Nuclear Stress Test Time

I know I am mistaken for a Greek God all the time (even though I am an Irish/Cherokee American), but even the Greek statues have cracks.


I have been having a little pain in my chest and left arm. Nothing serious, just some discomfort (kinda like a gas pain only higher.) It occurs when I am at my laziness. Like when I spend all day in my chair with the laptop on my lap-tray. So I decided to go see the cardiologist.

He said everything sounds good, I look good (as we all know) and everything seems to be working the way it should. BUT (there is always a ‘but’ in my life) I have only had one stress test since I had my heart attack back in aught four. So we scheduled one for this past Monday.

No food, no prescriptions, no diet coke, no beer, nothing by mouth (other than water - without Scotch) after midnight on Sunday (isn’t that actually Monday morning?). So I go into the office, nerves on end because, one, I haven’t had my morning coffee and, two, I HATE NUCULAR STRESS TEST. I had rater French Kiss Obama than take one. But there are things in life we have to bite the bullet and do. So there I was standing in the doctor’s office in front of the lady behind the desk.

I filled out some release forms (in case I kick-off during the test and they want to say it wasn’t their fault for FORCING me to go beyond any conceivable limits I would ever put myself through while radio isotope type shit is running through my veins) and that I would be responsible for the amount over what the insurance would be paying.

So I ask her how much that would be and she said, “Ummm! You have this insurance and they will pay 80%, so you part will be $640.00.”

“WHAT?” I ask kinda loudly, grabbing my chest and staggering like Redd Foxx on Sanford and Son.

“Oh, you want have to pay it all today…” she nervously tried to say.

“Or not at all.” I came back at her. I tossed the from I had just filled out on her desk and told her to cancel my appointment and walked out.  Hell, SHE almost gave me a heart attack with that tidbit of information, and she wasn't that good looking enought to die for.

So I have decided to fix the little problem the holistic way. I won’t sit in my easy chair all day anymore. I’ll go over to the desk top and work from there. It’s more ergonomic, anyway.

Oh! And I was kidding about kiss Obama.

I had rather have the heart attack.