About a month ago I went to see my cardiologist to hear the results of my nuclear stress test. My cardiologist is a nice guy and I respect his opinion, but he always looks at me with a twinge of pity like I'm going to keel over right there in his office. I was already not looking forward to this appointment for this reason, so I wasn't surprised when he solemnly advised it was time for me to look into getting a defibrillator.
Feeling apprehensive about meeting with the electrophysiologist, I enlisted my mother to accompany me (Ryan would have gone with me had she not been available, but she really wanted to come). It sounds like my situation is not as dire as my cardiologist would have me believe. Yes, he has reason to be concerned, but the surgeon seemed to feel that 1) he's not entirely sure he can easily insert a defibrillator with my veins and small frame and 2) he's not even sure I need one right now. Apparently the next step is to go in for some testing that will follow some if-then logic to see if this is feasible/necessary. Bottom line is, I'm slightly relieved that this is not a done deal.
I leave you with a completely unrelated insane picture of me with a chocolate coffee at Kerby Lane: