I may be kiiiiiiiiiind of a hypochondriac. I also know a LOT about heart disease—the number one killer of women. This is a treacherous combination, as it turns out.
One day, I was sitting at work, minding my own business, when my chest started to feel like an elephant was sitting on it and my left hand started tingling. Now, maybe I have allergies and maybe, as it turns out, they make my chest feel a little congested sometimes, and maybe I had been on conference calls all day and hadn’t had enough water to drink. Did you know that a symptom of not drinking enough fluids is tingly fingers and hands? And then maybe I started freaking out, which might have induced panic-attack lightheadedness…
Now, I’ve been to a lot of Red Dress Fashion Shows for women’s heart health during NY Fashion Weeks over the years. I’ve never been to a fashion show raising awareness about allergies or dehydration. And, what can I say? I’m very susceptible to fashion’s influence.
So, obviously, the only logical conclusion to my symptoms is that I was having a heart attack.
Of course, I immediately made the obligatory phone call to my mom:
“MOM!!!!!! Do you think I’m having a heart attack?!?! I think I may be having a heart attack!! What should I do? Shouldn’t I take aspirin?! I don’t have any aspirin!! I should start carrying around aspirin!!”
“Well, no, I wasn’t exercising. I was sitting at my desk on a conference call. Oh, you think a heart attack is more likely during physical assertion than sitting at my desk? Right, right, that is why so many movies feature politicians having heart attacks in shady hotel rooms with prostitutes, I suppose?”
“Yeah, I think I’m still going to the Urgent Care. I’m pretty sure I have heart disease. I know you are a nurse and everything, but have you been to any Red Dress fashion shows? I’m not sure you fully appreciate the significance of my symptoms.”
So, after a call to my boss:
“Hey, Peter, I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack so I’m going to run to the Urgent Care quickly. No, no, I’ll be back in time for the next conference call in about an hour or so—unless I don't come back. Ok, I’ll let you know!”
I went to the most legit Urgent Care I’ve ever been in (and, it should be no surprise that I’ve been in quite a few!), where the receptionist greeted me by asking what they could do for me. “Hello. I am having a heart attack.” With a quizzical look, she said, “Uh, ok. Have a seat and fill out these forms.” “Ok! Thanks!”
When I got back to the exam room, a helpful, cheery nurse did some preliminary evaluations and went to get the doctor. All the while I’m making jokes and live-tweeting my experience. After all, I have to keep my tweeps up to speed on the major events of my life—especially the potentially life threatening.
The doctor came in within a respectable amount of time, and I greeted her cheerfully and bubbly, putting my phone away. She started asking me the regular doctor exam questions:
“Do you smoke?”
“No.”
“Do you drink?”
“Yes.”
“Do you sometimes have more than 3 drinks in a night?”
“Yes, I’m trying to find a husband.”
“Well... I found my husband at a bar, so I can’t really judge that!”
Then she went on, “Well, I have to say, you are fine.”
Incredulously, I responded, “Are you sure I don’t have heart disease and am not having a heart attack?!? I mean, I’ve been to the fashion shows!” She didn’t get that reference, having not been to the shows herself, but we eventually got back on track.
“If you were having a heart attack, you would not be smiling and making jokes or on your phone. You would be in quite a bit of pain, doubled over even. Plus, the EKG we just did," YES! They have an EKG machine! Best. Urgent. Care. Ever! “…Was completely normal. Do you maybe have a tendency to overreact??”
Me??? Overreact?!? NEVER!
**Public service announcement: check out The Heart Truth. While heart disease didn’t do me in—yet—it really is the number one killer of women. Know the symptoms! But, use them for good, not for evil, as I seem to use “symptoms!”**
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