The diagnosis? Costochondritis. I'm fine. Really I am. It started out as chest pain on Sunday night. Like a muscle cramp on the center/right side of my chest. So I went to bed at 7:30pm, only because I couldn't get comfortable or find any relief from the pain.
Woke up yesterday and the pain was worse. So I called my primary care physician, but as soon as they hear any words or symptoms involving "chest pain", all panic sets in and I was directed to go immediately to the ER, knowing full well that it probably most likely had NOTHING AT ALL to do with my heart! But I'm a good listener, so I went.
After a series of EKGs, CT scans, chest x-rays, heart ultrasounds, blood tests, and even more blood tests, my heart was cleared, not surprisingly to me. (Ok, maybe I did panic a little bit, because when they start talking blood clots, blockage, etc., it does tend to make one's imagination go a little wild....) Except they couldn't manage my pain. After being dosed with copious amount of assorted drugs (enough to slay an elephant) including morphine, dilautid and valium, I was still in pain. Not fun.
So after about 10 hours in the ER, I was transferred to a room to spend the night so they could work up a "cocktail" to manage my pain. A room with 3 other patients already in it, including two women who both had just had gall bladder surgery and a women I shall refer to as Psycho Sally. Needless to say, Psycho Sally kept the rest of us up all night, causing her beeper to go off oh....about every 10 seconds..., babbling about her dog Charlie, about how she had seen the back streets of Morocco and Hong Kong, and how the hospital was holding her captive. About this time, I was really missing my own
Now I'm home, still sore, but happy to be back. My walking papers indicate I must "take it easy" (as if that is remotely possible with 3 children), and pop plenty of prescribed painkillers. Time for me to drift off to la-la land...