Stressed Out Over Stress Test

I guess when you hit a certain age, you can't even bend over without having to get a physical or stress test first. Either that, or there is an arcade game in every doctor's office that doesn't take change, only co-pays. I found out the hard way and $40.00 in quarters later.

I had my first stress test this morning. Nurse asks me, "How you feeling today?" Let's see, you are shaving my chest with a Dry Bic Razor, sticking a cold wet (for lack of a better term) pastie on 8 different spots on my body and preparing me to get on a treadmill that was last serviced during the Spanish Inquisition with a tackle box with wires attached to my hip with most of my clothes off. "Um..I'm just ducky, thanks for asking."

Watching the heart monitor while I WAIT and wait for the doctor...SEE back issue blog http://cynicalbuzz.blogspot.com/2008/05/bleeding-for-godot.html

The monitor says I'm actually living for the moment at 45 beats per minute (bpm). Isn't that closer to unconscious than awake? As I think of the net results before I even step a foot on the treadmill, I watch my stress anxiety take the bpm's up all the way to 75 and I'm not even standing yet.

Cardiologist comes in and tells me to start walking slowly. (What? after sitting here waiting for 45 minutes, you want me to crawl on this rubber hamster wheel without stretching? Isn't that grounds for malpractice?)

I courageously say, "Crank it up doc, You told me to Fast before showing up and I need to eat something before my stomach sets off a need for a G.I. test."

Did I mention his lab assistant is taking my blood pressure every other minute. (HELLO, if you want me to finish this micro marathon sometime this morning, don't ask me to take my hand off the safety rail for 20 second intervals so you can squeeze my armpit and cause my arm to go limp)

After 10 more minutes, they elevate the treadmill to the Mt. Fuji setting and the assistant "accidentally" hits the 18 mph on the dial. At that moment I swear if they don't give me a Gold Medal just for surviving this race of life, I'm going to protest to the AMA and demand a new judge. --WHAT? too much Summer Olympics in my life this week?

I finish, I live, I scream (silently of course) as she rips my new hairless circles off my (NOW) pasty white skin and they tell me I'm fine until next year.

I dress, I jump in my car, open a energy bar I had just for this purpose and it has melted against the wrapper so I'm sucking the chocolate out of cellophane. Someone take my stress setting now, as I wouldn't even pass the WalMart employee exam. Plus, I hear the "Say Welcome in the first three seconds of observing a customer" section is a bear".