The Cardiologist Called

I went to the hospital a little over 3 years ago with chest pains. This was not the first time I had this type of experience. But in some inner sense I had a sneaking suspicion this time was going to be different.

I was right. It was different.

Tests revealed some fairly significant blockages in my arteries and I underwent a catheterization procedure to have a stent placed in the main artery in my heart. Then just a couple of weeks later I had to have another procedure. More stents were needed.

Apparently a strict diet of Doritos, Twinkies and Pork Chops was not a wise choice, after all. Weird, huh? Now, I primarily eat lettuce and once in a while for a real treat I’ll chew my way through a big pile of celery. (That’s for special occasions when I’m feeling wild and uninhibited!)

One of the main challenges of this time in my life was not physical, however. It was mental or maybe it would be more accurate to say psychological. (I’m not sure I know the precise difference between the two terms.)

When these medical issues happened I came face to face with this realization: I am getting older and I am going to die.

I know. I know. This realization is about as obvious as it gets, but it genuinely bothered me.

Oh, don’t get me wrong even though I can be a little bit slow sometimes I knew that the clock continues to tick and someday we will experience physical death. We all know that, even though some of us prefer to never think about it. When I say I came face to face with this realization what I mean is that these blatantly obvious truths became realizations for me in a new way. A more uncomfortable way. A more tangible way. A more present way.

I am not alone and that matters. Someone is walking through this with me. But these realizations of life can still hit us in ways which require a bit of mental adjustment.

In my mind, I always considered myself to be relatively healthy. In fact, I may have had an unrealistic overconfidence regarding my physical health.

My parents, who were overweight most of their adult lives, lived into their 80s (my dad almost made it to 90) and were relatively healthy into their 70’s and beyond. They went for years and years in their 40s, 50s and 60s without going to doctors. My brother and sister are—at least compared to me—relatively healthy. I assumed relatively good health was in the genetic cards I had been dealt. When all this occurred my understanding regarding my personal health took a big hit.

I did not like having to come to grips with the fact that I was dealing with such significant health issues.

I remember the first time I talked to someone after these procedures and I used the phrase, “My cardiologist…” Man! That really bothered me. It still bothers me.

I have a cardiologist?

How can a guy like me have a cardiologist?

What the heck is going on here?!? I’m not supposed to have a cardiologist! That’s for sick elderly people!!!

Ninjas don’t have cardiologists, they just chew on special, medicinal herbs based on closely guarded, ancient martial arts secrets once in a while and everything is fine.

“Where’s Kwai Chang Caine when I need him?!?”

About 3 months ago, I had another episode and ended up back at the Emergency Room. Another heart catheterization procedure followed and this time most of my major organs were removed and replaced with digital cybernetic parts. I feel fine but my friends and family have noticed I’m now speaking with a thick Austrian accent.

I’m writing this story because my cardiologist’s office called me about 25 minutes ago. “Mr. Marler?” the voice on the phone inquired, “We need to reschedule your appointment.”

“I’m sorry, who did you say this is?”

“This is Dr. __’s office. You know, your cardiologist.”

“Oh yeah, I have a cardiologist, don’t I?”

…Yep, things are different.