So, I saw the surgeon last week. Nice guy, and he did his internship and residency at Allegheny General in Pittsburgh. Since my husband and I were born and raised there, that was a little comforting. Pittsburgh is UPMC (University of Pittsburgh Medical Centers) everywhere. I’m a Pitt graduate myself; so, it felt a little like home. Anyway…
Now I need to be OK’d by a cardiologist to have the surgery. Another doctor that my husband has been seeing over 20 years or more was enlisted. But he, his PA, and the nurse were all surprised that I hadn’t seen a cardiologist before. I mean, I’m 73. Is that a requirement? I guess so. My husband was fixed by this team of lovely people, so I’m happy about him, too.
But now I need a bunch of tests before the cardiologist will OK me for surgery. Ugh. I’m taking a 20-minute drive to and fro. Down the freeway to get there, too. It’s crazy this time of year, and every year it gets worse. It’s season. There was so much traffic coming back north that I kissed the ground when I got back home. NOT kidding. Florida traffic in season is the pits. I should be used to it from living in L. A., but guess what? It”s just like that now. People are moving here in droves and there’s no infrastructure to hold them.
So, I already did the EKG, and now, I need to do a stress test next week and be fitted with a harness for three days to see how my heart acts during the week. Great. My husband says those are the worst part. Then, I need my carotid arteries sonogrammed, and still, an echocardiogram. Then, I get to see the doctor and be cleared.
Or not. What if not? I was so overwhelmed that I forgot to ask. Duh.
Surgery is December 1. It’s tentative, of course, but I really don’t think there’s anything wrong with my heart. At least, I’m praying not.
Then, surgery is three small cuts and a robotic procedure to remove the whatever that is in my lung. This is SUCH good news! That means I won’t have another scar from my breastbone to my spine. Yes. That would truly suck. So, I’m very happy that’s not happening.
Four more days though. Four. I’m treasuring every minute I’m not being poked, prodded, and having things stuck to me.
But I feel better that something is at least planned to happen. I want this thing OUT of me so that I can carry on and go my merry way for the rest of my life. Yeah, that’s the ticket! I’m not scared or angry or anythng, really. I just see this whole thing as a job that needs done. Let’s get ‘er done, like they say here. Get ‘er done!