I spent an hour this afternoon looking deep inside my own heart. This sounds like a hackneyed metaphor for self-reflection, but it is the honest to God truth. I have been staring at the inside of my heart, flipping around on a little television screen like some exotic sea creature.

It looks fragile and strong at the same time. The thick outer walls undulate while the paper-thin valves flutter back and forth like clapping hands. Except when they don�t. That�s actually why I was there. It was amazing to see what I�ve been feeling on a screen. I found it strangely reassuring, like I had proof that I haven�t been imagining it all. The odd thing has been that this physical problem feels like anxiety and I have to constantly remind myself that I�m not actually anxious. But of course, that is anxiety-inducing in its own way. But I see it on the screen now � every 3-10 beats, the valve catches and stays open a little longer than it is supposed to. The EKG looks odd too � a conductor�s dream of steady beats and then suddenly a huge spike and a slightly too long flat line before a return to the regular pulse.

But still, all appears well for the moment. I�m awaiting the examination of the tests by a couple of doctors, but it appears that the problem is benign (doctors seem to like that word) and is not caused by faulty mechanics. That leaves chemistry. And so later this week I have to visit the professional vampires who will investigate a wealth of other possibilities. The words �potassium,� �magnesium,� and �thyroid� have been mentioned. In the end, though, they have warned me that there is a very good chance that the only answer will be, �Who knows?�

I actually had a reasonably entertaining visit to the cardiologist. I would wager that I was the youngest person in the waiting room by a good thirty years. The doctor doing my exam was a perfect mix of coolly scientific and confessional. She explained in detail what I was looking at.

Thanks to the mechanical hookup, my torso is covered in circular hickeys left by the electrodes. AJ caught sight of it when I was taking off my sweatshirt. �Hey, Mommy, you look like the Olympics!�

[Second entry today. Click back to for a link to the husband from hell.]

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