“Ladies and Gentlemen, the story you are about to hear is true. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.”

“It was mid-September, somewhere in the city of Cyberspace. I found myself in the midst of a sizable amount of information. Evidence was appearing from all corners, but it was clear where my attention was being drawn to. I had begun to feel as if I were the best detective this side of Los Angeles… or rather, this side of…my computer…”

The Cleveland Clinic continued to make itself known in the wide world of my increasing internet searches.

My father-in-law had also given me a recent issue of a magazine, AARP I think it was, that had an extensive article on hospitals, their surgery success rates and after surgical care.

Again, Cleveland Clinic was at the top of the list.

Coincidence?

I don’t think so.

Divine intervention?

Absolutely.

 

 

So, whaddya think?

“I consulted my partner (my husband) about it and he suggested I give the Cleveland Clinic a call, see what they had to offer…. “

We figured it couldn’t hurt to get their opinion seeings how they seem to be the cardiology experts.

Long way to travel for a second opinion, I agree, but if YOU were being told you needed to get your chest sliced open, what would YOU do?? Better to hear it from the best, wouldn’t ya say?

 

We also needed to find out, first and foremost, if they were covered by our medical insurance plan. That would play a huge part in this investigation.

Things checked out good. The mission was a-go.

 

I called and was immediately transferred to the clinic’s heart and vascular institute.

It was there where I basically “spilled my guts” for an hour to a very courteous and obliging investigator (representative).

My first assignment: To gather all my Evidence…

(that would be copies of my current echoes and cardiology records), and fed ex them, in advance, to the Cleveland cardiologist whom I had been set up to see the following month.

I also compiled a detailed letter explaining all my past medical history jive;

signed it,

sealed it,

and sent it on its way.

Done.

Not bad for a Rookie.

 

A couple of weeks later….

I received a call from the Cleveland Clinic. This was from my assigned cardiologist.

This was not his secretary, nor his nurse, not even his assistant.

HE HIMSELF-the doctor-who had not even seen me yet-

Called ME-the patient- whom hadn’t even paid so much as one co-payment or parking pass to his facility!

He was reviewing the evidence, (my echoes and records), and was calling to discuss them with me.

 

Can I just say “Wow?!”

 

I’m sorry, but I can count on ONE FINGER when a doctor has taken time out of his busy day to phone me PERSONALLY (and that would have been my OB doc, the one I had seen for decades and the one who initially discovered my heart issue).

That, my friend, is a sign of an exceptional doctor!

We discussed my heart for over an hour. I was, to say the least, extremely impressed.

He suggested that we postpone my Cleveland visit until after the two tests that cardiologist #3 here in my hometown had scheduled, as he agreed that would be the protocol that he would have ordered.

He proposed that I send him the results and CDs of those tests as soon as they were completed, and we tentatively rescheduled my appointment.

 

 

“Just the facts Ma’am….”

And these two assessments could very well implement the additional evidence needed for this particular investigation…

 

 

Assessment #1-The Heart MRI:

This was, by far, the easiest of all next to a regular echo.

You lay in a tube (which they say can be nerve wracking if you’re claustrophobic, but really you have plenty of breathable room and space in my opinion) and basically chillax.

The worse part of it (in my opinion) is the IV of contrast (dye) that they administer.

I say this only because I hate needles.

They give you these headphones to wear, and you can literally choose to listen to any radio station you want. My station of choice: WKIT out of Bangor Maine, which happens to be Stephen King’s classic rock station.

There is a catch, though. The headphones are also the communication device between you and your MRI tech.

So other than the interruptions of breathing commands during Blue Oyster Cult’s “The Reaper” and announcements of the local Bangor/ King Halloween goings on (it was October at this point) it was really quite relaxing. All needles aside…

All good things must come to an end… and I refused to “Fear The Reaper!”  (aka assessment #2….the next test)

Did I mention how much I hate needles?

 

Assessment #2- The Cardiac Catheterization:

I DREADED this,

Only because I can still remember my mom describing hers to me, which realistically was 27 years ago.

I remember her saying that a NEEDLE was placed in your artery and you had to lay PERFECTLY STILL for the whole procedure, because IF YOU MOVED, you could basically bleed to death and die.

Yes, this was my association with a heart cath. No wonder I dreaded it.

Common knowledge told me my body would have no choice but to move after being told that it COULDN’T?! So basically, I was planning on dying that very day.

 

I did, however, talk to several people I knew that had had this procedure done recently, and they all said it really wasn’t that bad. In fact, most of them told me they fell asleep due to the medication given and slept through most of it.

Huh. I could deal with that. I felt better already.

Until the day of, that is…

I was, once again, preparing to die.

There, laying on my “gurney of death,” I waited until I rounded the corner away from my husband, and then, burst into tears.

The nurses assured me that it “wasn’t so bad” (after clarifying that neither had ever experienced this personally) and that once I received the medication I would most likely fall right to sleep.

Ok, so that wasn’t the first time I had heard that.

Fall asleep, fall asleep, concentrate on falling asleep.

I was wheeled into what felt like a meat locker. Cardiologist #3 was there to greet me.

Again, the tears exploded.

One of the assistants introduced herself. “Aren’t you Ivy’s mom?” She knew my daughter. Fabulous. There I was, a blubbering idiot. I tried my best, at this point, to contain myself.

I asked the doctor about falling asleep. He said I probably would.

Throughout the procedure, I asked him about falling asleep.

“Hit me” I would continue to say, and I wasn’t playing poker.

I had not fallen asleep yet, but was told I had been “tapped out.”

The maximum amount of medicine and I never did fall sleep. I had a cat once that reacted to tranquilizers in this way. Guess it was “the drinker” in me…

I was coherent for the entire procedure. Contrary to the memory of my mother’s description, it was, really and truly, not bad at ALL.

The worst part of it was the spectacle I made of myself. Another award-winning performance by yours truly…

“They’ll overlook every last good cop in the country. But they’ll remember YOU…”  ~Sgt Joe Friday

Being memorable is good right?! I am, after all, a Rookie…