Saturday, February 01, 2020
Chicago Med
I've been getting my heart checked out lately, since it turns out five of my relatives on my dad's side have died of sudden cardiac events, one in the middle of a sentence. So far, there has been no cause for alarm, but lots of cause for embarrassment and frustration. Ain't medicine grand?
First I got a referral to a cardiologist, who I couldn't get in to see for like two months. She very patiently listened to my symptoms and then basically told me I was wasting everyone's time because all but one of my relatives who died of a heart attack was over 50, which they don't consider unusual. But she agreed to get some tests done, basically to shut me up.
Scheduling the tests was a treat, since I had to call two different numbers for the two different tests, and each one of them had to transfer me from scheduling to financial services to give me an estimate of my out of pocket liability. Then I was transferred back to scheduling, and then back to financial services, since apparently you need to make a deposit now to reserve a medical test, like you're AirBNBing the MRI or something. So the upshot was eight different phone conversations to schedule two tests.
Then, the electrocardiogram was, surprisingly, pretty much miserable. The woman kept jabbing me really hard in the rips with the scanner thing, and running it across my nipple as though she was trying to shave it off. Then she said she couldn't get good enough images, so they'd have to put me on an IV with a contrasting agent. Which is pretty much how everyone wants to spend a Wednesday morning.
The calcium test was fine. Aside from the ridiculously huge hospital gown they made me put on. I'm pretty sure you could have fit a family of four under there. But I rocked it, I'm not going to lie.
Anyway, I'm fine, pretty much. So I can't complain. Although obviously that's just an expression, since I just did.
I've been getting my heart checked out lately, since it turns out five of my relatives on my dad's side have died of sudden cardiac events, one in the middle of a sentence. So far, there has been no cause for alarm, but lots of cause for embarrassment and frustration. Ain't medicine grand?
First I got a referral to a cardiologist, who I couldn't get in to see for like two months. She very patiently listened to my symptoms and then basically told me I was wasting everyone's time because all but one of my relatives who died of a heart attack was over 50, which they don't consider unusual. But she agreed to get some tests done, basically to shut me up.
Scheduling the tests was a treat, since I had to call two different numbers for the two different tests, and each one of them had to transfer me from scheduling to financial services to give me an estimate of my out of pocket liability. Then I was transferred back to scheduling, and then back to financial services, since apparently you need to make a deposit now to reserve a medical test, like you're AirBNBing the MRI or something. So the upshot was eight different phone conversations to schedule two tests.
Then, the electrocardiogram was, surprisingly, pretty much miserable. The woman kept jabbing me really hard in the rips with the scanner thing, and running it across my nipple as though she was trying to shave it off. Then she said she couldn't get good enough images, so they'd have to put me on an IV with a contrasting agent. Which is pretty much how everyone wants to spend a Wednesday morning.
The calcium test was fine. Aside from the ridiculously huge hospital gown they made me put on. I'm pretty sure you could have fit a family of four under there. But I rocked it, I'm not going to lie.
Anyway, I'm fine, pretty much. So I can't complain. Although obviously that's just an expression, since I just did.
