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The tech, Oscar, comes into the room with a machine on wheels and stands next to me. “Okay, Mrs. Roberts, so what I’m going to do only takes about twenty seconds. You won’t feel a thing, no shock or anything,” he laughs though I’m not sure why. “People always think they’ll get electrocuted. Anyway, I’m going to stick these little pads to your arms, legs and some on your chest. Any questions?”
“No.” My heart is racing, wondering what they’re going to find. A blocked artery? An enlarged heart?
The bed is lifted at the same time as it’s flattened, and he practically brings me up to his face. I try very hard not to think about it when he opens up the flaps of my gown to expose my chest.
A female nurse comes in and works on the laptop attached to the EKG, just as he goes to work on attaching the pads to the insides of my arms, then my chest, then he unceremoniously lifts my heavy left boob and starts to stick some under there, too. I want to groan. I want to cover myself. I want this shit to be over.
Really, it’s over pretty fast. Oscar the tech covers me and goes to stand by the silent female nurse. They communicate so quietly I can’t make out what they’re saying at all, then he’s back, opening my gown once again, moving my boob like it’s just a piece of meat, and taking off the pads.
I cover myself and sit up as soon as it’s over and he smiles at me. Guess he’s used to it.
“Doctor Wade will be in shortly to go over the results with you.”
When Oscar walks out, a brown head peaks in, and I’m so relieved to see it’s Owen I almost cry from it.
“Can I come in?” he asks.
“Owen!” I reach for him and he comes into my arms, squeezing me. “Sorry it took me so long to get here. Jess texted me, but didn’t tell me what hospital you were in. Had to make a few calls, and even then, I was sent to the wrong floor.”
He pulls away and I hold his cheek in my hand. “No, you weren’t late. They just finished the EKG.”
His brows pull together in worry. “Have they said anything? Is there any indication that it is your heart?”
“So far they’ve only listened to my chest and did the EKG. The cardiologist said that if that doesn’t show anything, she’ll do an MRI.”
“How are you feeling?”
I take a few deep breaths. “Well, not great. But better now that you’re here.”
He smiles at me sadly, but doesn’t bring up any of our problems. Instead, he scoots me over and lays in the bed, putting his arm around me and bringing me close to him. “Why don’t you close your eyes for a bit, try to get some rest. I’ll be here to take you home.”
To my great relief, Owen stays there the six hours it takes to get the EKG results back, which showed no signs of cardiac distress, and the MRI they did just to be sure, which also showed a perfectly normal heart and lungs. It’s strange that when we have this sort of thing happen, you almost want there to be something wrong, just so that you have an explanation. Instead, the lack of an answer leaves you feeling even more ill.
When Doctor Wade comes in at the last hour and asks to speak with me privately, I tell her, “It’s okay, he’s my husband. He can hear whatever you have to say.”
Now, at this point I’m expecting her to say that they’ve found something even worse than heart disease, but instead she says, “Have you considered talking with a therapist?” I suppose that could be worse.
“Um,” I glance at Owen who is now sitting in one of the guest chairs to my right, over by the IV packs. “Are you saying I need a shrink?”
“Mrs. Roberts, we have looked at many possibilities. I’m not saying that there isn’t something physically wrong, the body is a complex thing. What I am saying is that with your symptoms, there is also the possibility that you are experiencing anxiety.”
“Like a panic attack?” God, even now knowing that this may all be in my head, I still can’t breathe right.
“In a way. Have you been under an abnormal amount of stress?”
I think hard. “Not really,” I say, though I’m not so sure that’s true. Usually I would associate large amounts of stress with financial problems. Even when Owen had his affair I didn’t have heart palpitations. Could this be because of everything that’s happened with Bo?
Doctor Wade looks as convinced as I feel. “Sometimes, anxiety can feel like you’re having a heart attack, amongst other things. Lack of sleep, lack of appetite, indigestion, tightness in your chest and yes, even an irregular heartbeat.”
Embarrassment creeps up my cheeks. “I don’t know what’s worse, feeling like a hypochondriac or being told I may be crazy and need to see a head doctor.”
“Anxiety doesn’t make you crazy, we all have it. And there is nothing wrong with asking for help when you need it. As far as your heart, I would rather check a thousand possible cardiac events if that meant that more women would listen to their bodies. The heart is strong, but it’s also a fragile thing. You have to listen to it or you could lose your life.”
I know she is talking about the physical heart, but for some reason when she tells me, I take the meaning differently. The heart is strong, but oh so fragile. And as I start putting two and two together, I begin to realize how true those words are.
