I saw my new cardiologist yesterday on Valentine's Day. He is also a transplant to Montana, originally coming here from Virginia. There was an easiness about him that made me feel comfortable. I didn't get nearly as nervous and sweaty as I normally would have, and he didn't make me tell my story from scratch, rather he actually read and reviewed my chart. That was a huge checkmark on the plus column for him.
I am wearing another heart monitor and will be starting an additional medication. He isn't convinced that I have a true cardiomyopathy (although he did refer to it that way several times in our discussion), but he thinks all of my symptoms are from the dysautonomia. He isn't willing to bet my heart muscle on that theory, though, and wants me to continue on the meds. I am fine with that as it allows me to get up and function every day.
In addition to attending to the affairs of my heart on such an auspicious day, I also took all of our paperwork to get our taxes done. I almost had heart damage when I saw how much it costs to have someone do your taxes!! Seriously. I mean, the whole reason I am not doing them this year is because they are too complicated for me, but over $300 seems extraordinary.
You know those cute aliens that suddenly turn on you and have wide mouths with razor-sharp teeth? That was the impression. I had gone in the day before to make the appointment and the ladies at the front reception were very sweet and chatty. They were older, giving off that grandma-vibe. Once I passed the threshold, however, I could hear and see how they truly felt about clients. Why is it that professionals somehow forget you can see and hear when you are sitting in a waiting room? Someone should study that.
The tax staffperson did not go very far in alleviating the nausea I was experiencing over the price of this service, I have to say. She kept telling me that she was good at her job. Why would she think saying that would make me feel better? If you had a nurse treating you, and you were super nervous and not sold on the treatment plan, would it help if he/she kept referring to her Employee of the Month pin? I doubt it.
The hubby was a dear, as usual. He fixed up dinner from the parts I had assembled together, did dishes, bought me chocolate, and listened to my day. Mind you, these are things he does regularly, so I am very blessed indeed.