Matters of the Heart

Goal Four of “7 in ‘11” was to make doctors’ appointments and take vitamins regularly.  The vitamin thing hasn’t quite stuck.  But on Monday, I went to my first doctor’s appointment in over two years!  You know how it is - you move some place new and it’s always an ordeal trying to find a new doctor, a new dentist, a new hair salon, a new cheesesteak place, and other important things like that.  But finally, I have a real doctor!  (And she’s funny…which is always a bonus!  I appreciate humor after waiting over an hour and a half to see someone.)

The thing about doctors, however, is that when you tell them that your grandfather died of a heart attack, your uncle died of a heart attack, your other uncle had congestive heart failure, your mother had a heart attack and now has a pacemaker, and you’re planning on running a 5K (Goal 5) but the only regular exercise you get is the extremely long walk from your car to your office and back again…the thing is, they insist on giving you an EKG.  And the thing with my EKG was that there was an “irregularity.”  Now, don’t go getting all worried…the funny doctor is pretty sure is has something to do with the unique physical structure of my chest cavity.  I’ve been “referred” to a cardiologist.  No biggie. 

I did tell Deputy Pepper at work because he’s calm in crises and I figured if I collapse and die in front of him, he’ll know what to do.  He’s been really great…peeking over our shared cube wall to ask if my heart has exploded yet or reminding me to update my life insurance so that he’s my beneficiary.  He’s always been a really caring, considerate pal.   

But here’s the thing.  I told my mother.  And now my mother’s worried.  I’m 31 years old and my mom still worries about me.  I guess that’s what parents do.  They love us, they send us out into the world when we’re ready, and they still worry about us, long after we’re grown up, because their hearts are so big and filled with this crazy love that maybe only parents really understand.  It’s pretty amazing that someone could love another human that much.  So, despite rolling my eyes at my mother’s expressions of worriment, I’m grateful that I have someone who loves me like that.  And no, Mom, I haven’t called the cardiologist yet!