It appears I may live.
After my leaving the emergency room so abruptly, I called a cardiologist. Two, actually. At the first one my conversation went like this:
Me: "Hi. I'm not a patient of Dr. Heng, but I went to the Urgent Care Center the other day with chest pains and the doctor told me to go to the emergency room and I went but I didn't wait because it was a zoo and I had to leave and I apparently need a stress test and blood work so I need to see a cardiologist I have a PPO can I see the doctor without a referral or do I need a referral?"
Receptionist: "Are you a patient of Dr. Heng?"
Me: (thinking, "Well, duh, you dope, I just spat out my whole life story, are you not listening??") "Uh, no."
Receptionist: "Can I put you on hold?"
And then I hung up.
I figured, hey, if the receptionist is this stupid, I do not want to meet the doctor.
With the next doc, everything went swimmingly. Receptionist paid attention, made an appt for the next day.
I was of course the youngest person in the waiting room by at least 20 years. Everyone else there was major fucked up. By the time I got in the examining room, I had decided that if I had a heart problem, it was suddenly cured, because I just wasn't ready to be that sick yet.
Dr. Qiu was charming, funny ("Why is a beautiful woman like you not married? Are your standards too high? Yes? You're smart. Men are idiots.") and reassuring. He wants to do a stress test but says he is 99 percent sure I am ok and my problems are from coughing too much.
So Tuesday I hop on the treadmill for some fun. I can hardly wait. But I am determined to be well.