I did my best to keep control of my breathing and heartbeat as I plodded towards the hospital with my grandma beside me. We entered through a side door into one of the more isolated wings of the Skyridge Medical Center, and then took an elevator up to the cardiology office floor. It didn't take long to get checked in, especially since I was the only patient there and I'd completed most of the paperwork ahead of time.
Within ten minutes of arriving, a nurse had EKG monitors attached to my chest as I laid down on the paper-covered exam table for a few minutes. I stared wide-eyed at my nurse's face as the EKG monitor printed out my results, looking for any signs of fear or confusion on her face. But, I picked up on none of that. Instead, she put the sheet of results into a portfolio, then left me alone in the room to put on a green patterned hospital gown.
Thankfully, I could keep my jeans and boots on (I was wearing leggings underneath my jeans to keep me warm), but my chest had to be bare under the gown for the echocardiogram and examination afterward. Usually, I really don't like to show much skin around others, especially where my scars show. But, at the doctors' office, I wasn't at all shy about that. Those nurses and doctors have seen hundreds, if not thousands of bare chests with heart surgery zipper scars in their careers. There was no reason for me to be embarrassed or ashamed of that scar in their company. If anything, I ought to be proud of it wherever I am! Sadly, I am still pretty insecure about it, and don't want random people asking me those questions.
A few minutes after I had my gown tied around my chest, and my hoodie and shirts folded and placed on a chair, the technician came to lead me to the echocardiogram room and get me started. She had me lay down in a dimly lit room on a warm hospital bed, and offered to turn the TV on for me. But, I politely declined. I just wanted to let my mind wander uninterrupted and focus on my breathing to stay calm.
The technician understood, and instructed me to lay down on my left side to start. She then opened up my hospital gown to expose my chest and scar, and got to work using an ultrasound device on my heart. I couldn't see what she was seeing on the screen because I was laid down facing away from it, but I could occasionally hear my heart beat as she played back short videos of my heart, before sending those short clips to my cardiologist to look over. To my ears, my heartbeat sounded like any other, but with just a slight abnormal rhythm caused by an occasional, faint extra beat. I took that as a relatively good sign that things were okay, but was still a little put-off by the slight murmur.
When I rolled over onto my right side, I watched my heart beating on the screen like a hawk. However, without knowing what to look for or what a normal echocardiogram looked like, I had no idea what I was actually looking at. I knew I was watching my heart, but I didn't know what the splashes of red and blue against the black-and-white image represented, or what any of the numbers meant either. So, I shifted my focus onto the technician's face to look for any clues, but she never showed any concern. I'd be in the dark till I met up with my cardiologist after the technician was done with the tests.
In the meantime, I continued to focus on my breathing. I refused to let my mind become inundated with all of the anxiety-inducing "what-ifs" I wanted so badly to explore. I needed to stay as calm as possible, so the test results would be most accurate.
An hour or so after the echocardiogram began, it was done, and the technician gave me a warm, wet washcloth to wipe the ultrasound gel off my chest. She then helped me onto my feet, and led me back to the exam room where my grandma was waiting for me.
"So... how was it?" my grandma asked as she put down her phone.
"Uhhh, it was uncomfortable but okay." I answered as I sat on the exam table.
"Ah." my grandma nodded, "Are you dying? Did the nurse gasp in horror while she looked at your heart?"
"Uhm, no." I snickered.
"Then you're probably just fine." my grandma smiled, "Relax. You're all tense and it's giving me anxiety!"
I didn't have time to respond before there was a knock on the door.
"Come in!" I called, and in came the cardiologist that has known me since I was fresh off the operating table at three days old.
"Well, hello!" he practically shouted, "Before I say anything else, I want to let you know that your heart looks great. Now, get outta here and I'll see ya in three to five years!"
We all had a good laugh, and I felt much of my anxiety and dread lift off my shoulders instantly. In all seriousness, my cardiologist was still very much stunned by how well my heart was doing. He still emphasized the fact that I've always been a true "freak-of-nature", and I remain his healthiest and most baffling patient to-date.
"You were a very sickly little thing when I first saw you..." He said very matter-of-factly, "You had all of these hoses and tubes sticking out of you, and every day one of [the doctors] had to change the dressings we had around your scars and tubes... But hey, you survived! Not only that, but your body decided to permanently fix the issue before anyone else had a chance to-"
"And, have you figured out why that is, yet?" I interrupted him.
"No!" my doctor replied, "Again, you're just a real weirdo, a freak of nature through-and-through! I mean that in the best possible way. It's great that you will probably never need another heart surgery or catheter procedure for the rest of your life. Besides the scars and hardware, as well as a minor murmur and very slight leakage through your shunt, your heart is extremely healthy and average-looking. It's incredible to look at!"
After several more minutes of discussion surrounding my heart, my cardiologist finally got around to listening to my heart with his stethoscope, as well as feeling my neck, wrists, and ankles for a pulse, as well as examining my extremities. My hands and feet were both cold as usual, and my feet were a pale shade of blue (also as usual). Yet, my doctor could feel my pulse very easily wherever he checked for it. I asked my cardiologist why my hands and feet were cold and blue if my heart and veins were strong and healthy.
"Well, I don't think we'll ever really know." my doctor answered honestly, "What we do know is that whatever is causing your hands and feet to be cold and blue, is very much benign. Just make sure to wrap your extremities up in warm, insulating socks and gloves, and carry around a bunch of heat packs if you plan to be outside for a long time in the cold. I don't want you coming in here in three years walking on a peg!"
Finally, he examined my surgery scars, and declared that my scars were faded significantly, and I was much healthier than most normal people my age without heart conditions. But, before I could leave, he stuck a USB heart monitor onto my chest, just below the base of my neck, which would collect data of my heart for the next 24 hours. My doctor just wanted to be sure that everything was running smoothly when I was out of his office and back to my normal life. When 24 hours passed, my cardiologist instructed me to unplug the USB from the sticky part of the monitor, and send it back to his office in a pre-paid package he left me with. The sticky part was to be thrown away at home.
With that, my cardiologist shook hands with me, told me to come back in three years, and that I was free to go. I got dressed in my normal clothes, leaving the gown behind, and rushed out of that office before my cardiologist could change his mind about anything.
