Today is the cardiologist, another addition to Kelly’s team of local doctors, just to rule out any conditions that might be hidden by long covid. Dr Christiana is my cardiologist, not that I need him much. I went to him 6 years ago after the left ventricle of my heart bulged out like a balloon causing heart attack symptoms that hit one morning while I was placing a folded t-shirt in my dresser drawer. A sudden insistent pain branched from my chest up my jaw down my right arm. Hmmm. Indigestion? “Maybe I should take a digestive aid and see if that takes care of it,” I told my roommate, Hope, knowing it wouldn’t. The classic signs were there. While I waffled, Hope called 911, initiating a cascade of activity.
Maybe someday I will write the whole story in detail: the diversion from Kingston Hospital to Vassar’s Heart Center, the sirens, the friends and Kelly magically arriving in tandem, the out of body experience, the denial, the days in the hospital, the woman in the bed next to me who refused a nurse of color. How I was sent home with an arsenal of drugs for conditions I didn’t have, and the predictable 3-month complete healing – sans drugs. Pushing against the cookie-cutter treatment while trusting my own knowing.
I chose Dr Christiana because he had a reputation for listening. I wanted support ditching the drugs. And now, on my yearly check-ups he tells me I am boring, everything is healed and he doesn’t have anything to save.
Even though Kelly is in her 50’s I am the Mom. In my now-healed heart, I am wrapping her up in a blanket and taking her to the doctor. I will sit in the little straight-back chair in the corner of the bright exam room while she sits on the table with the disposable paper cover. We will have a chatty visit while we wait. I will want to speak for her to be sure the doctor knows everything. I will hold back. Kelly is perfectly capable of expressing herself. I will remember what Kelly told her aunt on our zoom call yesterday, “It means a lot to have someone with you at the doctors.” And I will be glad that someone is me.
Such respect for this writer to heal her own way and be so right about her own body, well done and well written. Also appreciate the respect for her adult child to be willing to take the proverbial back seat and just be there, just be a presence, and in fact let the child speak for herself just as the writer spoke for herself.
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on being a boring cardiology patient and for having faith in your own instincts. These doctor visits together are such fine detailed pictures of intimacy between mother and daughter.
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