So yesterday I keep having these squeezy tight chest pains when I run or walk up stairs. For some reason walking up hills doesn’t do it to me. I feel better when I drink a huge mug of chicken broth, so I’m theorizing I must not have enough blood and the fluid helps up my blood pressure. I have severe anemia. My heart is starving for oxygen. And yet, my body is feeling impatient — it wants to go work out.
So I’m thinking, eh, something to ask my oncologist at my appointment today.
But then, at a Campfire leaders’ meeting last night, I stand up to sing the “Mmm Hmm I wanna linger” song with everyone and get a wave of chest pain so severe it releases one of those internal “Oh fuck” reactions.
So when I get home I call my oncologist. I babble something about not-wanting-anything-nor-to-see-her-before-our-scheduled-appt-but-the-oh-fuck-chest-pain-is-that-ok-or-what-and-I’m-really-not-worried.
“A bit more than a week into your chemo? It’s not your heart Suzy,” she says, “Have you ever had reflux? You’ve got reflux.”
I’ve never had reflux. How FUNNY.
Now that I feel I can eat and drink regularly, I’ve been trying to tea, fiber and probiotic-yogurt myself off of stool softeners. (I wasn’t really planning to share that with everyone, but there it is.)
I didn’t even have to take a single antacid. I just stopped eating so wierd and, uh, yeah, the ‘starving heart’ symptoms stopped.
So here’s the funny coda. My parents have both had early onset heart problems. Both of them have been told they had reflux when they were really dealing with multiple heart attacks and angina attacks. I comment to Francois “But mom was 56 years old.”
So last night I take that ‘What’s your real age?’ test they have on the web? (How to waste time when you don’t have a TV.) And this morning they provide me with my results.
I’m 56.1 years old.
Yeah? Well who cares.
I look damn good. 🙂
The canary is still healthy. In fact, I can’t find a single hair that wants to come out, anywhere.