I recently went to my doctor's office because I had been experiencing an increase in shortness of breath (I have long-standing lung problems) and occasional pressure in my chest.
The Physician Assistant who examined me decided he wanted to refer me for a "stress-echo" test. Back in 1980, I worked in Cardiology doing stress tests, so I was familiar with that part of it, but they did not do stress-echos back then. Turns out it is a combination of a stress test and an echocardiogram.
I am not addicted to exercise, and the fact that I get short of breath very easily did not give me confidence that things were going to end well. On the bright side, at least it got me out of work early.
I arrived at the Cardiology Clinic, signed in, and sat down in the waiting room. While I was killing time reading work emails on my phone, the fire alarm went off, and everyone needed to evacuate the building. We waited outside for about 20 minutes, then were allowed back into the building. I sat back down but, a few minutes later, the fire alarms went off again and everyone again exited the building. The fire department was still there, decided that there was a defect with the fire alarm, and allowed everyone back into the building.
There were three staff in the room to do the test. The Cardiac Tech (Jennie) got me connected to the wireless EKG equipment. The Echo Tech (Tiffany) operated the ultrasound equipment to test before and after the stress test. The nurse (Joy) monitored the high tech readout on the screen while I was on the treadmill. If I were being executed by lethal injection, I could not have asked for a more delightful group for the occasion.
In a stress test, you start walking on a treadmill and, every three minutes, it increases in speed and elevation. Surprisingly, I made it through the first two stages and started the third, although my legs felt like someone was stabbing them and I was struggling to breathe . If I had any pressure in my chest, I didn't notice it because of the struggle to breathe. I gave up, got back on the stretcher, and Tiffany did her thing with the ultrasound machine while I struggled to breath.
I have to thank the late Groucho Marx for the title of this piece, it was perfect for the occasion. While I wouldn't wish a stress echo upon anyone, the three ladies provided a positive aspect to an otherwise near-death experience. Thank you, Groucho, for finding the words to express my sentiments.
