I don't think that I mentioned here before that I've been having these pretty bad chest pains.
They've been happening on and off since February.  Towards the end of July, they started getting really bad, though, and then didn't go away. I really thought that a heart attack was imminent.Â
On the Wednesday morning before my acting final, I was sweaty and kind of panicked, and I finally called the doctor and arranged an immediate appointment. The whole drive there I kept thinking, "Please don't have a heart attack whhile driving to the doctor."So at the doctor's office, they hooked me up to an EKG and checked that. I'm surprised that it takes so little time to determine whether you've got problems using the EKG.
Thankfully, that turned out ok. After asking about other symptoms, the doctor prescribed some Protonix (kind of like Prilosec) for acid reflux, which he says can often feel quite painful and centralized in the chest. I've had heartburn before, but this didn't feel anything like that. Who knew that it could be like that?Â
In addition to the Protonix, he ordered some blood work and an upper G.I. test. I had the blood work done long before my followup appointment, and I have slightly higher bad cholesterol than he'd like. I get the impression, as with most medicine, that the baseline for "OK" is skewed because most people are never tested. Still, it's not too high, and can probably be adjusted quite easily with a slight change in diet and exercise.
But the Upper G.I. was this morning.
I wanted to document this procedure because this is one of those things you're going to want to know about before you go, just so that you're prepared. I was completely unprepared and didn't quite know what to expect, which probably wasn't healthy for whatever would cause my reflux problems.
Basically, they have you put on a hospital gown (I totally wasn't expecting this, and I'm not sure why) and then they take a couple x-rays. Then, they make you suck down some of these crystals that fizz like Alka-Seltzer, and they only give you the tiniest bit of water to wash them down. Remember, you haven't eaten or drank anything since 9pm the night before, so you're pretty dry already.
So the fizzy stuff inflates you, and they tell you, "Don't burp!" This is harder to do than it sounds. Then they load you onto the machine (standing) and take some more pictures, except this time, they make you drink this stuff.
When the doctor doing the test said to me, "You'll just take a mouthful of barium and then swallow it when I tell you to," I couldn't keep from laughing. It all just seemed too weird.
People say that barium tastes awful. I don't know. It really wasn't that bad. I've had beer that tasted worse. It's almost minty; like a thin, gritty milkshake that's room-temperature. Don't get me wrong - I wouldn't go around chugging it.
The barium helps illuminate your degestive tract when the machine takes the photos. You you're standing there taking sips of this stuff, and the doctor repositions you, and you sip some more. Repeat.
Then you chug what's left in the cup, and lay down on the table (the table actually moves from vertical to horizontal with you still on it) and they take more photos in that orientation.
They make you roll over three times before they take pictures so you coat your innards with barium. It's like some kind of weird gymnastics event, with you in a hospital gown, rolling around on top of an x-ray machine. After the rolling, they shoot more pictures, and frequently reorient you, telling you to hold your breath so that they can get a clear picture.
And then you're done.
The worst part on the horizontal table is when they need a closer picture, and they squish you under the machine. It really doesn't feel like any safety mechanism would prevent the machine from crushing you outright.
So that's it.
Oh, the results of my test?
Who knows! Apparently there is some small evidence of reflux, but I've been taking the Protonix and haven't felt anything in a while anyway, so that's pretty well expected by me. The doctor operating the test seemed more concerned about this weird thing in my tract, a little bubble in the tube. I forget what he called it. He says they're pretty normal, and mine didn't look damaged, just there, so he wasn't concerned. Yet he kept taking pictures of it.
And the people at registration wonder why I get fidgety when they start asking me irrelevant personal questions. I just know that all these photos are going to end up in a study or in a medical journal somewhere. I don't think it's enough that hospitals be required to provide you with their privacy policies, I think that the government should force them to provide you with a checklist of things that they do or don't do with their data. For instance, the privacy policy doesn't say, "We're selling your health details in aggregate to a marketing firm." But that's enough about that.
And so I left the machine room, got dressed, and went to Wawa for a morning muffin. Hopefully, these tests are over. If my family doctor doesn't like the results of this test, he may send me back to do a heart stress test, which is lovely, I hear.
