Dr. Cranky Pants

Cardiologists are sadistic; no other conclusion can be drawn.

To prep me for my stress test it was not sufficient to clean my skin, as they do when you get a shot or blood drawn. Oh no, they sandpapered 9 spots on my chest. I asked why and the technician said so that the diodes would stay attached. Oh of course, that's exactly what I thought - not.

I'm sitting on the bed in the room, with the machine checking my blood pressure every couple of minutes, when I hear in the next room "Wakey Wakey!". This unfortunate victim, it turns out, was undergoing a tilt table test. The technician explained that for patients who are having dizzy spells they put you on a stand that is at a 75 degree angle. The objective? To make you pass out. It takes but minutes she announces with glee. At this point I feel ready to pass out.

Enter tall, lanky, Bostonian accented Dr. Fidelman. He asks why I'm having the test done but he doesn't wait for the answer. Then listens to me breathe for a minute to make sure the test won't kill me. He swirls out; the techs lead me to the treadmill. They are about to take my blood pressure one more time when I hear Dr. Cranky Pants sighing loudly, repeatedly, and then he starts to yell for the nurse. He can't find the results, he's following the steps, and "frankly ______ is wrong but that's not your fault, but this whole program is ridiculous" he sulks.

That tidbit amuses me because TMC was using our competitors product for this particular module.

I did the test; couldn't breath, ready to pass out, chest hurts and the test results? Normal says Dr. Cranky Pants. I suppose the torture chamber that was the cardiology unit can cure anyone of heart problems.

The good news? Me and my new inhaler are cleared to exercise again.