2.15.2007

Quitter

So the event monitor is being returned. I just can’t do it, folks, no matter how lazy and unconcerned-about-my-heart that makes me look. I put it on the other night, read the instructions, talked to the customer service people, and found out that not only is this thing bulkier and more difficult to wear than I thought it would be (but how much fun was it to hear "line it up with your left nipple..." five times? Oh that's right, NOT fun. Quite UNCOMFORTABLE in fact), it also mandates that I make a call every. damn. time I have an episode. Since I cannot make these calls from a cell phone, I’ll have to find a landline each time- something that is hard to do when one is in class, running errands, or racing around headless-chicken-style at work.

The cardiologist's nurse who explained everything to me last week told me I’d only have to call after every five episodes, and also that “it looks like an iPod.” Hardly. The thing is so big and cumbersome it clunks against my hip and won’t even stay clipped to my waistband like it’s supposed to. So... iPod, sure. Maybe the iPod Fred Flintstone might have. No sign of a smart-ass talking bird turning levers inside of it, however.

Today I called my doctor (primary, not cardiologist) and explained (in a tone meant to sound firm and calm but that ended up all whiney and pouty) that this Six Weeks of Event Monitoring is Not Happening. That my flutters MUST be due to stress (I’m sure doctors appreciate when their patients call them with the diagnosis- saves a lot of time for the doctor, you’re welcome!) since now they’re consistently happening when I have stressful thoughts. Watch:

Car’s in the shop for an oil leak, I wonder how much this is going to cost us. Flutter.


New section of massage class starts soon. Will we get a new teacher? Flutter.

Quitting my job. Flutter.

Making it as a massage therapist, not a massage-therapist-slash-office-drone. Flutter.

It’s like a magic trick! That no one can see and that nobody cares about!

Back to the whine-whine-pout-pout. I emphasized my lack of sleep and lack of quality sleep and declared my certainty that, should I be able to actually get a good night’s sleep (it's been several years since that has happened, if you can believe it), I might not get these flutters and constantly feel like punching someone in the throat or crying. After much debate with the doctor’s nurse and being on hold for 10 minutes while she called the doctor (which reminded me very much of the Car Salesman “let me go talk to my manager” Schtick), I now have a prescription for Ambien. I’m a little nervous, as I’ve recently heard about some pretty scary side effects with Ambien: Sleep-walking, sleep-eating and sleep-suiciding. I was really hoping to play Pick Your Pill with the doctor, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.


So we’ll see how this works out. I’ll be stacking a pile of empty cans by the bedroom door tonight in case Monk needs to be jolted awake in time to rescue me from falling down the stairs, eating all our Ziploc bags, or offing myself with the cheese slicer.

3 comment:

Blogger Becky said...

I usually get flutters (or skipped beats) when I've been sick for a while. I'm fairly certain yours are stress-related, but if they don't go away, tough out the bulky monitor just to make sure it's nothing else. I'm sure I don't need to tell you about women/heart statistics.

12:52 PM  
Blogger Kelley said...

I swear that after I read your previous post, I started feeling a few heart flutters. It's contagious, damnit, and you're spreading it all over the internets! ;) Seriously, though, it was weird. Talk about the power of suggestion!

I hope that finally getting some good, restful sleep will solve the problem. Just be sure to secure the cheese slicer.

3:16 PM  
Blogger Lisa said...

Gah... You do have alot going on. Hope you get some sleep. A few good nite's rest can make such a HUGE difference.

4:27 PM  

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