It would seem that I’ve reached ‘that age’. She didn’t say ‘old’, not exactly, but certainly she indicated that I was no longer ‘young’ enough to assume that all will be well! Yesterday I had my first ECG; not because I have a dodgy ticker, or a family history of heart disease; not even because I’ve reported chest pain, or in anyway indicated that my heart might be suspect, but simply because I’ve hit a ‘magic’ number of years (or nearly). Now, it must not be assumed that my heart can take the shock of an anaesthetic. Last year all was well: I had two anaesthetics, and no questions asked! This year, however, is a different story – my strong and beating heart must be checked for tremors, palpitations, irregularities and anomalies. The wires and graphs showed ups and downs in regular rhythm; no sinister beats or skips were recorded on the chart. My bp of 120/70 can return to its more normal – for me – 100/60, and I can breathe easy knowing my cardiac muscle is pumping away like a good ‘un.
It’s not that I have any objection to being asked to have an ECG, not at all, it’s comforting knowing they’re making sure I’m OK. What is disconcerting is the concept of this invisible boundary which I’m about to cross. Last year my heart was ‘young’ and this year it is, well, if not exactly ‘old’, certainly ‘of that age’ where it must be suspect evermore!
Thankfully I still feel young at heart, however the medical profession choose to classify me!