Today as I continue to inch closer to cardiac rehab at an alarmingly slow pace, I got to participate in a stress test. As the technician was sanding my chest ELEVEN times for ELEVEN electrodes, I thought OK THIS IS DEF A BLOG POST. But before I get to the test, let me tell you about the destination. Cardiac Rehab. I am ALMOST in rehab. Almost. 

Why Cardiac Rehab?

Once you’ve had some kind of heart attack (stemi, non-stemi, total, partial, added stent, surgery, some drugs, lots of drugs… so many choices…), and it’s been repaired, you still feel a bit, shall we say, scared shitless to do anything. When I was released from hospital after my SCAD heart attack two months ago I was told not to lift anything over 30 lb, not to do any vigorous exercise other than walking and yoga. Pay attention. “YOU KNOW THE SIGNS NOW”, said the nurse with a meaningful look. Ya, ok… sure thing. Yes I do. No showers. Call 911.

So now, when faced with various and sundry activities such dancing like no one’s watching at a wedding, or  swimming in cold water at the lake, you tend to second guess yourself. Your brain has this conversation:

I’m so freaking hot – I’ll just jump in the lake and swim to the raft. (Dip the toe.) Holy Christ, the water is freaking cold! Hmm. What if it’s such a shock to the body that I have a heart attack?

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HAVE A HEART ATTACK!!

How do you know? I might.

IT’S NOT GOING TO HAPPEN AGAIN. 

How do you know? It might. 

YOU ARE A TOTAL WUS.

Seriously, we are in the middle of nowhere. If I have a heart attack it’s going to be a serious pain in the ass. Maybe I’ll just put my feet in. 

FOR CHRIST’S SAKE. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? WALK DOWN THE LADDER GRADUALLY. 

I never do that! That’s def for a wus. I jump in or forget it. 

OH. MY. GOD. 

So ya, in my opinion, cardiac rehab is going to allow me, the boobless wonder with the questionable heart, to exercise AT THE HOSPITAL and build confidence. That’s basically why I signed up. Let me exercise with a stretcher in the same room. Thanks very much. 

What is Cardiac Rehab??

Yes yes, it’s seems a bit obvious – rehabilitation for your heart. True. But what IS it? Apparently it’s not just working out in the same room as someone who can operate a defibrillator. Nope. Nope it’s not.

Side note: I was given the choice of doing Cardiac Rehab at the hospital or at the Wellness Centre. I mean really?? What heart attack survivor wants to exercise away from the hospital? I know I know. I have a long way to go. 

Before you can start Cardia Rehab, you get tested tested tested and fill in questionnaires and have interviews. And THEN you are expected to exercise in a variety of ways (kinda like I was going to do BEFORE the heart attack). AND you are expected to eat better (I figure that this healthy eating thing is just for the atherosclerosis people, you know, the ones with crap in their arteries- mine are just falling apart – totally different. I say this as I sip on some Kim Crawford Sauvignon Blanc. Hey, I was sanded today, I deserve it!). Anyhow, you meet all of those expectations and eventually you are strong and HEALED! 

Side note: I’m so thankful I don’t have atherosclerosis because it’s a bitch to say. I can never seem to pull it off in a conversation with the nurses. 

Last week I went for my first appointment at Cardiac Rehab – had the tour and met with a nurse (?) therapist (?) who was very friendly and laughed at all of my jokes. I liked her obviously. I had to fill out a massive questionnaire about my eating habits – indicating on a sliding scale things like # of portions and healthiness for each food category. For example: light and healthy oils for cooking on the left, margarine in the middle, butter butter butter on the right. I knew I should be circling shit on the left, but it was almost always on the far right. Oh well. Good to have a crappy baseline. Easy to improve. 

Once she knew everything about my health and diet and what I’ve been doing since my heart attack (nothing), she told me about all of the classes that I can sign up for. They’ll teach me about the heart. And heart attacks. What to do. That kind of thing. As I was thinking lots of things in my head that weren’t very positive and likely on the arrogant side (but keeping my face interested), she told me that there was a class about to start that I might be interested in some day. She swept the curtain back with a flourish, and there, seated in a semi circle attached to various oxygen machines or mobility devices were my comrades. It was so hilarious. I mean. OMG. I was just so funny. Anyway. 

Then I was told that I couldn’t start till I had a stress test. Wait for the call. Okie dokie! Outta there. 

What is a Stress Test? 

Ahh well, it is actually a bit stressful. I went to Cardiac Rehab on time but by mistake, then had to rush to the Cardiology Clinic downtown to find that I was an hour early. Sheesh. CHEMO BRAIN. (I’m for sure going write about that next.) PLUS, during the test I couldn’t take a selfie – I was holding on for dear life. Stressful. 

First the technician had me sign something. I didn’t read it of course. It was likely about having a heart attack – but I figure that’s her job, so it’s as good a place as any to have my next one (inside voice). She gave me a cute little pink top that I thought about stealing to go with my hospital pants. I had to leave it open at the top so that she could attach the 11 electrodes.

THEN I SAW THE SANDPAPER, and without any “I’m really sorry that I have to do this”, she just started scratching away at my lily white skin. OMFG LET ME TELL YOU! The last time I was sanded was just before my angiogram and I thought I was going to punch the nurse in the face. At the time my skin was almost transparent from the chemo so it was horrifyingly painful. This wasn’t as bad since my skin is healthier, but ELEVEN TIMES, PEOPLE! How good of a connection do you really need? Why not just hack away at it? Grab a carrot peeler? For reals. 

Then she put on a blood pressure cuff. Took a reading and we got started. I had to walk on the treadmill with 11 cables, a chest pack and a BP cuff till my heart rate got over 140 beats/min. I figured that would take no time at all, I’m so out of shape. But alas, apparently the beta blockers that make me so tired also slow my heart (for obvious reasons), so it took longer than I would have liked.  She told me that every 3 minutes the machine would speed up and the incline would go up and she would take my BP. I was doing well till it felt like I was power walking up the hill to my cabin (which is freaking steep). I was starting to worry about the next 3 minute interval and I was only at 130 beats / min … and then JESUS GOD I HAD TO RUN! Now, this is not something I do. I find running to be TOTALLY UNNECESSARY. After a while as I was holding on for dear life and likely looking totally panicked she said “getting tired?” and I gave her a WTF ARE YOU JOKING kind of face. She turned off the machine. By now the sanded chest was SCREAMING from sweat and I was ready to lay on the floor. But I decided to not do that. 

I did it. All done. I wait for the call for my first Cardiac Rehab session and hope that I don’t have to do that test again. If I do, I’m taking the pink top.