG, throw on all the sirens – and then see what your heart rate is.
Although the official results of the heart scan will not be back for a few days, I was able to glean some information on my own from the pictures. I have a heart and it is pumping. So, for all you girls out there that told me over and over that it wasn’t true – I now have medical proof that, yes, I do have a heart, and it is not made of stone.
Furthermore, I’m happy to say that my pulse is 72. 72! Prior to diagnosis, I was anxious that my heart rate was well above normal – often reaching past 100 while at rest. As it turns out, Tito the Tumor was trying to push my heart out of the way and making it difficult for the poor thing to pump blood. A lowered pulse could only mean that Tito has already begun to significantly shrink.
Tito was also competing for the best real estate with my lungs, which caused the cough I had for a year and a half or so. But now the cough is gone, and I no longer have to go coughing and hacking through life. What a relief.
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