Living with a Hiatal Hernia … By: Kathy D, Contributing Author

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I‘m Thinking, “For what?”

Still not knowing what was going on, I was beginning to become frightened. Scared to death is more like it.

My nature was, and still is sometimes, to keep things bottled up. As I sat patiently in the waiting room with my husband and mother-in-law, they didn’t have a clue.

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I just prayed everything was going to be alright.

After what seemed like hours, they finally called me back into the office.  “Here it comes.”

The cardiologist said, “Because of the results of your tests, and your family history, we’re going to schedule a procedure next week.”

“What kind of procedure?” I asked.

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“We’re going to have to insert an angiography catheter to detect if there is blockage in your blood vessels.

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“OMG!” I’m thinking, “this is getting serious.”

So What’s Next?

On the day of the procedure I was told to arrive at the hospital by 7 a.m., with an empty stomach.

They had me sit in the cardiac outpatient wing, where I waited “patiently, so to speak” to be examined. When my name was called, I was escorted to the bed and given a hospital gown to put on.

The same nurse from before, the one who had snatched me off the treadmill, said, “We’re going to place you under a local anesthesia, “hon,” do you want to watch the monitors during the testing?”

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My husband, who has a notoriously weak stomach, looked at me and laughed out loud saying, “She don’t know who she’s talking to,” because he knew. He is always teasing me about how I like to watch medical procedures on television, (while he leaves the room) so he knew the answer was a definite, “yes.”

Once the nurse got me hooked up to an IV, the waiting began. I was allowed to sit up and watch TV while waiting for my turn in the operating room.

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Now I understand why they call it the “waiting” room. My wait went on for seven hours due to the fact that a few people who were having procedures had heart attacks, while on the table, during their operations. Those were emergencies. Mine was not that serious.

Believe me, listening to all the commotion outside my room did not set well. The stress started to creep in. I don’t know if stress causes hunger but boy, let me tell you, I was ready to eat and even worse, I hadn’t been able to drink anything. Way off my routine.

Finally in the late afternoon, my stomach was in the midst of an exceptionally loud  growl when the nurse came to the door and said, “Time to go “hon.”

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See Pt. 2 Caught Off Guard

See Pt. 4 Time to Go “Hon”

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CK Dillon

Contact: Charles@CreateVitality.Com

On the Web: Http://CreateVitality.Com

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