Today was a day of SHOCK & AWE and it had nothing to do with George W. Bush.
I had been having chest pains that started early Wednesday and were still prevalent when I awoke this morning. Knowing that I am leaving for a week-long vacation on Sunday, I thought it best to call my doctor and get it checked out.
So I get an appointment at 11:15a.m. out in Lake Forest, and I called my dad to give him the heads up. Typically when I happen to be out in the suburbs, he and I make an attempt to meet for lunch. In this case we made plans to do just that after my appointment, and then I anticipated going back to work.
When I went in for my appointment, my doctor listened patiently as I described my symptoms and then I returned the favor by patiently answering her questions. Her diagnosis: it could be a muscular strain or a pulminary embolism (i.e. blood clot) around my heart. She suggested a CAT scan as a precautionary measure.
I was stunned. I managed to stammer, “Well…I mean…that just sounds really serious…”
And that’s about the time that I couldn’t bring myself to talk anymore because I had burst into tears. I was not expecting to hear the word “CAT scan” ever in my life, let alone on a random Thursday appointment a week after my 27th birthday. Pulmonary Embolism did not fit with any plans I had, so naturally any mention of the word brought out the flood gates.
After some blood work (always a good time), I walked outside to my car, saw my dad, told him what was up, and again cried during my entire explanation of what happened. Being the amazing person that he is, my dad listened to what I said over a nice lunch, and calmly reassured me that doing this was the reason why I went to the doctor in the first place- as a precaution.
So about 40 phone calls later…it’s 3:15p.m. and I’m at Lake Forest hospital. I leave my dad in the waiting room, put on some scrubs, and walk into the room where the CAT scan is to be performed. The machine was scary enough to make me want to run all the way back to Chicago, but I managed to control myself. They put an IV in my right arm (keep in mind I had blood work done in my left arm earlier that morning), and I’m given the following instructions:
-Lay down on the tray with arms over your head
-Listen for instructions on when to breath and when not to
-When the iodine was flushed in my IV, I would feel immense heat, feel as though I wet my pants, and get a metal-like taste in my mouth
Yes, I kid you not…I for sure felt like I had wet my pants. Thankfully I didn’t.
The good news- my screen was CLEAN. Such relief, such gratitude. I’m supposed to get my blood work results tomorrow and in the mean time, take pain medication three times daily.
Huge thanks to my dad…who gave up his entire day and schedule when I asked him to go to the hospital with me (the emotional flood gates are starting up again just typing this). Thank you, Dad, for you support, love, and for your reassurance. Thank you to my mom, Erin, and Fitz who all made me feel like they were right there with me throughout the day. I love you all. Thank you God for health!!!
***On a side note…my doctor, in an attempt to likely stop me from sobbing during my blood work, told me that I look like “that girl that’s an actress who had Tom Brady’s baby.” I didn’t want to remind her that Tom Brady left “that girl” for a supermodel.
