This is a strange mix of notes I jotted down on Tuesday, January 18, 2011 and Wednesday, January 19, 2011. I’ve done my best to piece them together into a coherent post that fairly shares what it’s like to wear a blood pressure monitor for 24 hours.
Yesterday morning my mother-in-law and I made our way through morning rush hour traffic to the Mayo Clinic Specialty Building for…
January 18, 2011 @ 8:30 am
Mayo Clinic Specialty Building 1st Floor Check In
Hypertension BP monitor
Nephrology/Hypertension BP Monitor
As we waited in to be called back, we reread the packet I was given last week outlining the 24-hour bp monitor procedures. It didn’t take long to realize I wore exactly the opposite of what they requested. I wore a loose-fitting sweatshirt over a fitted, long sleeved shirt that I know works well under a blood pressure monitor… but the packet specifically prescribed a loose-fitting short sleeve shirt.
I considered switching shirts with my mother-in-law (who wore an adorable shirt today that perfectly fit the instructions I was given), but an often-unnecessary habit I have came in handy. I always wear a tank top under my shirt, so I decided that when the time came I’d shove my long sleeve shirt in my purse and throw the sweatshirt back on over the tank. Although I think the gray-on-gray looks a bit weird without a black shirt in between, I can’t complain.
Well, I shouldn’t.
But I might.
Anyway, the nurse (I think) who fitted me for the cuff was friendly and patient with my apparent complete disregard for the packet I was given almost a complete week in advance. She explained the process, took my blood pressure on both my arms, and eventually determined my left arm would be the best location for the cuff.
Pride-Fueled Side Note: Although she did not ask, somewhere toward the beginning of my appointment I told the kind lady my left arm would likely be the best place to put the cuff, as it is the only arm medical folks are ever satisfied with for blood pressure, blood drawing, and pulse-finding. And, although I am no medical professional, I am a professional medical patient.
I’ve learned from dozens (if not not hundreds) of blood pressure readings that my right arm must be some sort of miracle… a pulse-less, blood-less appendage good only for writing, using my iPhone, and shifting my Matrix into drive. But, what do I know. I’m only the ONLY person who has attended everyone of my doctor’s appointments.
She went on to explain how the cuff would limit my daily activities, how the monitor attempts to get a reading every 20 minutes, and how it’d only go off once an hour during the hours I told her I would be sleeping. She fitted the strap of the machine to a comfortable length, ran the cords through my sweatshirt, and helped me put the sweatshirt over the whole contraption.
She told me to keep a detailed journal of my activities using the clock on the monitor, which is 27 minutes ahead of reality and therefore a bit confusing. And, finally, she informed me I don’t actually have an appointment at eight freaking thirty tomorrow morning. I can return the monitor to the information desk on the first floor anytime before 10am tomorrow.
Splendid! I think I’ll be sleeping in.
After getting fitted with the bionic bicept (or so it looked with my sweatshirt pulled taught over it), my mother-in-law and I headed to Paradise Bakery. What was I thinking? It wasn’t good the first time, and the second time did nothing to improve my opinion. But, I did get to experience my first awkward blood pressure reading in public. The sweet lady behind the register asked what I wanted to eat, and I just stood there, not moving a muscle, for almost a minute. Like I said, awkward.
The drive home complicated readings, as the car movement (per the nurses warning) confuses the monitor. And when the monitor gets confused it tries again… and again… and again.
Note to self: Avoid riding in a car for the rest of the day. Sit here, journal your day, and appreciate this cozy recliner.
So, I got to sleep an extra hour this morning, which proved an unexpectedly wonderful thing when I realized just how annoying it is to awake every hour (sometimes more often) to a blood pressure cuff tightening on your sweaty upper arm. I think I’d choose an awkwardly long pause in the middle of a conversation over what feels like an infinitely long pause when all you want to do is sleep.
Every reading caught me off guard, startled me enough to kick in my adrenaline, and complicated the typical roll over, fall back asleep routine.Plus, there’s only so much cord and strap on this thing, so I got a bit too close to this less-than-comfy (and less-than-stylish) contraption last night.
Off the Cuff
The blue, padded creature is back at Mayo. I followed the instructions, removing the cuff at the exact time specified, folding my journal (which I had to add a page to) and tucking it into the case. I took a quick shower, changed my clothes (Yes!), and made the drive to Mayo Clinic alone.
I have to admit, handing that gizmo to the sweet lady at the Information Desk a few minutes before 10am felt a bit like turning in a final exam back in college. I sure hope it went well, but mostly I’m just glad it’s over.
And, on a TMI note… the 24 hours with a bulging bicep kinda reminded me of this totally unrelated post I read way back when.
Last night I got a lengthy voicemail from my scheduler at Mayo. She listed the appointments they’ve scheduled for me over the next week, including a new one for today. Dan and I are taking the morning easy, but pretty soon we will head up to the Specialty Building for…
January 12, 2011 @ 11:30 am
Mayo Clinic Specialty Building 2nd Floor Check In
Radiology General X-ray
Rad Cervical Spine X-ray
I’d say they have this down to a science, but that sounds a bit obvious when it comes to medical things.
After checking in 15 minutes early, I was called back before I had time to take my seat. (What a pleasant deviation from the typical doctor’s office experience.) The kind lady verified my birthday (11th time, I think), showed me to an expansive and impeccably clean room of dressing rooms, explained just how much I had to remove, and let me be. If not for the whole hospital gown thing, I’d have felt like I was in a high-end department store with my personal shopper.
With some maneuvering and clever mirror usage, I was able to fasten my gown so as to prevent an unnecessarily awkward moment while I waited for my turn. I took the time to text Dan to tell him I spoke too soon about being grateful my conditions rarely require me to remove my clothes, locked my dressing room with my stuff inside, put the curly 1980’s keychain around my wrist, and headed to the prescribed secondary waiting room… where I got to sit on a bar-height waiting room chair. Who knew such a thing existed? Not I.
Within give minutes a young-looking lady called me back. She asked what was up and what we’d be shooting today. I explained my understanding of the task at hand, she verified my birthday (12) and full name. Although it took nearly a dozen, “just a smidge to the left”s, she was able to line me up just so into two different positions, take her x-rays, and send me packing in less than five minutes. Perfect, I tell you. Perfect.
We had an almost two hours to burn before my next appointment, so we pulled out our UrbanSpoon app and went to work. Long story short, it led us to a development with a Kona Grill (one of my favorite summer internship business trip stops). Dan had never been, so it was the obvious and necessary choice for lunch.
While looking for parking on the way to Kona, I spotted a MoJo Frozen Yogurt place, so after lunch we strolled down High Street to grab some for the road. I went for a mix of Original Tart and Apple Pie with kiwi and blueberries. I think Daniel got cookies and cream. Anyway, it was delicious. The shop was immaculate, and the frozen yogurt was the best I’ve had.
We headed back to the hospital with me feeling a bit like a small child. Why or how does frozen yogurt always seem to get all over your face? It’s not that you can see it, or that it’s really even there, but it feels like your face is as sticky as sweaty baby fists. No fun, but totally worth it.
If you’re planning to make a trip to the Mayo Clinic in Arizona, I recommend you add CityCenter of CityNorth to your list of time-fillers. It’s located just north of the 101 on the west side of 56th Street… less than two minutes from the Mayo Clinic Hospital and Specialty Building. Shops, restaurants, and almost no people. That part is a bit eerie, but the service was wonderful.
January 12, 2011 @ 1:45 pm
Mayo Clinic Hospital 5th Floor 5 East
Dr. M. K. Lyons
This was fairly short and sweet. After the usual name and birthdate verifications, Dan and I were invited back to an office where we waited just a few minutes for Dr. Lyons. He asked who Dan was, then proceeded to look directly at him while addressing me. I had not realized how strange it is to have a conversation with someone who is not looking at you. At first I thought, maybe he’s just like that. Maybe that’s just how his eyes work, but then I remembered, “This guy is a NEUROsurgeon, I suppose his eyes can’t just be like that.”
About that time he began looking at me, when he spoke to me. He went on to explain that he’d reviewed my MRI from late 2009 and he found no sign of a cyst.
The three folks who diagnosed me were wrong?
He assured me he’d reviewed his opinion with their top folks and they agreed. If there is any cyst in my brain, it’s tiny. So small as to be lost between MRI slices.
Lovely. Best news in a long time.
This is why I am here. Smart people, on a schedule, who make things happen.
This is the second half of this post. If you haven’t read Part 1, I suggest you take the time to do so.
After my enjoyable trip to the phlebotomist, we had almost two hours to burn until my next appointment, so we headed down Mayo Boulevard to The Container Store. Since you can’t exactly carry a closet organizing system on a plane, we mostly perused their small and/or clearance items… which turned out to be a lucky tactic. Dan needs a new wallet, and we were impressed by a Mighty Wallet one of Dan’s brothers gave another of his brothers for Christmas, so when we found a stash it was a logical purchase.
While Dan bought his wallet, which cutely totaled $4.09, I got a call from a Mayo scheduler with some less-than-exciting news. All the blood pressure cuffs used for the 24 hour monitoring Dr. A-Z ordered are booked until next Tuesday. So, I am here until at least next Wednesday, when they’ll remove the cuff. And Dan committed to return to work this Friday, so we still need to buy him a ticket to fly home Thursday night.
But, I am here to figure things out and get answers. There’s really no rush to get home if I’m still feeling awful. And, to be honest, I am always in need of a reminder to practice patience. Aren’t we all? So, although I feel a bit like I won the lottery (got to bring Dan with me) and then had to pay 50%+ taxes (send him back before I’m done), I’m counting my blessings. Namely the fact I get to stay with family while here in AZ.
As we discussed how we wanted to spend the hour+ until we needed to be to “the Clinic” in Scottsdale (read: almost Fountain Hills), I noticed the price tag on the back of the package for Dan’s wallet read something like $14.99. Recognizing the good deal and my envy of his purchase, I ran back into the store to purchase one for my mother, and one of a different style up for myself.
Finally we got on the 101-S to head to Shea Boulevard, and then east to “the Clinic.” I’d been told by a scheduler that the two campuses were about ten minutes apart, but let me set the record straight… ain’t no way. Here‘s the proof.
View Larger Map
Google Maps says the drive is over 14 miles, or 25 minutes, and I believe them. But, if you’re from the valley or have been a Mayo Clinic patient, you know Shea seems to have stoplights every quarter mile. And, my appointment was during lunchtime, which created traffic that exacerbated the apparent length of the trip.
Let’s have a little fun and compare the Google Map with the Mayo-provided map. The distance from the 101 to B (or 1) sure looks lengthier in Google’s version. Do you agree?
Oh well. I suppose it was just another opportunity for me to practice my patience.
Which, in all seriousness, this appointment required very little of. Another patient had to cancel their appointment at the last minute, making room for lucky ol’ me to visit with a headache specialist less than two hours after Dr. A-Z put in the appointment request.
January 11, 2011 @ 12:40 pm
Mayo Clinic Building 3rd floor Check In
Robert L. Rogers PA
When we arrived, Dan dropped me off, made his way to the parking garage, up the elevator to the Concourse level, through the entrance and around to the other elevators, then up to the third floor waiting room, where he caught up with me.
I’d checked in at what looked remarkably like the teller counter of a bank and was stewing over a pair of surveys they’d asked me to complete regarding my headaches. Frankly, it felt a bit like the time my boss gave each member of our team a personality test. I had to keep reminding myself to not over think my answers, but go with my initial response… since that’s typically the most honest. Isn’t it?
After I finished the surveys, I totaled my scores (I kid you not. Just like in the teen magazine I subscribed to in the 90s.), and felt a bit relieved when the total indicated I do, in fact, deal with severe and often debilitating headache pain. Seriously, I’m afraid I actually felt validated by three pieces of paper on a clipboard with one of those annoying flat pens that has a curly cord with an end that sticks to stuff.
It’s pathetic, I know. But I’m Gen Y, so I need that sort of thing. Don’t I?
Continuing the honest phase, I suppose I should admit that by now I wasn’t loving being at “the Clinic.” It felt awkwardly arranged, I struggled to relax, and it seemed deafeninly loud and yet quiet enough for me to hear all the conversations being had at the check-in desks. And I was starving. We were starving.
I read some magazine I didn’t really want to touch because it felt grimey and Dan read This is Your Brain on Music. It’s a book I found for him that he absolutely adores. He’s shared quite a few fascinating tidbits with me and, if you’re into that sort of thing, I recommend you give it a read. You will surely be a better person for having done so.
Eventually, an almost intimidating nurse (I think) called us back, verified my birthday (??), rechecked my vitals (why?), and walked us to an office lit only by lamps. One on the desk and one on the bookshelf. A painted version of the collapsable bookshelf one of my college roommates had. It was pleasant, but it made me want to take a nap.
Meeting Mr. Rogers
Part college professor, part sensitive shrink, Mr. Rogers (I couldn’t resist) used big words and confusing explanations, but he seemed sincere. He too is a headache sufferer, so he understood much of what I described. Early in our conversation he divided my symptoms into three types of headaches.
We set aside all talk of #1, as these are common and I certainly don’t need to pay Mayo Clinic to help me understand how to deal with them. Plus, the medicine I am on to raise my blood pressure does not play nice with anything other than acetaminophen, which does nothing to mitigate my migraines. So, basically, I just have to buck up, get sick, and head to bed. End of story.
Most of our time was spent discussing the second type of headache. Mr. Rogers said something quite like this:
I wanted you to come in here and say activity aggravates these headaches, and that light and sound make the pain worse, but you didn’t… So these aren’t migraine. Well, if they are, they’re completely atypical. Do you know what migraine is? The headache is only 30% of the phenomenon.
Somewhere in here his note taking with a fountain pen and the big words started making it hard to focus on what he had to say. I noticed a picture of a happy-looking dog and decided to ask if it was his. Althought it wasn’t, it got us talking about his dogs. And talking about his dogs got us talking about our dogs. And talking about dogs seemed to warm the conversation.
He still used lengthy medical words, but his explanations were understandable, and he went on to teach me some things that were completely new to my brain. Here are the highlights, in Kate-speak:
Although we haven’t done any other tests, so we can’t really know, Mr. Rogers feels the headaches I get that make almost forget who I am are related to the medicine I take to raise my blood pressure… midodrine. He spent some time researching recorded side effects, even calling coworkers to tap into their memory. Sadly, all coworkers were busy in their own appointments, but the gesture really impressed me.
In the end all we really did was talk. Once the rest of my appointments are complete we will meet again to discuss the findings and plan the next step. Although, to be honest, the whole nerve block injection thing is not sounding like it will eliminate the type of headaches I get 20+ days a month.
The rest of the day has been fairly chill. Dan and I stopped at In-N-Out Burger on the way back to his folks. We’ve spent the evening relaxing around my in-law’s house and closing tabs (including this and this), except for the quick trip we took to Pet Club to buy dog food. I wore my slippers. And I missed my puppies.
Do you have any experience with headache specialists? Any questions you think I should ask next time we meet? Did my Mighty Wallet make you jealous?
Wondering what I got on the personality test? It was the DISC and I was all “I” for Influencer. My subset was “The Communicator.” (Sounds like a dimly lit television show, doesn’t it?) What personality type are you?
Traffic was reasonable this morning. We made it to Mayo with time to spare and decided to use the extra time to catch a good meal. Using UrbanSpoon we found the closest non-fast-food breakfast option, gave it a go, and learned a two-part lesson:
After looking Paradise Bakery up on the web, we lost track of time while reading about Panera’s pay what you can afford concept, and had to hurry down the road to the Mayo Clinic Hospital. We had three minutes to to find a parking spot, speed-walk around the construction and through the voluminous lobby, catch an elevator to the fifth floor, and head east (nice band) to the check in desk for
my second-to-last appointment…
January 11, 2011 @ 9:30 am
Mayo Clinic Hospital 5th Floor 5 East
As I verified my birthday (time 5) they asked if I had any medical records or MRI images to show. And I did, but… on the ride up, I’d asked Dan to read me all the documents they’d attached to the updated itinerary I received upon arrival yesterday. Well, in our rush to get to my appointment we left the papers in the car. Lucky for me, I married an incredible man who was quick to run back to the car and fetch what we forgot.
Five minutes after Dan made it back to the waiting room, they called my name to see Dr. A-Z. As we walked to the his office, the nurse asked me to verify my birthday (time 6) and did the usual temperature, weight, height, pulse, and blood pressure check.
Prior to my appointment I was told Dr. A-Z was a gem, and I was not disappointed.
For starters, he kept calling me “doll.” How sweet is that? Then, he managed to get me talking through my health history… not just since the symptoms for which I came to Mayo began, but from childhood through today. His questions seemed to remind me of various possibly-related health issues I’ve dealt with throughout my life and brought to light some stones we’ve left unturned, or however that phrase goes. After hearing what I had to say, and explaining how some of my health issues may be related, Dr. A-Z suggested we go after some of those unturned stones.
And, he made it happen. He explained why he felt I should have additional blood work done, neck x-rays taken, a 24-hour blood pressure observation, another MRI, a venogram of my brain, and a follow-up with am after all these were complete. He asked when I was planning to leave Arizona, then walked me to the scheduling desk where I met a helpful lady named Tamara. She verified my contact information (You thought I was going to say birthday, didn’t you?) and sent me packing to…
January 11, 2011 @ 10:55 am
Mayo Clinic Specialty Building 1st Floor Check In
There’s not much to say about the first of the appointments ordered by Dr. A-Z, except that I had the best phlebotomist ever and the whole thing took less than five minutes.
The second half of the day was astoundingly educational and warrants its own post. Look for something in the next day or so. Thank you again for your kind thoughts. I pray my relating my Mayo Clinic experience may, in some way, help you.