Me and Julio down in the ER
I had another attack on Sunday where my chest felt restricted, I found it hard to breathe or talk, I broke out in cold sweats, and my hands and feet got cold. I was worried enough that Kathy convinced me to go to the emergency room, no longer able to fool myself the other two episodes from Friday night were just a food allergy.
The emergency room doctor was worried enough to admit me for observation overnight and a stress test the next afternoon. A stress test is the one where you have an ultrasound of your heart done, then they do an EKG of you while you're running on a treadmill that continuously speeds up and inclines. Then when you get your blood pressure up to some max value, they tell you to hall ass back over to the hospital cot and lay down so they can do another ultrasound while your heart's still holding up a sign that says, "Kill me."
Long story short (which, according to the Chicago Manual of Style, is *technically* impossible once you've anthropomorphized an organ), my heart's great. The Indian doctor I had gave it two thumbs up, three "Beautiful!"'s, and even threw in a "My friend."
What it turned out to be was gallstones. Apparently I have a bunch. They're not that big a deal apparently, and something like 30% of the population has them, most not even knowing it since they're usually asymptomatic and don't cause any problems. The gallbladder itself isn't a critical organ, so much so that the number one treatment for gallstones is the removal of the gallbladder. But after reading horror stories about people having it removed only to still have pain, but now with a side of chronic diarrhea, I think I'll opt for trying a low-fat diet, which is recommended. If that doesn't help, I'll try medicine or an X-ray or shock wave therapy that's being used to remove the gallstones themselves.
The only problem is that trying to do a low-fat diet simultaneously with the low-carb diet I've lost 125 pounds on is nearly impossible. Kathy and my mom both went shopping for me and found some fish and lower carb mayonnaise and cheese and chicken patties and such, so we'll see if I can swing it. I start tomorrow.
The emergency room doctor was worried enough to admit me for observation overnight and a stress test the next afternoon. A stress test is the one where you have an ultrasound of your heart done, then they do an EKG of you while you're running on a treadmill that continuously speeds up and inclines. Then when you get your blood pressure up to some max value, they tell you to hall ass back over to the hospital cot and lay down so they can do another ultrasound while your heart's still holding up a sign that says, "Kill me."
Long story short (which, according to the Chicago Manual of Style, is *technically* impossible once you've anthropomorphized an organ), my heart's great. The Indian doctor I had gave it two thumbs up, three "Beautiful!"'s, and even threw in a "My friend."
What it turned out to be was gallstones. Apparently I have a bunch. They're not that big a deal apparently, and something like 30% of the population has them, most not even knowing it since they're usually asymptomatic and don't cause any problems. The gallbladder itself isn't a critical organ, so much so that the number one treatment for gallstones is the removal of the gallbladder. But after reading horror stories about people having it removed only to still have pain, but now with a side of chronic diarrhea, I think I'll opt for trying a low-fat diet, which is recommended. If that doesn't help, I'll try medicine or an X-ray or shock wave therapy that's being used to remove the gallstones themselves.
The only problem is that trying to do a low-fat diet simultaneously with the low-carb diet I've lost 125 pounds on is nearly impossible. Kathy and my mom both went shopping for me and found some fish and lower carb mayonnaise and cheese and chicken patties and such, so we'll see if I can swing it. I start tomorrow.