I had my cardiologist appointment Monday, appropriately enough, on Valentine's Day. And apparently, she heard something because she made me wear a heart monitor all day yesterday.
That was unexpected. The appointment started off ok. She speculated that I might have a mitral valve prolapse, which is apparently really common in women. Or it could be because of my thyroid condition. To be on the safe side, she suggested I get hooked up to a portable heart monitor.
She must've noticed the look of horror on my face.
"Is it really bulky?" I asked. Because at this point, it's 2 pm and I would have to go back to work.
"Nah, it's not that bad."
Riiiight. I looked like a modern-day Frankenmom, with wires darting all across my chest and a box the size of a Sony Walkman. Sure, it'd be cool if it were 1988.
And the worst part? I wouldn't be able to do any "strenuous activity" for the 24 hours. On Valentine's Day. You do the math.
Fortunately, the contraption is off and my next appointment is set for two weeks, at which point I'll have an echogram of my heart, or an ultrasound of my heart.
Symptoms this week: Surprisingly few. The nausea is gone for the most part, but I do feel like I've been hit by a truck. Usually around 4-5 pm is when I start to crash.
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