Posted on September 3, 2004 in Coronary
One of the valves leading into my heart shows a “slight abnormality” which means that I need to undergo an angiogram to see how much gunk there is collecting in the arteries that cling to the surface of the heart. Today’s ultrasounds do not tell me this: I watched as the cthulhoid yawning mouths of the valves opened and closed or waved like the wisps of dust that sometimes cling to air ducts –what Coleridge called “a stranger”.
Like a good doctor, the cardiologist won’t rule out bypass surgery until he has more information: what I need to discover is how much there is in there. The riffles in my stream of life seem light, so it is likely that this is curable with medication or angioblasty, meaning that I can take my hiking vacation in Utah’s canyonlands in a few weeks.
The atmosphere of this office was pleasant. The other cardiology group squatted behind a dark room where a gigantic large screen television blased Fox News coverage of the Democratic Convention or talk shows. News magazines and The National Review were the reading material. I felt anxious from the darkness and the grating conversation.
My new cardiologist was a pleasant young man. The office was well lit and decorated with acrylics of Mayan women. Classical guitar music played for the background accompaniment. The magazines were The New Yorker, Travel, and Sky and Telescope. I could see the ease in the face of the staff: they didn’t seem to be on the edge as did the ones at the theater of the absurd I was escorted from two weeks ago.
When you are at your ease, you are more likely to take serious news well.