Goodbye, Benezepril!

True story: cardiologist's nurses are sneaks. They say they will stop the treadmill as soon as you tell them to, and then they go ahead and add in another blood pressure reading and kind of egg you on just to make sure you're really and truly on the verge of a heart attack before stopping the machine. Maybe I'm old school, but when I'm instructed to go until I absolutely can't anymore, that's what I do. So I was a little panicky when I did just that, and the nurse added another 30 seconds or so. I thought I was going to go flying off the back of the machine, hospital gown a'flappin'. Or worse, get yanked back because I was wired up in a dozen places.

So from this you can gather that I went to the cardiologist. They had told me over the phone it was a simple, resting ultrasound of my heart. When I got there, they said I needed a stress test on the treadmill, too. Fine by me, but I would have worn sweats instead of jeans if they'd told me that in the first place. At least I was wearing decent shoes.

They did the ultrasound, and took my blood pressure in all sorts of positions -- on my back, my side, standing, standing on my head. Well, that's an exaggeration, but when you factor in that they took it in each arm each time, it was a lot of measuring. The ultrasound was while I was resting on my left side on a puffy mattress. It takes a while, and it's silent, and so soft and relaxing...I nearly drifted off for a bit. My resting heart rate seemed to fluctuate between 50 and 80. Strange!

Then came the treadmill. Now, I've been going to the gym a minimum of 3 times a week, and even on days I don't go I try to do cardio from a tape. So I wasn't worried about a test they told me that would take between 6 and 12 minutes on the treadmill. It took longer to wire me up. But here's the thing: the lowest setting is a very, very brisk walk at a noticeable incline. The machine just said "level 1" but I would estimate the incline to be the equivalent of about a 6 on the gym machine. First three minutes were brisk, but I didn't break a sweat or get out of breath. Then the intensity went up - incline about 9, speed probably about a 3. Just below jogging. After a minute my legs were really feeling it, and I was definitely sweating! At 6 minutes, it jumped up again. This was incredibly fast, incredibly steep. I was holding onto the bar to keep from slipping backwards. About 20 seconds in, I gasped out that I was done. The nurse took another blood pressure reading (argh!) and I gasped it out again, barely able to speak: "I'm done!" She replied back coyly, "Are you suuuuure?" "@#$*%)% YES I'M DONE!" is what I wanted to scream, but luckily I was too out of breath to cuss. They finally cut the power and I dutifully jumped back on the bed to have my second ultrasound. I was sweating buckets. My highest heart rate was 170! Can you believe that?

Dad's comment when I told him about it afterwards was, "Now you see why people have heart attacks during those tests sometimes." Um, yeah. Part of my high heartrate was panic, I'm sure, when they didn't stop the machine like they told me they would. Holy moly!

The good news is....everything checked out fine and healthy! The whole reason I was referred to the cardiologist is that I fainted a little over a week ago, and I've been lightheaded. The cardiologist reviewed my test, I talked to him about losing weight, the medications I'm on. He took my blood pressure too (also on both sides) and found that I was at 108 over...something. Seriously, he only took the first number. (Too cool for diastolic, I guess. On the systolic tip, y'all, fo shizzle!) He looked at the blood tests I've done to find out why I've been dizzy, and told me to stop taking the blood pressure medication. Hurray! I've been on it for about 3 years, and I've lost enough weight to leave it behind!


I tried to find a picture of a stress test, but all the ones I could find are like this one. Yes, ostensibly it's correct - the guy is on a treadmill with a blood pressure cuff on, attended by a friendly-looking technician in a crisp white coat. A more accurate picture would have him in a hospital gown open in the front with a plethora of electronics strapped to him; he'd be pitched at a steep incline; he'd be holding onto that bar for dear life while sweat poured off his face; and most of all, he would NOT be smiling. The technician would be holding a pitchfork and making comments about the amazing athleticism of the Bay to Breakers runners while the test subject enjoyed the simulated experience of trying to outrun a bear straight up a cliff. But other than those piddly details, that's what a stress test looks like.