Somewhere along the line cardiology appointments became just another way to mark the passage of time.
The first time I went with Victor to see a cardiologist was scary. The appointment was in an austere medical office building and the waiting room was packed with sickly octogenarians. I had no idea what was going to happen, what the doctor was going to say, or where I fit in to all of this.
As part of actually monitoring his congenital heart defect, Victor now has an annual appointment at the Boston Adult Congenital Heart (BACH) and Pulmonary Hypertension Service at Children’s Hospital Boston. Getting regular care has helped establish a routine that is far less frightening than my first trip to the cardiologist.
Now I split my time in the waiting room playing games on my phone and making faces at toddlers waiting for their appointments. I try to keep track of Victor’s stuff as he goes from test to test. At some point, I go find us lunch or a snack in the hospital lobby secure in the knowledge that the nurses will direct me back to my husband if he’s gone into his next appointment. I ask questions, rat out Victor for occasional cigarettes, and end up responsible for any follow-up material.
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