210/130

December 5, 2011

That was my blood pressure reading last Friday. My highest. Ever. No worries, as I am writing this shows proof I am still alive and kicking. No, I’m not currently (or was) confined in the hospital. But I have to admit I was rushed to the emergency room. Nope, the good doctor in the ER did not recommend I take “maintenance” meds after she released me.  For the nth time, I have white coat syndrome.

White coat syndrome is a phenomenon in which patients exhibit elevated blood pressure in a clinical setting but not in other settings. In most cases, they only show higher blood pressure when at a doctor’s office, but in other places, the blood pressure will drop back to normal. It is believed that this is brought about anxiety/stress. Yes, poor little old me has it just like my beloved aunt on my mother side. I sometimes joke about it as a performance anxiety when it comes to blood pressure reading. Talk about being psychosomatic. hehehehe…..

That Friday started with me waking up with colds and cough. I decided to come in the office after lunch to give my body some time to rest. When I arrived in the office, I developed a splitting headache. I went to our “skeletal” Medical department to get some meds for it.  Following SOP, the nurse took my bp. As expected, due to the pounding inside my head and empty stomach coupled with my ever faithful white coat syndrome, my bp shot up. And that’s where the drama started. The nurse (who was a newbie) told me my diastolic could not even pass for a normal systolic.  Told her I had white coat syndrome & that just last week my doctor gave me a clean bill of health (except for my cholesterol which is still a little bit elevated) but it fell deaf on her ears and told me to lie down & rest. I told her for my bp to normalize I have to be in my “usual” environment (read:  me working in front of my pc) but she didn’t even want me out of her sight. To make the long story short I let her bring me to the hospital.

You’d think being in the hospital would allay my anxiety.  Guess again. Things just got worse. And I’m not talking about my headache, cough and colds.  My headache was gone due to the paracetamol given to me by our company nurse prior. I think I still had colds and cough but I didn’t notice them. All I was thinking was that I’m in the ER again as a patient. Crap. Whether as a patient, companion or visitor, emergency rooms hold no fond memories for me.

By now, it was my heart which was starting to pound. My hands were cold and clammy. And they told me my face was becoming paler by the minute. Believe when I say, I really don’t know what was causing these symptoms. I re-told my story to ER doctor. She and the rest of the doctors kept telling me to calm down. For crying out loud, I was calm, it was my body that was betraying me. Or maybe it was the stress that was overriding things. I was so infuriated with myself that the thought of learning yoga passed through my mind.

The doctors were so concerned that they asked me to some “exercises” — walk using baby steps in a straight line, hold my arms up, down & sideways, touch different parts of my face using a finger, etc. I felt so stupid I wanted to shout at them to please stop making me look like an idiot by performing these “stroke” tests but of course, I kept my mouth shut and just humoured them. When they were assured I still had all my faculties, they started strapping an I.V. on my left hand. What the  —— are you they gonna confine me? My heart was then palpitating. The doctor told me she was going to give me some meds that are injectable hence the I.V. <insert sigh of relief here> Please be still my (fast-paced) beating heart.

They injected me something for antacid. When they asked before if I felt any more discomfort, I said I could taste something bitter on my throat every time I swallowed and that I kept burping. I regarded these symptoms inconsequential but it played a big part on their final diagnosis. After injecting me something for my stomach, they immediately started shooting me up with something else. I could see on the intern’s face that he didn’t want to tell me what was in it when I asked him. He eventually told me it was valium. But before I could ask him why, I started feeling whoozy then was knocked out. I was in dreamland for about an hour.

Upon waking up, they took my blood pressure. 120/80. Normal. It was then I realized that they gave me valium to calm my nerves down. The company nurse who was with me the whole ordeal (note to self:  buy her a gift) told me it was a good thing my bp was back to normal else I would have been strapped to an ECG machine and eventually confined.

Upon discharge, their diagnosis was Gastroesophageal Reflux Disorder (GERD) or in layman’s terms “heartburn”. Don’t be misled by the name, it has nothing to do with the heart. It has something to do with improper food digestion and acid in your stomach. Apparently, the symptoms of a heartburn mimics the symptoms of someone having a stroke. Oh yes, they also prescribed some anti-anxiety meds for me in case my white coat syndrome pops it ugly head again.

And just to prove it was that good for nothing syndrome that cause all this hoopla, after the hospital ordeal, I went back to office and worked some more. Then on that same Friday night, went to dinner with some friends to celebrate my “bodyguard’s” birthday by pigging out on sisig and crispy pata. =oP