I don't know how to tell you this.......

...but day two ended up being so bizarre that I have waited to write about it hoping that some great insight would come to me. But it hasn't, so here goes.

Maybe I should have suspected something was amiss when the technician called me two hours before my appointment to move it a few hours later due to the doctor being really busy, but I didn't suspect a thing. I used the extra time to get some work done, had a little something to eat per her instructions, and showed up on time ready and willing to have this chapter written and published (sorry, the writer and publisher in me just looks at life this way).

After waiting a little while, I was taken to the testing room where a wonderful technician explained what would happen and helped me get ready. Gown on, monitoring probes and blood pressure cuff in place, lying on a nice bed with my head angled perfectly, even warm blankets placed over me - I felt cared for in a way I hadn't experienced anywhere else during this four-month plus journey into the healthcare system.

Julie, the technician from day one, came and put the needle in through which the isotope material would be pumped. All was going well. We visited and laughed and had a good time. The doctor arrived and I said, "Ah, the last guest to arrive - thanks for coming to my party!"  He was taken aback and apologized for being late. I assured him all was well, I was just welcoming him to my party. He then relaxed and listened to my heart and lungs. Then he asked, "How long have you had the pain?" I said, "What pain? I have never had pain." He looked at the technicians and said, "Then why are we doing this test?" Uh-oh.

We explained the history. He seemed satisfied and after a few adjustments on the computer he was standing at, told the technician to proceed and inject the isotope material into my veins. Over the next five minutes or so, I shared what I felt as all three of them stood by, the doctor watching the computer readings, the blood pressure cuff taking measurements every few minutes (even the doctor got annoyed by that as did I), until he finally said we were done.

I had felt a little short of breath, my head hurt a little bit, and I had a feeling I called "fluttery" a few times - the doctor said that was a good description. I had no pain, no heart attack, nothing. The first and scariest part was over. I was told to get dressed and go wait in the lobby for part two. I thanked them for coming to my party, we all chuckled and parted ways. Part two was to be the same as yesterday's test except this time there would be probes attached so they could monitor my heart.

Here's where we get to the good part. I waited about an hour. The technician came and got me. I layed down on the funny "bed-trough," she hooked me up and off we went. Hands above my head, laying as still as I could, I closed my eyes realizing this was almost over and how easy it had been, just like everyone said. Julie said, "You're almost done - just seven more minutes."

And then.....the camera made a strange sound. It tried to move and couldn't. It made another strange sound. I thought, wouldn't it be bad if it broke and fell on and crushed me. It is big and quite heavy. Julie came over and tried to adjust it so it would move. She couldn't. She said, "I'm sorry, we have to do this again." Yes, I was annoyed - wouldn't you be? My arms hurt so I asked if I could put them down and stretch them out. Yes, said she, so I did. Julie started the test over. I thought to myself, "Just 20 more minutes and this will be over." As we neared the end of the test again, I felt it in my bones but told myself I had to be wrong. Nope, as we neared the end, here came the funny noise again.

Julie stopped the test with only minutes to go. She said the machine was broken. She would have to call in a technician. It would take a half hour for him to arrive to see if he could fix the machine. If he could, then we would do the test a third time. But if he couldn't fix it, I would have to do the entire day over again! Yes, the first part, too. Why? Because the isotope material they had injected would be out of my system fairly soon. Without that in my system, the pictures would be meaningless.

I went to the lobby where Rhonda was waiting, ready to go home. I explained what was happening. We waited an hour. Julie came out and said the technician had arrived and was working on it and was fairly sure he could fix it. Another 45 minutes later, she came out and grimly announced that although he had fixed the initial issue, now the machine wouldn't calibrate and couldn't be used. They needed parts and it would be at least early next week before the machine would work again. She would call me for a new appointment.

So: yes, it was easy enough, but am I excited about spending another day of my life doing the same test again (and not having my morning coffee)? No. Do I really want to do the second part of the second day a third time? No. Am I feeling frustrated? Yes. Because, you see, until my cardiologist gets the results of these tests, she can't/won't make a diagnosis and that means no treatment plan and that means my movements continue to be  seriously hampered due to the strong diuretics I am having to take.

And so, day two is over and life goes on! I am keeping my sense of humor and adventure; but, this whole process is definitely wearing a bit thin! All I can say is: stay tuned!