My four regular readers may remember my having heart issues beginning New Year's Day. Now, here's the rest of the story: I visited my cardiologist last week to get the final report. "Beautiful," he said, referring to the sonogram or whatever they call the heart movie he took a few weeks ago. "Beautiful," he said two or three times. "And the hole is no bigger than last time." Hole? HOLE?
He reminded me of something I'd forgotten about, assuming it sank into my consciousness the last time I went to see him. Last time, he said, the heart movie showed a leaking valve. Two of them, in fact. "But the valve pumps beautifully," he said. I can see why he became a cardiologist. To him, heart movies are beautiful.
The valve leakage is not the result of anything I've done or eaten, but is just the result of aging. There's a calcium deposit building up. Too much milk? No, just aging. Will this require surgery? "Oh, maybe in fifteen years, or maybe ten," he said, hedging his bets. Meanwhile, it won't interfere with scuba diving, he quickly added.
I'm putting my children on notice: Someday, you may have me on your hands!
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