Mainly because of what happened to Paul, last week was marked by medical exams. I was curious and apprehensive about my general health. I’ve done all the exams suggested and now I wait for a few supposed to come from South Africa.
The echography went fine. The doctor had another particularity to add to my already slightly centered small heart: a prolapse. My left atrium falls into my left ventricle. Nothing to worry, it’s just heart design.
The electrocardiogram during an effort test was quite interesting. Doctor put me talking about food and restaurants, just to check my conversation skills while climbing a mountain.
In the end he said I was very well. He confessed he has reservations about the cholesterol results. I confessed I am afraid of the sugar levels. I am almost sure one of us is deadly wrong. Next week we shall know which one.
I said I felt guilty for being so well, while my husband, with whom I shared the same table, had such a fragile heart. He abused of frequency and quantities, mainly fruit and veggies. I abuse of deadly temptations: chocolate, wine, cheese and ham. He said: “It’s not your fault. It’s genetics.” In fact, Paul’s brother, years younger and a lot less heavier, without help his heart works only 14%.
I said goodbye while he stressed my good health using the Portuguese word “óptima”. I remarked: “Doctors should never use such words to describe the state of their patients. They leave you and munch on chocolate, ham, cheese and wine.”
He said what doctors say these days: “A glass or two of red wine is good for you!”
As he insisted in describing my health as “óptima”, I went for the wine, cheese and ham. This weekend I shall celebrate.