So I’m standing in the garden area of Home Depot just minding my own business and enjoying the sunshine. Hey- I hadn’t been out in two weeks due to being sick (and staying away from places due to COVID-19). It might not be the most exciting place but it involved flowers and sunshine so it made me happy. People were wearing masks and distancing so I felt OK being there for a short time to pick up a couple of flowers for our porch. I kill all plants and flowers but have recently grown a wild hair and decided to entertain keeping a couple of things alive.

As I’m looking at flowers that are virtually kill proof- boom! I’m hit with a crushing chest pain. My heart feels as though it’s being squeezed of life. If that wasn’t enough, the pain radiated up to my jaw with an intensity I had not ever felt. EVER. It scared the hell out of me. With my limited medical knowledge, the first and only thing that popped into my head was heart attack. I wasn’t profusely sweating but I was dizzy and had an overall feeling of being “unwell”.

I made my way to the car where Pat was waiting and I was walking, it intensified. Do I call 911? Do we drive to the ER? I told him what was happening. We opted to drive. My temperature was taken and since I was clutching my chest, I was asked if I was having chest pain to which I promptly confirmed. My heart was racing and I felt light-headed. With there being no visitors allowed to keep people safe, Pat had to leave, which was pretty emotional. At a time you need someone the most, you’re alone.

I kept my phone close by as I was promptly triaged. My BP was far higher than it had ever been. It’s usually low to normal. After my symptoms were documented, vitals and EKG done, I waited, alone in the ER waiting room. I texted Pat so he could communicate updates to my family. After about four hours (short by ER standards) I was wheeled back to a room and had an IV placed. My blood work, CT (given earlier), and chest x-ray had come back normal. The doctor and I were both perplexed.

I know what I felt but more importantly, she believed me and listened to me. She could see my BP and heart rate were high. Especially just laying in a bed. A brief mention of anxiety was made to which I promptly dismissed. Smelling flowers in the sunshine was the most zenned out I had been in weeks and in the room, I was calm as a cucumber believe it not. She laughed and understood. She then suggested that with our extensive family of heart history, my early stroke, and having diabetes that it would be prudent to keep me overnight for observation. I agreed.

During my stay, I had an extensive heart workup consisting of an echocardiogram, frequent troponin checks, and a chemically induced stress test. My heart rate would shoot up to 141 just walking four feet to the bathroom in my room. I felt out of breath. I didn’t get it. It was a long night. No sleep, I missed having my other half there with me to calm me and keep me laughing (humor is our best weapon in my family). The hours crept by. The chemically induced stress test was bizarre. It was not the worst thing, but certainly not anything I ever want to repeat. The staff was outstanding. All of my nurses were wonderful. They took a few minutes to chat with me and engage with me.

At 6:00 PM the next evening, I was informed that all of my tests came back great. Nothing wrong with my heart, in fact it was very healthy. My cholesterol was great so my dietary changes and daily walks are having positive impacts on my overall health. I should have been really happy about it and apparently even though I was, the look on my face said otherwise. I explained that while that’s great news, it doesn’t explain the frightening symptoms I experienced. No answers, just silence. Their job was to rule out any heart-related issues, which they did. So I’m to follow up with my primary doctor.

The whole experience was really strange. Not having answers leaves me feeling really uneasy. More importantly, being a patient without any support with you was really depressing. I get it. I support why they are doing this. But from a patient’s point of view, it sucks. No other way to put it. Yes, I had my phone and watch to text with but texting or even face time/ messaging is not a human connection. It’s not a hug or encouraging voice. It’s not someone joking about your butt hanging out of your gown as you traipse across your room.

Mental health and support are just as crucial to healing as any physical aspect of it. Perhaps if we had enough tests (don’t get me started on this) a support person could be tested then cleared to come in. I say this from a point of privilege. Not everyone has a phone or watch to communicate with. Some don’t have a clean, safe home to return to or place to stay healthy. I saw patients in tears, in pain, angry, upset and no one to calm them. There wasn’t anyone there to offer to make a call for them, hold them to offer comfort. It was a brutally isolating environment to watch unfold.

A call has been made to my primary doc to try and figure out just what happened but for now, I’m not banking on getting any answers. Oddly enough more of my concern comes from knowing I’ll see thousands in hospital bills from my stay because our healthcare system is so broken. I was honestly more worried about that as I laid in my hospital bed watching my heart rate bounce around. It’s wrong on so many levels.

This weekend I’ll focus on getting some much needed fresh air and try to forget about the event the prompted me to enter an ER during a pandemic.

My flowers are still alive, so there’s that. Hope always remains.