ColumbiaMagazine.com
Printed from:

Welcome to Columbia Magazine  
 




































 
Carol Perkins: Matters of the Heart

Previous Column: The Tiller

By Carol Perkins

Since his heart attack, Guy has had rounds of mild chest pains. That's his version, but if they require a nitroglycerin tablet, they aren't too mild.

"You can't fool around with this," I declare.

"It'll go away," he answers while I'm finding the nitro pills. "I go to the doctor next week."

I sigh. The doctor is his cardiologist in Louisville. There is not much I can do with a grown man who refuses to make another trip to the ER, has had dozens of tests, and was told to see his cardiologist where he had even more tests within the last two months.

Once in front of the Louisville doctor, Guy played down his "mild" chest pains.


I knew I had to give the doctor the lowdown on his "spells" and the nitro pills he has taken, and the need, in my opinion, to know more. However, his doctor didn't seem overly concerned and gave him another medicine (his daily pill box is overflowing) to curtail the pain.

"This isn't uncommon," he said, "with someone who has a fib, too."

Guy took the new meds and, within a week, had another spell.

I called the doctor, who returned my call two days later, assuring me that every test was clear and this occurrence was normal. I wasn't reassured.

Then he had another episode, and I pushed him toward ER, but he kept repeating his doctor.

I, in turn, repeated the names of those who died unexpectedly while under a doctor's care.

He said, "When did you get your medical degree?"

I replied, "The same time you got your degree in denial." We went back and forth but his feet were planted.

I finally used my last card. "God gave you the sense to take care of yourself, so you need to use it."

He said, "Tell you what, you and God figure it out and let me know. Right now, I think He's saying for you to back off." Ouch!

Most men do not make good patients. You can only move a stubborn man so far, so I keep the nitro handy. My dad died in 1977 when he was sixty-two, two days before he was scheduled for the dye test. Maybe I'm paranoid.


You can contact Carol at carolperkins06@gmail.com.


This story was posted on 2024-05-15 09:29:33
Printable: this page is now automatically formatted for printing.
Have comments or corrections for this story? Use our contact form and let us know.



 


































 
 
Quick Links to Popular Features


Looking for a story or picture?
Try our Photo Archive or our Stories Archive for all the information that's appeared on ColumbiaMagazine.com.

 

Contact us: Columbia Magazine and columbiamagazine.com are published by Linda Waggener and Pen Waggener, PO Box 906, Columbia, KY 42728.
Phone: 270.403.0017


Please use our contact page, or send questions about technical issues with this site to webmaster@columbiamagazine.com. All logos and trademarks used on this site are property of their respective owners. All comments remain the property and responsibility of their posters, all articles and photos remain the property of their creators, and all the rest is copyright 1995-Present by Columbia Magazine. Privacy policy: use of this site requires no sharing of information. Voluntarily shared information may be published and made available to the public on this site and/or stored electronically. Anonymous submissions will be subject to additional verification. Cookies are not required to use our site. However, if you have cookies enabled in your web browser, some of our advertisers may use cookies for interest-based advertising across multiple domains. For more information about third-party advertising, visit the NAI web privacy site.