Every time I go to a doctor, I am asked to fill out a form that, at some point, will ask me about family medical history. I list my father’s death at age 23, recently adding that it was most likely from contaminated water at Camp Lejeune. I mention my mother’s alcoholism and heart attack death at age 56, and my grandmother’s deadly aortic aneurism. In my younger years these reports were of interest to me, but not necessarily pertaining to me. I rarely drink and never smoked. As I got older, there were concerns about blood pressure, cholesterol, and most recently type II diabetes. Currently, all those issues are under control with meds, diet and exercise. I’ve been patting myself on the back for controlling my blood sugar so well that I don’t need any medication for that. Recently, after reading about a female runner who didn’t start running races until she was 70, I decided to start training myself. I was excited about completing my first race. Who knew I was walking around with a heart that would soon be described as having a 90% chance of a heart attack.
It started with my younger sister. Eager to take an early retirement, she decided to get a complete physical and check-up while she was still employed. Within a short period of time, she learned that she had an elevated calcium score, was catharized, and had two stents put in. One of her arteries was 95% blocked. She encouraged me to get checked. Suddenly, our mother’s deadly heart attack at 56 could have been caused by more than her alcoholism. Family history is important.
I started the tests. At first, things appeared good, excellent blood work, especially regarding triglycerides and cholesterol. The cardiologist told me that once the tests were finished, I’d probably have to see him once a year. Until yesterday.
The day before I had a calcium score test. The technician told me that it would take about a week to get the results. I went on my merry way. I even missed the early morning call from the cardiologist. He left a message about some elevation, and I should start taking baby aspirin and call the office. While I was driving to work, I called his office (hands free, of course! Safety first). What they told me almost caused me to drive off the road.
“Elevation” was a mild word for my results. My score was way higher than my sister’s, putting me into the 90% chance of a heart attack category. Suddenly, everyone at the cardiologist’s office knew my name. They fast-tracked me for a Nuclear Myocardial Perfusion Scan, transferring me to the scheduling department with instructions to remind them this was an urgent situation. Well, I didn’t have to do that. As soon as I said my name, she replied, “Oh yes, I was just reviewing your paperwork.”
And despite the urgency, I will still have to wait a week to get the test done. As a person with anxiety issues anyway, it sounded like an eternity. I spent the rest of the day alternately crying and sleeping. Dale, the love of my life I have written about before, was supportive. He has his own calcium score burden, thankfully much lower than mine. It was a comfort to feel like we were now on the same team. We were horrified to discover how much salt contributes to these issues (we knew about cholesterol, and rarely added salt to our food – but it is in practically everything!)
As my anxiety quieted, I realized that my sister’s issue and my issue have a common denominator – family history. We have to take it seriously.
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