pouring my heart out
I told myself a while back that I was going to write more, but I haven't decided exactly what it was I was going to writing about. Fact? Fiction? Navel-gazing drivel? All I know is I need to do it. It's an itch that's not getting scratched, and I'm at the point of frustration. This is hard to expain to someone who thinks blogs are pointless wastes of time (admittedly, someone a lot like me), but it's there. So I can write what I know, like facts about my heart.
In the previous post I reiterated a story about my heart going crazy on me. Since that episode I've been to a cardiologist, and have had over $5,000 worth of tests run. The first series of tests were pretty routine. A echocardiogram, a stress test, and blood pressure monitoring. It was here that I discovered I have cardiomyopathy. I had to wear a holter monitor for 24 hours, and was put on an ace-inhibitor and a beta-blocker. (Evidently the answer to the Bee Gee's question is one 10 mg dose of Lisinopril a day, and two 6.25 mg doses of Carvedilol a day.)
The doc told me that a normal heart expels 60% of it's capacity with each heartbeat. I was only at 40%. He didn't know why, because I'm not exactly the poster child for heart disease. I'm much too young (nice to know.) I'm fit. I'm thin. I eat a healthy diet. I do, however, have a family history of heart disease, but he wanted to make sure I didn't have any blockages, so I went back a week ago to do a nuclear stress test. They put an IV in my arm, shot me full of radioactive isotopes (thallium), and took pictures of my heart with a gamma camera while I was lying on my back as still as humanly possible for 18 minutes. Then I got back on the treadmill, got my heartrate back up, was shot full of more radioactive goo, and went back to the gamma camera for more pics. At the end of the day there were zero blockages discovered, and left me the updated diagnosis of ischemic cardiomyopathy. Basically I have a weak heart, but he assured me I would live to be a very old lady. I can still drink wine, work out, fornicate, garden, take long walks on beaches, and swim laps in the pool in the blazing heat of summer.
But. This is isn't what I want to write about, and like I said, I'm not sure if I want to write diary entries, or fictional accounts of things that are wiggling around in my mind. Whatever it is I'll try to pour my heart into it because at this moment I am the happiest I've been in a long time. I've weathered a few storms the past couple of years, and I'm not taking anything for granted. Even though that muscle in my chest might be labeled as weak, my spirit is far from it.
