For many of us, aging doesn’t come without some kind of health issue. It seems that I am destined to carry on my mother’s side of the family’s, ‘heart problems’. As I have mentioned in a previous post, my Mom passed away at the age of 66, and her mother passed away in her 60’s. My goal is to break this seemingly family tradition so I make a conscious effort to address any possible problems and nip them in the bud. At a recent, routine visit to my cardiologist, I mentioned about experiencing some pain in my legs while walking; he recommended that I be checked for Peripheral Arterial Disease. The test checks for any clogs or circulatory problems in the legs and it’s easy and painless. I was given an appointment for the following week with the suggestion that I bring a pair of shorts to wear.
To be honest, I seldom wear shorts, mainly because I just don’t like how my legs look in them and, in fact, my shorts are still packed away since our move. The closest thing I have to a pair is actually pajama bottom shorts; I thought they would be okay, so that’s what I brought with me. After checking in, I was sent downstairs to the exam room; a very nice nurse had me change and prepare for the test. Once I was in my PAD designer wear jammy bottoms she fitted me with blood pressure cuffs on both arms and both ankles. After about 20 minutes of taking pressures she told me that I would need to walk on a treadmill for about 5 minutes in hopes that it would recreate the pain I had been experiencing. No problem! Well, maybe just a teensy one…the treadmill located in the exam room was broken so I would have to use the one down the hall. “It’s just a couple of doors down”, said the nurse.
So there I was, wearing a sweater with my short PJ bottoms, cuffs on both arms and legs, oh and I forgot to mention the little knitted socks she had stuck on my feet…a vision of loveliness! “Follow me”, she instructed, and out the door we went, smack into a previously empty waiting room, that was now FULL of people. Before the door of the exam room had totally closed, the phone rang…the nurse spun around and went back to answer it. The door closed and I’m locked out and clueless as to what direction I should be headed. I prayed that the floor would open up and swallow me but the only thing that opened was the elevator door and a half dozen more people joined the group. Please God, don’t let me know any of these people! After what seemed like an eternity, the exam room door opened, “You’re still here!” the nurse exclaimed. “Where else would I be?” I replied through a totally forced smile. We marched down the hall, I did the treadmill test and then it was time for the dreaded walk back, my fingers crossed hoping that the Fashion Police were out to lunch!
Fifteen minutes later, I was all done, dressed and out the door. I was just about to press the elevator button when the nurse came running up, waving my pajama bottoms like a flag of surrender, “Hold on a minute, you forgot these!” I know I heard snickers from the waiting room as I finally made my exit!
On a serious note: I have lived with chronic heart disease for fifteen years, that’s about fourteen more years than I was given when first diagnosed. A little over two years ago I learned that I needed a defibrillator implant (ICD). I share this personal information with you, not for sympathy but as a friendly reminder to take care of your heart. Heart disease is the leading cause of death in America. Dying of embarrassment could be a close second!
