Hard On...the Heart.

I am sure all ten of you have been sitting on the edge of your seats wondering about my mysterious breathing/heart/just-plain-out-shape status.  Well wonder no more, my faithful readers!  After $9,000 worth of blood work and heart monitoring, we still have no answers.  I am not completely defending the health care world, but I think they are too the point that with all of the liability that they take on, they overreact and over diagnose while under dressing their patients.  Seriously...

My morning started out as usual....blue birds brought me my robe as I gently awoke my sleeping children from a fruitful night of slumber.   Don't be jealous. You know it's true.  As I was trying to put a clean diaper on Cole while brushing my teeth, Makenna informs me that she can't find her house key (I have no doubt this will be found in the pile of stolen goods located in Miss Annika's room...which holds our family's most valuable possesions from my diamond earrings to Cole's favorite McDonalds toy).  After Annika found two, sort-of matching shoes, Makenna brushed her hair (Yes honey, just because you can't see the back of your head, doesn't mean you don't have to brush back there) and I have now gone hoarse yelling this long, this early in the morning, kids are trudging out of the door, regardless of the lack of personal hygiene or matching attire.

I decide to forgo the coffee this morning, because this is just a quick appointment and I'll grab a cup when I get to work.  ::foreshadowing warning::  Here's a tip people....IF, for some unbelievably, mentally f*cked up reason, you WANT to land in the ER at any time, all you have to do is make a mention of "heart" coupled with "breathing" and/or "pain" and you'll find your ass smack dab in the land of backless robes and needle wielding nurses. 

So, as I am mentally preparing to act like I am totally OK with people pushing my boobs around to hear my heart and glue cord tassles to my chest (give it up for the girls in Vegas...cause those boobie tassle things not only have to stay on, but eventually come off.  I would be surprised if any of them even have nipples left.) I get handed the dreaded robe.  I am patting myself on the back because I shaved my legs this morning (maybe not well, but well enough that you can't braid them anymore) and I realize I am wearing a thong.  A THONG.  You don't see a lot of chicks (or dudes) walking around the ER sporting their polk-a-dotted thong under their backless robe.  I almost ripped up the sheets and made my own cave-man like skirt.  Damn. 

Now that I have scarred the memories of the X-ray techs and re-assured the rest of the ER that, yes, I am wearing panties, it's time for the 15 pints of blood to be taken into 300 little tiny tubes, each holding about 2 drops of blood each.  My nurse assures me that the test will only take a few hours to complete.  Meanwhile, I get to sit here and watch my IV drip into my arm, increasing my fluid intake so that I can walk down the long hallway and around the corner to the bathroom while pushing my monitor, 4000 tassle cords, IV and holding together my backless robe so my ass isn't hanging out, literally. 

I also found it interesting to listen to the nurses/techs/random folks make small talk at the nurses station...these people have a lot of time considering this is an ER, but since I was doing nothing but laying around picking my nose, no big deal.  None of them passed physics, obviously, because sound does travel through curtains, surprisingly clear as a bell. 

Nurse 1: "Can you believe Karen called in sick again?  Does she EVER work?"
Nurse 2: "Room 8 just asked me to turn her IV down...this is her second bag.  Wow, she must really like it here."
Nurse 3: "Did you see that Room 4 is wearing only a thong under her robe?"  ::blush::

Ok, not really, but some of the conversations were pretty good, or I was just really bored, or they slipped something funky in my drip.

So after all this trauma, a good 30 minute nap and a meaningful conversation with the admissions gal (who really doesn't get a lot of respect....) there are no hard conclusions, but it's pointing towards a heart beating problem.  The doc told me what it could possibly be, and it was something like this:  atrial-prexometionsh-dremaieamnon     Seriously.  I just stared at him and pretended HE was the one sitting in a robe without a back in a thong.  It made me feel a lot better.

I follow up with my doc later this week on the blood work, heart monitor, and underwear protocol.  I ran 2 miles today at the gym (God, I hate the treadmill more than a backless robe!) and felt fabulous.  Bring it on!

Have you ever had an ER visit that lasted forever? 

What about thongs...yes or no??

PS:   Do they teach you to completely drain all life giving and warm blood from your hands in Nursing School?   :-/