I was terrified driving to the cardiologist. My friend had checked out his credentials on line the night before. She even did a tarot card reading. This man, who I was about to meet, was going to have a long happy relationship with me and/or become my husband. He was my second opinion. The first Electrophysiology expert was dying to get into my heart to do an ablation. He mentioned that they could even put in a pacemaker if they had to burn out too much of my heart (by mistake?). The goal was to fix an arrhythmia to keep my heart from beating too quickly (up to a rate of 280 beats per minute) causing me intermittent unpredictable temporary loss of vision and sometimes loss of consciousness.
My new doctor was adorable. He did not mind me rummaging through his shavers when he first walked in. I told him that he kept me waiting so long I figured that I would shave my legs. I also showed him a picture that my friend just sent me on my I phone. He was gracious and agreed that she was very beautiful ( well she was on a motorcycle and had a great push up bra) However, I could tell he was much more interested in me and my heart. We made each other laugh. I explained that I could never have anyone near my groin (point of insertion for wires) that was much younger than I was. He quickly told me that he was 47. I am 48. He also explained that he was not going to jump to burn my heart. He was no “cowboy” He was going to do it the way they taught him at Harvard (that was his cute way of letting me know that he was qualified to work with me). It was like a first date. When he listened to my heart, I noticed the sweet little stray hairs on the top of his bald head. He had more tests to do. He was going to get to know me slowly and safely.
When I was leaving the office the receptionist and I mocked him for calling me “young lady”. He took it in stride. He mentioned that I was one of the youngest women to come into his office. Behind me was a feisty woman her mid 70s. She told me that the doctors had given her a heart transplant. I asked her if she received memories of the person who had owned the heart. She answered “yes”. When the heart was placed in her body, she started looking at men…all men. Her husband laughed. She said when she discussed it with the heart donor’s mother the mother said “that is my girl.”
You see I still believe that the heart is mysterious and is much more than any other organ. I can dislike dentists, gynecologists, and GPs and still use them if I know they are good doctors. However, the man (and many of them do seem to be men) that I let touch my heart will have to be special.