Angina, Allergies, Asthma and a Former Iranian Policitcal Prisoner
It's been twelve and half years since my first episode of angina. A dead Iranian-born, UK-trained former political prisoner may have the answer other doctors couldn't come up with. Perhaps his research also holds the key to my lifelong problem with allergies and asthma too.
Even though I knew it would pass before I got to the hospital I decided to see if the doctors could tell me anything about my chest pain on Wednesday morning. Over twelve years, several physicians and three cardiologists have assured me that not only can they find nothing wrong with me, but that my cardiovascular system is very fit.
The first time it happened I was cold, shivering, sweaty and even had the pain shooting through my left arm. I had to sit on the floor in London Drugs in Vancouver. My tests all came back normal. A couple of lay people and my least favourite doctor suggested I was having a panic attack. I have no judgments about people who have them; they are real and debilitating but I was pretty sure that wasn't what was happening. Especially as I would even be woken from a deep sleep by angina. What's to panic about during a deep and restful sleep? I wasn't even dreaming never mind having a nightmare. This time I was reading a seed catalogue! How stressful is that????
As always I was dreading learning which doctor was on call--hopefully not the one I just mentioned. There are only a couple of doctors here that I like but my doctor was new. And young. And she listened. Naturally I assumed that she will not be staying in town. I hate being right all the time; she is only here for four months on a rural rotation.
At one point she asked if I had had anything to eat and drink that morning. I always eat a good breakfast but I had been running around doing laundry, had a couple of things on the stove, and had stopped housecleaning to look at the catalog when the angina began at 10:20 a.m. I hadn't finished even one drink in the nearly five hours since I woke up.
She was examining the function of my carotid artery while pushing on my liver; none of the other doctors did that test. Normally it can be viewed when the patient is at a 30 degree angle; nothing. She lowered me to a 20 degree angle; still nothing. At a 10 degree angle she could see what she was looking for but thought the problem was due to dehydration.
I was chronically dehydrated my whole life. When we first lived together my husband couldn't believe how little I drank. A few days ago I remember thinking that I hadn't been very good about drinking lately.
The lab tech had trouble finding a vein to collect the six tubes of blood required. No luck at all in the right arm. Limited success in the left arm--two and a half tubes. He switched from a regular needle to a butterfly and tried in my right hand--always more painful and sure to leave a nasty bruise--but I told him not to worry about hurting me. A butterfly was nothing compared to the IVs I've had over the years. He only managed to get five tubes; I couldn't blame him for giving up because he felt so bad about hurting me.
This was normal for me when giving blood; they always have problems. When he started with the right arm I should have told him everyone has better luck on the left. I asked him if dehydration could be a factor; he said yes. Then I started praying that the doctor wouldn't order an IV to rehydrate me. I drank plenty of water after that.
I had the forethought to bring my knitting and extra skeins of wool--which I needed--so after every row of knitting, I drank some water. That was a lot of water; I was there for ten hours.
Unfortunately, I finished the back of the sweater but I hadn't been clever enough to bring the smaller size needles required to start the ribbing on the sweater front, the last piece of the garment. I had to wait for my husband to bring them from home. If only I could have enjoying lazing about all day, people bringing me food, water and magazines, but I was bored out of my mind. All afternoon, the hospital was--you should pardon the expression--dead quiet, so I had a little nap.
The first blood test revealed a small amount of generic muscle damage. That's why I had to stay so long; she ordered another blood test which specifically indicates cardiac muscle damage. That test was clear. She considered keeping me overnight or at least ordering another test which would have kept me there another hour or two but as I was doing and looking so well, she released me.
Once I got home, I Googled "angina and dehydration" and learned about Fereydoon Batmanghelidj, M.D. who accidentally discovered the link between disease and dehydration while he was at the infamous Evin Prison in Iran. He had no medications to care for a fellow prisoner with a painful ulcer. He prescribed the only thing he had: water. It alleviated the pain and he began treating other patients with water. So began two decades of research on the effects of drinking water. He voluntarily stayed in prison after his release to continue his studies. Hard core.
Apparently there is a link not only to angina, but to a myriad of other health problems that can be "cured" by drinking enough water. It sounds hokey, but when you read about it, it makes sense. http://www.watercure.com/about_drb.html
Then I remembered my girlfriend's pharmacist father who claimed that if everyone drank enough water, he would be out of a job. While filling my prescription for nitroglycerin and buying baby aspirin, I decided water would be a far more preferable treatment.
Oh, I "had" to eat foods from my "no" list and knitting for hours prevented bruising on my hand. :-)
Even though I knew it would pass before I got to the hospital I decided to see if the doctors could tell me anything about my chest pain on Wednesday morning. Over twelve years, several physicians and three cardiologists have assured me that not only can they find nothing wrong with me, but that my cardiovascular system is very fit.
The first time it happened I was cold, shivering, sweaty and even had the pain shooting through my left arm. I had to sit on the floor in London Drugs in Vancouver. My tests all came back normal. A couple of lay people and my least favourite doctor suggested I was having a panic attack. I have no judgments about people who have them; they are real and debilitating but I was pretty sure that wasn't what was happening. Especially as I would even be woken from a deep sleep by angina. What's to panic about during a deep and restful sleep? I wasn't even dreaming never mind having a nightmare. This time I was reading a seed catalogue! How stressful is that????
As always I was dreading learning which doctor was on call--hopefully not the one I just mentioned. There are only a couple of doctors here that I like but my doctor was new. And young. And she listened. Naturally I assumed that she will not be staying in town. I hate being right all the time; she is only here for four months on a rural rotation.
At one point she asked if I had had anything to eat and drink that morning. I always eat a good breakfast but I had been running around doing laundry, had a couple of things on the stove, and had stopped housecleaning to look at the catalog when the angina began at 10:20 a.m. I hadn't finished even one drink in the nearly five hours since I woke up.
She was examining the function of my carotid artery while pushing on my liver; none of the other doctors did that test. Normally it can be viewed when the patient is at a 30 degree angle; nothing. She lowered me to a 20 degree angle; still nothing. At a 10 degree angle she could see what she was looking for but thought the problem was due to dehydration.
I was chronically dehydrated my whole life. When we first lived together my husband couldn't believe how little I drank. A few days ago I remember thinking that I hadn't been very good about drinking lately.
The lab tech had trouble finding a vein to collect the six tubes of blood required. No luck at all in the right arm. Limited success in the left arm--two and a half tubes. He switched from a regular needle to a butterfly and tried in my right hand--always more painful and sure to leave a nasty bruise--but I told him not to worry about hurting me. A butterfly was nothing compared to the IVs I've had over the years. He only managed to get five tubes; I couldn't blame him for giving up because he felt so bad about hurting me.
This was normal for me when giving blood; they always have problems. When he started with the right arm I should have told him everyone has better luck on the left. I asked him if dehydration could be a factor; he said yes. Then I started praying that the doctor wouldn't order an IV to rehydrate me. I drank plenty of water after that.
I had the forethought to bring my knitting and extra skeins of wool--which I needed--so after every row of knitting, I drank some water. That was a lot of water; I was there for ten hours.
Unfortunately, I finished the back of the sweater but I hadn't been clever enough to bring the smaller size needles required to start the ribbing on the sweater front, the last piece of the garment. I had to wait for my husband to bring them from home. If only I could have enjoying lazing about all day, people bringing me food, water and magazines, but I was bored out of my mind. All afternoon, the hospital was--you should pardon the expression--dead quiet, so I had a little nap.
The first blood test revealed a small amount of generic muscle damage. That's why I had to stay so long; she ordered another blood test which specifically indicates cardiac muscle damage. That test was clear. She considered keeping me overnight or at least ordering another test which would have kept me there another hour or two but as I was doing and looking so well, she released me.
Once I got home, I Googled "angina and dehydration" and learned about Fereydoon Batmanghelidj, M.D. who accidentally discovered the link between disease and dehydration while he was at the infamous Evin Prison in Iran. He had no medications to care for a fellow prisoner with a painful ulcer. He prescribed the only thing he had: water. It alleviated the pain and he began treating other patients with water. So began two decades of research on the effects of drinking water. He voluntarily stayed in prison after his release to continue his studies. Hard core.
Apparently there is a link not only to angina, but to a myriad of other health problems that can be "cured" by drinking enough water. It sounds hokey, but when you read about it, it makes sense. http://www.watercure.com/about_drb.html
Then I remembered my girlfriend's pharmacist father who claimed that if everyone drank enough water, he would be out of a job. While filling my prescription for nitroglycerin and buying baby aspirin, I decided water would be a far more preferable treatment.
Oh, I "had" to eat foods from my "no" list and knitting for hours prevented bruising on my hand. :-)