I CAN'T TAKE IT ANYMORE!

I've missed you like crazy and it's been, what, like a week?  I have to come back.  At least for a couple days in May.   

I was totally stressed out last week.  Like major stressed about work, about life, about health, about this planning this damn party.  Then work smoothed out, the details for the party magically clicked into place. 

I had my first cardio stress test to see if the episode I described a week or so ago had anything to do with my heart.  I was so cranked up for the test.

So I get to the hospital, which is a different hospital than I usually visit because my fucking insurance won't pay if I go to the hospital close to my home.  I hate fucking health insurance.  And this place is huge and I have to park like a mile away  -  no lie.   They have valet parking, maybe I should have done that.  Nah - it was a beautiful day.   Then I get lost trying to find the wing where the heart place is, and that's another half mile walk.  I'm tired already, and my plan to get there 15 minutes early is totally for shit.

I meet a nice elderly gentleman on the elevator who rides with me to the heart floor and admonishes me for even going to the same floor.  "You're too young to get out here!"  OK, old timer.   I try to beat him to the receptionist but he uses his charm to butt in line.  And of course he's an hour early for his appointment because he likes to get everywhere early so he can joke around with the office staff and have social hour in the waiting room.

So uptight I am, I push him out of the way with a nervous laugh and then the receptionist looks at my insurance card and is all, "I don't know if you can do this today - blah blah blah - referral - blah blah blah" and I hate fucking insurance.  And then she has to call four people to find the billing department to see if I can get my heart checked and meanwhile my pulse is racing and I'm starting to sweat all over the marble counter.  If I shlepped all the way here only to be turned away by the fucking insurance wizard, I'm gonna go ballistic.

"Well, I guess you're OK, we'll put you through."  So I know that when I get my fucking insurance statement I'm gonna have to call the fucking insurance company and go ballistic.  Because I don't have money for all this shit, even though I'm really trying to think positively, that I'm doing preventive care. 

Now I'm totally stressed out for my stress test.  I'm in a room with two techy girls (thank God, because I have to go topless).  And they cover me with wires, dim the lights, and then Cardio Girl #1 puts goo all over my chest and wands me as we watch my heart on TV for like 15 minutes, looking at every possible angle.  And I'm like, this is not soothing at all.  In fact, it feels like a too-much application with the big wide ball of Tickle deoderant (find your own link if you need to).  I doubt that this is my heart at rest.  And she's telling me to breathe and relax. 

Then Cardio Girl #2 tells me to get my ass on that treadmill and start walking.  I'm topless but have a little piece of fabric on, held by tape.  "I have do this without a bra?"   I'm trying to make a joke because I feel ridiculous but it kind of falls flat.   Ha.

Then the Cardio Girls start talking about how they hate their jobs and their employer and you know how great it is to hear that when you've got 37 wires strapped to you and you're running on a treadmill without any boob support. 

When you hit the high note with the heart rate, Cardio Girl #2 stops the treadmill immediately, which makes you feel like you're gonna fall over.  And then I had to lie down with Cardio Girl #1 so she could feel me up again for another 10 minutes and we listened to the blood making noise together and she made some kind of sound mix.

Then this Bitch Doctor comes in.  I know I should be more empathetic to doctors.  But this bitch not only lacked bedside manner, she was quite rude.  I had just seen her shooting the shit in the hallway with someone about a miserable luncheon so I knew she wasn't running around with trauma drama.

Bitch Doctor:   How old are you?

Me:   Thirty- (she cuts me off)

BD:  Smoke?

Me:  No.

BD:  Why are you here?

Me:  I thought I was having a heart attack last week, so my doc-

BD:  Who is this doctor of yours?

Me:  Doctor Sho-

BD:  Are you still having your menses?

Me:  My what?

BD:  MENSES.  Your MENSES.

(who says that? WTF.)

Me:  Ummmm-

BD:  I MEAN MENSES IN GENERAL. (rolls eyes) OK. The chances of this one having heart disease are slim to none. 

Bitch Doctor throws the chart down, turns around and leaves, as if I've totally wasted her time and not paid her salary or anything like that.  Cardio Girls throw some towels at me to get the goo off and, well, that's it.  I feel used.  I make a note never to come back to Bitch Doctor.

I guess I passed the test?  I don't know. 

So I go to a park and watch ducks for a while.

Comments

[Beth!]

I am still laughing at the visual in my head of you running topless.

I've had that experience before too - not with the heart, but with the Bitch Dr. Except she was a he in my case and kept saying, "Why are you here?" Then you start thinking, "Sheesh. My other doc must have just been trying to shove me off on someone else. Was I being a hypochondriac?" And you feel like a doofus. And then you get mad because you wasted all this time and money.
Sigh. I feel for ya, Blaugra. Hang in there. Is Jamaica coming soon?

[anti]

I love you and your honesty...

[Timmer]

I too am laughing at the sight of you on the treadmill! OMFG! BD's are everywhere! I guess bedside manners are something they don't teach in Med school! It's great to have you back...I missed you!

[Peeved Michelle]

All those ladies suck.

[Tom Guarriello]

Um...welcome back!

We certainly missed you, too, but, did you have to be so fucking dramatic and have your first "I'm back" post be, like, a bad episode of House?

Jeezuz...what a hilarious/annoying/typical depiction of the state of our medical system. Could we be more fucked up?

No.

And, the image of you sitting there, Tony Soprano-like, looking at the ducks at the end...priceless.

Please tell us that you'll keep us informed about the test results, the party, the weather, and everything else that goes on in the world of Blaugra and Salty D!