The aftermath

The nurse told me the sedatives they’d administer during my transesophageal echocardiogram (TEE) would make me feel “like I’ve had a few pints.”

Which is why when I walked with E on wobbly legs back to the car, I sunk into the seat like a drunk, leaned my head on the base of the open window, and conked out  while he took care of paperwork inside the hospital.

When he got back to the car, he reclined my seat and I drifted in the limbo between being  asleep and awake, the warm September sunshine making everything in the car feel so cozy, my mind drifting like a leaf on a breeze.

Images slide behind my eyes and words float slowly through my brain, finally catching in my consciousness. Did the doctor tell me I have a hole in my heart? I think he did.

If I try I can conjure a blurry memory of his face hanging above mine and his words falling  “An opening in the membrane of the heart.”

My eyes and limbs are heavy. I won’t open them. I don’t want to wake up yet. I want to stay in the sunny safe place where I have not received bad news, where I can still wonder whether I really have a hole in my heart. Truth taps me on the shoulder and shakes me, truth courts my rational mind, which is opening ever so slowly, like a moonflower at dusk.

I'm starting to remember. When he spoke to me at the end of the procedure, my mind had grabbed on to the first part of what he had said: “No clots in the atria…” The words I was waiting for made it easy to let go of the rest: “but a hole in the membrane of your heart.”

We hear what we want to hear. We know what we want to know.

I’ll call my cardiologist when I’m ready to know more, when I’m ready to face what comes next--changes in medication? surgery?

Comments

[Arabella]

I don't blame you for taking it slowly. Be good to yourself. I'm thinking of you.

[Di]

Take care of yourself.

[Shirley]

That cozy, foggy state sounded quite good. Our bodies and minds do shelter us, don't they? Anticipaton on what this means must be difficult. Hopefully, it means that they will have solutions now that they know more. Many hugs to you (hugs at a distance though because of that big bust of yours ... hope I got a little smile out of you on that one--you started it. LOL). I know you will keep us posted. I'll be thinking of you guys as you await more info.

[amber]

We are thinking of you. Try to take it easy, although I know how hard it would be not to worry. I will say prayers. :)

:)

[Mary]

Holy crap! From I might have heart snot to I have a hole in there that isn't supposed to be? I hope your keyboard isn't so cavalier now!

Truly, I am so glad your doctor pursued this instead of letting it go. Good doctor. But, shoot, who wants to hear that kind of news?

Prayers will continue to head in Belgium's direction. Please keep us posted. Not just what the doctor says but how you are doing.

[deezee]

Thank you for so eloquently sharing your tale. In my place of optimism, I will assume that if they let you walk out of there, they are not urgently worried. I hope.

[Shirl Grrrl]

Keeping you in my prayers...

[Angela]

I'm sorry to hear it wasn't all rosy news. I'll be keeping you in my prayers.

[Flubberwinkle]

The sedatives sounded consoling. You're in my thoughts and sending positive vibes towards Belgium.

[Elisabeth]

Of course, you are in my thoughts. I do agree that it is a good thing that this doctor pursued the matter and found out what it was. Now, big decisions, it seems need to be made. Medication, surgery? What are the options?

Man, life can be damn tough at times... I bet that you want to be sedated again.

[Clare]

Thinking of you. Keep your chin up.

[TB]

You are in my thoughts. I hope the news is better than you are expecting. And please take care of yourself.

[Tonya]

Hang in there! You have a strong heart from all those years of running. It will pay off. My mum-in-law has a hole in her heart that wasn't discovered until she had a baby. They didn't do anything about it and she is 72 now and still kicking.
: )

[wordgirl]

Holy Crap! And I say that in the most astonished way possible. I've been a sinus-induced funk of a pity party and here you are with something real and worrisome. I am SO thinking of you and...yes...sending a prayer your way. Take care. Take it slow. Do what the doctor says. Keep us posted.