HEART AND SOUL

By Marilyn Armstrong on 10/12/2013

I went to the cardiac surgeon the other day. I explained about the money problem. He apparently understood. Wow. A rational, friendly guy. With whom I had a normal conversation. I’m not used to that. I kept waiting for hostilities to break out, but they didn’t.

We put together a sort of plan. I need to reorganize my health insurance so I can afford the surgery. This means it will have to be after the turn of the year. In any case, it will take me that long to figure out how to get through to Medicare while the government is closed for business. I’m trying to stay calm, but I’m screaming inside.

The doctor said since I’ve made it this far — and I can breathe and am not all swollen with water retention — I’m likely survive another few months. How comforting is that?

Meanwhile, I have nightly dreams I’m drowning in my sleep and can’t breathe. It’s my fear throttling me. Even though I’m essentially asymptomatic, it doesn’t make the fear go away. I control while I’m conscious, but at night, those demons are fast.

The good doctor found it puzzling. I should be symptomatic as Hell. Go figure, right? My mitral valve is barely working and the aortic valve is 75% blocked by an over-developed muscle in the left ventricle. Because the mitral valve is not working, the muscle has had to work extra hard — apparently for some time — to move blood around. Which has made it grow big enough to block the aortic valve. In addition to replacing the mitral valve, they have to do a little creative slice and dice on that muscle. The fun never stops.

The lack of symptoms had the doctor looking at me funny. He kept checking for signs of swelling in my ankles and wrists. There wasn’t any. “You sure you aren’t taking medication?”

“Just hydrochlorothiazide … 25 mg. Standard dose … been taking it for years.”

“No Lasix?”

“No. I have a recliner. I keep my feet up. You know, about a year ago, I was having a really big problem with swollen ankles. I looked like I had elephant legs. Then it went away.”

“Just … went away?”

“Yeah. Just went away.”

My Surgeon who isn't too busy to see me.

My Surgeon. He isn’t too busy to see me.

“That’s strange. Symptoms don’t usually just … go away. Not without medication. And you’ve seen your cardiologist?”

“No. My cardiologist is too busy to see me until next February.”

“Right. I forgot. You have a phantom cardiologist.”

“Yeah. He seems to be the only game in town, so to speak and he’s a very busy man. So I haven’t seen a cardiologist at all. Just you. And a nurse practitioner. Who didn’t mention the whole thing with the aortic valve. I think she was 12. Barely in puberty.”

Laughter. Not guffaws. More like amicable chuckles.

“Well, when you get your insurance straightened out, we’ll get you scheduled. Get your teeth taken care of in the meantime.”

“Will do. And thanks.”

Maybe I don’t need heart valves? Perhaps I could skip this whole thing? Ah … ephemeral dreams of improved health. I dream of surgery not done with my life nonetheless lived.