areyoulistening

I never played football in high school or for a league as a kid because I was born with a heart murmur and I could have been killed if I was hit hard enough. I also didn’t play because it looked like it hurt lot and the people that played seemed to be a little mean spirited about playing.

A heart murmur is basically a strange sounding word that means the heart has a leaky valve. The leaky valve produces an abnormal heart beat and the side effects may include being awesome (Nah, I’m just playing).  The type of heart murmur I have, allows blood to flow back into one of the four chambers of the heart. You see the human heart has four chambers (I think, don’t fucking look it up on wikimedicine or some shit) and blood is moved from one chamber to the next. After the blood has left one of the chambers, there is a like a little door that closes behind it and that will ensure that the blood will not flow back into that chamber. However, one of my little doors does not fully close and blood leaks back into the chamber producing a clicking sound in my heartbeat. It is caled a “Mitral Valve Prolapse” or “floppy” valve syndrome. I guess it’s better than having “floppy” you know what syndrome, but I guess that will come later in life.

Until I was 18 or so, I’d have to so see a Cardiologist every six months or so. It sucked when I was between the ages of 12 and 16 because I was chubby and hated taking of my shirt in front of people, nevermind an Indian doctor that had a strange penchant for sucking on hard candy when talking to me. They basically used the same machine to look at the heart that they use when they look inside a woman’s stomach after the baby fairy has visited her in her sleep and whispered a love poem into her ear. Again, I’m pretty sure it is the same machine, don’t get all medical on me because you like Grey’s Anatomy, okay? So I would take off my shirt and introduce the Molson Twins (One of the funniest terms I have ever heard for bitch tits…ever) to Doctor Apu and he would put this clear jelly (see: ky jelly) on this little instrument that was shaped like if a penis had sex with a channel changer.  When I got older, I would make a joke about how, “I was only here for my heart, Doc. Don’t get any ideas here, HA. You know…you know what I mean.”  So anyway, he would lube up the intsrutment, rub it on the titty where my heart was and we would watch my heart on this little monitor (I just realized that that means I’ve had mad ky jelly on my chest). He would always say something like:

“Ok, see here Sean, where this chamber is doing it’s job and closing after tha blood has moved onto the next chamber? Well, here in this chamber, this is where you’re heart is not working correctly. See all this blood that is pouring back into the chamber? That is the problem.”

I would lay there being awkward and chubby, trying like a bastard not to move so the paper under me wouldn’t move. I always felt like when I was moving on that paper it made me “sound” fatter. Weird, huh? I still hate the sound of that paper when someone is sitting on it and moving around.

By the time I was 18, the Good Hindu Doctor told me the murmur had become weaker as I got older and that I didn’t have to come as often. I do have to take antibiotics before I have any surgery because if what was being operated on became infected the infection could travel to my heart and cause me to become a dead person. So as far as I know, the leaky valve has become less leaky and I should be okay. I don’t think I’ll join any men’s leagues for organized tackle football, but I do like the idea that I could play if I was stupid enough to think something like that would be a good idea.

Pete: The title actually has something to do with the content, but don’t get used to it, babay! I never follow any rules! I’ve been breaking rules my whole life! My life motto has always been: Rule #1 There are no rules!

Trackback URI | Comments RSS