December 4. Stress Test.

Treadmill, radioactive syringe, the flying saucer passing over my chest at close range (beam me up) making radiology candids. And how I rebelled when the tech said “no biking.” I had thought she meant, like, forever. I’d rather die, I may have said. Well, “OK,” she may have said back to me.

“No, no, no,” she said, “just until the next test.” But that next test delivered the definitive video. Two 90 percent blockages. And now no folk dancing - how could a life style slip away so fast?

December 8. Artery Catheterization.

This sounds awful but it’s probably painless, you gotta love the doctor who does it to you, or you’re going to wish he let’s you sleep, or forget. The risks are low. A probe is inserted into an artery near the groin, and fished up to the heart. There the doctor releases nuclear dyes that are recorded in a video - a flick of my heart’s virtuoso performance 109,440 times a day. Having made blood flow visible, he reported a percentage of blockage of the arteries where the flow appeared to be constricted. He turned the camera into different directions - this was his opportunity for a thorough assessment of my heart. (Later in this story he gets a B- for his camera work.) Catheterization is for some an opportunity for instant corrections, but not for me. He removed the catheter and called a surgeon.

I had been required to sign a paper giving the cardiologist broad permissions while he held me sedated. Being shipped to surgery while unconscious would be routine in an environment of urgency. In my case “urgency” was a matter of judgment. Do I trust this doctor’s judgment? Well, let me tell you about that.

Next: Inducing Amnesia, Versed

“… when the tech said “no biking.” I had thought she meant, like, forever. I’d rather die, I may have said. Well, ‘OK,’ she may have said back to me.”