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It is embarrassing to admit that after years of advocating for women’s rights, I recently failed an assertiveness test with life-threatening consequences.
I denounce the denial that comes from arrogance.
At home, sipping soup, I went from totally fine to totally awful in the space of 60 seconds: I was sweating like a marathon runner, battling extreme nausea, and had a strange urge to saw my sore left arm off.
Because I didn't have chest pain, I wasn't leaning over the toilet hoping that throwing up would make me feel better. I was confident that the 40 years of a mostly vegetarian diet, the lack of smoking, and the exercise habits that have kept me at pretty much the same weight my entire adult life would protect me.
Plus, my Fitbit, which I checked daily, regularly confirmed that I was in “very good cardiovascular fitness.”
But the unexplained pain in my arms and excessive sweating worried me, so as I leaned over the bathroom, I asked my husband to consult Dr. Google. He searched “heart attack symptoms female” and found a terrifying list of symptoms that sounded just like my own. I took an aspirin as advised, and my husband drove me to a nearby urgent care center.
Here, my 30 years of positivity as a longtime women's advocate went to waste, because when I got there, I had to wait in line behind seven other people with a sprained ankle and a terrible cough. (Actually, it was too painful to stand, so I waited in my handy wheelchair instead.)
When the doctor finally looked at the blood test results and confirmed the seriousness of my situation, he wasn't too impressed with my hesitation.
As I recall, she practically screamed, “You're having a heart attack!” Her words shattered my belief that “everything's fine” because my heart rate was low, my echocardiogram was normal, and I'd lived a clean lifestyle for decades.
To be fair, the cardiologist who first reviewed my chart also confessed to being “baffled” by my symptoms, and within 24 hours, I felt 95 percent recovered. But the hospital kept me in the cardiac ward for four days, strapped to a bed with a ton of monitors that woke me up every time my heart rate dropped below 50.
To try to make sense of my puzzling symptoms, the doctors sent me by ambulance to another hospital across town for diagnostic tests. “Are you worried about the angiogram?” the nurse accompanying me asked.
The concern in the doctor's voice made me admit I didn't know as much as I should have, but an hour later, as I watched on a computer monitor as a masked, scrubbed doctor flicked my wrist like a Game Boy, pumping a catheter up my arm and into my heart, it all became clear: One wrong move and the catheter could puncture the sensitive systems that kept me alive.
A CT scan the next day confirmed the mystery: My diet and exercise regimen had indeed protected me from heart disease. I wasn't suffering from a heart attack, but a condition I'd never heard of: spontaneous coronary artery dissection (SCAD).
You probably haven't heard of it. One reason is that it's women who most often experience this tear in one of the arteries that surrounds the heart. They're usually young, healthy, and very strong women. It sometimes happens to women who are pregnant or who have just given birth.
Luckily, because arteries have three layers, internal tears aren't too serious and usually heal within a month or so.
But there's no cure for the rare underlying condition that causes arterial tears. Called fibromuscular dysplasia (FMD), the condition stiffens parts of the arteries, making them weaker and more susceptible to injury. FMD is similarly understudied and is more common in women.
Although personally frustrating, this may be useful to me professionally: The nonprofit I run advocates for the importance of including women's experiences and insights in every important conversation that takes place in this country, including medical research.
For now, I'm fine. All of this drama happened in December, the day before my husband and I had planned to spend a long weekend in the mountains (perfect timing: my schedule was clear!).
But now that I'm being encouraged to carry an aspirin with me wherever I go, I feel a little more motivated to live in the moment.
Knowing how many women have absorbed the cultural message of putting others' needs before their own, I want to remind all women, whether they're new moms, committed to daily exercise, or just assertive every now and again: Your Fitbit is not a diagnostic tool, and your friends and family want you to be alive.
Until research into women's health advances and we learn more about women's specific risk factors, don't risk your survival if you're hesitant to skip a turn or request a medical appointment.
Shari Graydon lives in Calgary.
