"If you don't find something you can fix, I will be greatly disappointed," I stated matter-of-factly to my cardiologist. And I was serious. Dead serious. I was laying in my hospital bed waiting to be wheeled into the cath lab to get a clear picture of what was happening--or not happening--inside those skinny little coronary arteries. If he did not find something to stent, like he did five years ago, my symptoms would have no chance of being validated.
I will spare you all the details, but my running has really taken a dive over the last few months. The group of women I run with can be chatting it up having a great time, only to unintentionally pull away and leave me eating their dust. I try to keep up but it's like my engine is throttled back by a governor, heart rate zooming upwards to no avail. I simply can't go. I feel my chest tighten and throat close. I have to walk. I hate being the anchor. Lately, I make excuses to why I can not join them on those long Saturday runs to avoid holding them back and embarrassing myself.
So I run alone. That way, I can control the pace. But alas, I have no get up and go. That same tightness comes and goes, resolved by walking but with sub-zero energy. I makes me wonder if my genetically-produced coronary artery disease is misbehaving again. Surely, I don't want to keel over up in the mountains but my symptoms beg the question if I should even be there. Friends encourage me to call my cardiologist. Perhaps I should. But what if nothing is wrong? I am more terrified of that than an occluded vessel.
Then again, I've been under a lot of stress with a work situation. And, I am 67 and not at the pinnacle of fitness. Maybe this is all par for the course. I certainly do not want to be a hypochondriac worry-wart. Just suck it up, I tell myself. You're fine. Nothing is going to happen. It's all in your head.
That said, I did make that office visit last week and had my third cardiac cath this morning. I cannot begin to tell you how much I wanted there to be a blockage because that kind of problem can be addressed without much difficulty. But no, with the sedation being quite light, I was able to see the dye coursing through the arteries. The stent in the LAD was wide open and though there were a handful of areas with 20-30% blockages, those pose no real problems.
My problem, therefore, becomes how I deal with this good news that I perceive as bad news. Should I assume all my symptoms are figments of the imagination? Am I not tough enough? Am I a wus? Am I relegated to "has-been" status with no good running days ahead? I cannot begin to tell you how much I detest this situation!
So what to do? Perhaps this is an opportunity to force myself into gratefulness knowing that the likelihood of a catastrophic cardiac event is slim. I can look forward to the end of May when I walk out of my office for the final time, leaving the frustration and stress behind. Having more control of my time, I can start over again, building back a consistent and strong aerobic base. Maybe I can teach myself to ignore my symptoms based on the reality of what those cine films revealed. And perhaps the added pharmaceutical approach to address a potential microvasculature issue will be effective.
So here I am at my keyboard figuring out my next move. I think I will contemplate life a little longer, be sad for a few more moments that there are no easy answers, and then go for a run.
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Onward and upward for both of us!