Last week I had a stress test done. It was one of the last things I had to do before I can get the in-hospital testing done which will determine if I can take part in the transplant trials. After six emails and three phone calls the results were finally faxed to the transplant team and I have a date for my hospital tests. I will go in on the afternoon of November 17th and spend about 24 hours there. I am happy to be making progress even if though it seems slow going. So that is the news on that front, but I thought I might share a little about what the stress test was like as a sort of public service announcement, in case anyone out there ever has to have one.
Before the test I received a letter from the Dr.'s office saying that I should not eat one hour before the test and to wear loose, comfortable clothing. So on the day of the test, I did not eat an hour before the test and I wore loose clothing and shoes I might walk the dog in, sturdy and comfortable but not quite running shoes. I was prepared for what I thought would be a brisk walk and excited to get it done so I could move on with the transplant efforts. It was the Friday afternoon of Columbus Day weekend and I had not anticipated the heavier traffic. The office was only a couple of miles away in the Elmwood neighborhood of Berkeley but the traffic, a wrong turn on a dead end street coupled with a driver who decided to pull out in front of me and stop (even after honking the horn they just stayed stopped blocking all traffic??) meant I was late. I hate being late so I was a bit flustered when I arrived, but they were very nice about it and took me right into the room for the test. Now I'm not a Puritan or anything but it was a little odd when the nurse gave me what was essentially a piece of tissue paper which was to open in the front and said to remove all clothing from the waist up and put this on but did not leave and did not shut the door. Hmm... ok whatever, I put it on. She proceeds to place sticky squares all over my chest and hook me up to wires. She does an ekg and ultra-sound of my heart. "Now we need you to get on the treadmill" she states innocently. I get on the treadmill, still attached to all the wires, which are attached to a machine that goes beep. She also puts a blood pressure cuff around my arm and leaves it there, and I am still in my little tissue paper number. The treadmill starts at a slight incline and a faster than a stroll pace. I am walking along, things are good. The speed and incline are increased, it is now a brisk pace and I can feel the incline effecting my muscles. The treadmill isn't like the ones in the gym, there are no speed and incline numbers on it, so I cannot report them exactly, only their effect on me. The speed and incline was manipulated by a button one of the two nurses conducting the test was holding. I ask how long the test will take, not yet concerned but just wondering. The nurse says, "However long it takes to get your heart rate up to 184," I look at the machine to my right, it says 100. I am not sure if this is good or bad news, but am still optimistic. She increased both speed and incline again, I am forced to run. It has now been about 15 minutes I would say give or take, I am running with the tissue paper blouse crinkling and sans a sports bra or any at all. I am thinking positive thoughts, I look to my right, I am up to 130. The number creeps up so slowly that I try not to watch it. "You're going to want to hold on now" the nurse with the button explains. Now I am getting a little worried, I grab onto the bar in front of me as the speed and incline are increased to levels that even on my best day in the gym I would not attempt. I am now flat out sprinting, my tissue paper cloak is soaked my hands are slipping off of the life saving bar, and every few minutes the nurse on my left tries to take my blood pressure, which at this point feels like a bag of bricks weighing me down. I keep running, cursing my shoe choice as every landing of my foot sends a shock to my knees. This stretch seems to be twice as long as the others, the nurses start talking about the time, concerned by how long it has been, I look to my right, 152......153. In an apologetic tone, the nurse with the button says, "I have to increase it again". I prepare, I run and run, sweat is pouring off from me, I can barely hold on, I feel dizzy and nauseous, 164....I start to think of saying I cannot go on...165...... 184 seems like an eternity away. The nurses whisper together, I am about to tell them I cannot go on, when the one with the button says, "Can you hold on 20 more seconds? We can stop at 170." I say nothing but keep running. The treadmill is stopped just like that, and I go flying backwards, the two nurses catch me and lay me on the table where this test began. They do another ekg and ultra sound while every muscle up my legs begins to cramp up from the sudden stopping. I can hardly get a breath and can feel a puddle of sweat forming underneath me. It's done. The button pressing nurse, who I now have some resentment towards, hands me a paper towel to dry off, it is useless. She tells me I can get dressed and again stays in the room with the door wide open, but at this point I am not even phased by it. I stuff my bra in my bag, tear off the tissue paper shirt and throw on my t shirt, All I want to do is get out of the office as quickly as I can! I somehow managed to thank the nurses, although I'm not sure how sincere it really sounded. Once outside I felt I had escaped a torture chamber, my head was still spinning, I was sightly confused, and couldn't remember the way home.
I made it of course, and now the whole thing seems so ridiculous, maybe I just was expecting something different. I do think if I had to do it again, knowing what to expect, it would not seem so bad, which is why out of the goodness of my (stress tested) heart I am relaying this absurd tale. My advice if you ever have a stress test (1) insist on wearing a sports bra, (2) wear your running shoes (3) stretch before hand and (4) don't plan on going on a date or anything afterwards.
my next stress test outfit
UCSF Medical Center
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