Matter of the Heart...or its Neighborhood.

Got back from a teambuilding workshop in Laguna at around 7pm last Saturday, and went straight home to shower and rest a bit. At 830pm, I was walking towards Ayala Center to meet up with my bestfriend Patrick at the Food Court. We both had dinner plates from Holland's Sausage (him the pork chops and sausage, while I had the sausage combo platter) and sat near the candy cart where we could see everybody passing. We just sat there, eating, laughing like crazy men, and people watching (ok, ok, we were also sneering at other people. haha!).

In the middle of all those laughing and hitting/boxing/slapping each other, I felt a sharp shooting pain in my left chest. I stopped for about ten seconds, breathed deeply, and tried to shrug it off as just another one of those heartburns I've been getting at work. But this one was no "regular" heartburn. This was a major killer. Being the hypochondriac that I am, I got panic-stricken with what Patrick told me: that it could be something serious related to my heart. After all, my dad just had a mild stroke a year ago...

I didn't, however, fret. After dinner, i.e. after we parted ways, I still hung out with my friends and had a bottle of beer. I went home around 130am and slept almost immediately, faint pain on the chest still there...hoping that it would be gone when I woke up the next morning.

Morning came. And although I was feeling so much better than the previous night, the pain was still faintly there on my chest. Marinated in bed 'til almost noon, alternated reading a little Tuesdays With Morrie on my PDA, and exchanging SMS with my date. Got up soonafter, and then went down on my knees to scrub the bathroom tiles as I got ready to shower. Packed my gym clothes in my backpack and then left to have lunch. Met up with Patrick again for lunch at WalterMart (which, incidentally, I always incorrectly refer to as "Walmart"). Some more laughing and sneering later, the pain came back...with a vengeance, so it felt. Half-deciding whether to go to the gym or not, Patrick and I went strolling at Makati Cinema Square to buy pirated DVDs. Yes, I am guilty as charged with the DVD issue.

When we parted ways, I went straight to the gym...that is, after feeling so damned hot under the scorching sun (I figured, it'd be better to sweat in a healthier way). As I was taking my shirt off to change inside the locker room, I felt this REALLY sharp shooting pain up on my chest, and I thought, rather disoriented, "Oh God...I did not dream of dying at 29...half-naked in the men's locker room!" And that was the end of my supposed workout. I went home, popped an Advil for pain, and settled in my cozy chair, with my feet on my exercise ball, and watched DVDs.

Two discs in the series of DVDs later, fuck-you-Ben-I'm-not-going-away pain was back. I decided once and for all to go to the doctor (yeah, like, duh).

After calling my friend RD, a resident doctor at the ER of Makati Medical Center, he advised me to go pay a visit to our other doctor friend, Liza at Ospital ng Makati (aka OsMak). So I hopped in a cab and went straight to OsMak Annex by Bel-Air. After all, I'm a Makati resident, and so I could avail of their services.

Upon entering the premises, this security guard started interviewing me--what was wrong with me, how I was feeling, when did that start, the works. Incidentally, haven't you noticed how these days, security guards are getting more and more into the multi-tasking thing? In restaurants, they act as buzz boys and waiters, too. In banks or travel agencies, they act as liaison officers. I wonder if their being in there for security is now the least of their concerns! Haha. Anyway, I'm digressing... So this security guard starts wheeling in a wheel chair and motioned for me to sit there. I was like, "No, boss, I'm good. I can manage not sitting on that." It took three or four haggling until I was finally enthroned on one. And, yes, I've got pictures to prove it. I mass-texted my friends, "Shit, I'm on a wheel chair in a hospital, it's so embarrassing!" (Maita, incidentally thought that it was hilarious that I was feeling mortified with being on a wheel chair [image-wise, that is] rather than be worried about my health condition)

After what felt like eternity, I was finally attended to by a triage nurse, i.e. after practically every one else has been attended to: the 6-year old boy that took 5 orderlies to assuage his homicidal flailing of arms; the rich teenager coming from a drag race and was caught by the police for suspected drug use; the elderly man with bruises and who was obviously drunk to the bones; the nervous first-time pregnant couple; the 9-month old baby having convulsions; and the lesbian girl that had a fight with her live-in partner.

Blood pressure, good. Blood sugar, normal. Later on, I was injected with a VERY thick fluid called Ketorolac which was supposed to allay all the pain I was feeling. Three hours later, nauseated and hungry and exhausted, I was in a cab back to my condo. Diagnosis? Costochondritis (cos·to·chon·dri·tis [kst-kn-drts] n. A condition that is caused by inflammation of the costochondral joints. This is perceived as chest pain with tenderness to one or both sides of the sternum or breast bone. Chest pains are often worse when taking a deep breath or moving the chest wall.)

So, not a heart condition after all. Ain't I relieved to know that?! Try telling that to my chest. (Now where the hell is my Celebrex 400mg?!!)