Hair

I just got out of the hospital again yesterday. Once again, I had some chest pain problems that made me doubt my cardiac health, and I went into the ER, who sent me to CCU, who sent me to the Cath Lab on Monday. The good news: Nothing's wrong in there. Evidently, the new meds I am taking caused a buildup of fluid around the heart.

The worst part is the telemetry equipment. This is not a problem for most of the population, except for that percentage with gorilla-like hair growth on their bodies. If I had planned a trip into the hospital, knowing I would get an EKG, I might have taken my moustache-and-ugly-nose-hair trimmer and mowed a few spots. Really! When I was in Cardiac Rehab, they told us to trim the hedges in a few spots, because every time I went in I had to hook up a monitor with those stickers. Every single person that had to hook me up to a monitor in the last couple of days would pull up my shirt, and just the sight of the hair on my chest, the realization of the sheer abundance, would cause them to freeze for a second. You could see the conflict running through their minds. Here's a man with a potential heart problem whom they know they can help by giving this person an EKG, and there is enough hair there to make them think twice because they know that eventually someone will have to rip the stickers off this individual. Then they would do that "Oh, well" head-and-shoulder shrug and look at me and say "Sorry about this." Or they'd look in and do that pained look, where they're all puckered up and squint, and go "Ooooh," and then apologize. When I got into the Cath Lab, that nurse pulled off my gown, and didn't say a word. She just walked over to a table and got one of those trimmers they use and mowed out a couple of spots, and all the way across my chest at about the collar bone. I said "Bless you." I saw a halo around her head. I was also being sedated at the time, so that may account for it. So now I have what looks like crop circles on my chest. If we were at the beach, people would be gathering around in small crowds, going "What does it all mean?" I'm sure that if I go outside without a shirt, and face the right direction, I can get UFO's to attack New York. And I have one bare spot, dead center below the sternum. It was never shaved. I mean it. I had to rip the sensor off on Sunday, because it wasn't making good contact. It made a noise like somebody was tearing duct tape. I held up what looked like a carpet sample, and showed it to the nurse. She said "Damn." I showed the hole to Linda and Doreen when we got home, and I thought they were going to poop in the floor.