I’ve posted before about my awesome trip to the ER for what I thought was heart trouble. Since then, I’ve had to wear a heart rate monitor over an entire weekend without showering, and an echocardiogram, where I laid topless on a table in a paper gown while a doctor who, as it turns out, I happen know from work tried very hard not to recognize me.

All the while, I’ve racked up quite a bill. Although some of the expense was covered by my insurance, I still had a $40 copayment each visit. Then I had to pay the remainder of each visit that wasn’t covered by my insurance, which was upwards of $200. But, I figured, like any honest pursuit of truth, that in the end, we’d find out what was wrong with me and the expense would be worth it.

I was looking forward to my final appointment, because all my tests would be in and I’d finally have an answer. Unfortunately, the doctor could only tell me that nothing was anatomically wrong with my heart. All this time, he said, it was likely just stress causing the problem.

I suppose that this should have been viewed as good news, but I can’t help but feel a bit ripped off. I mean, I’m glad that there’s nothing wrong, but reducing stress isn’t exactly my strong suit. If anything, I’m more stressed than ever these days.

I understand why all the tests were necessary. Heart attacks in women manifest themselves very differently than in men. Sometimes, they have no symptoms at all. And, as a woman over thirty, I’m not out of the age range for being at risk. Still, to go through every one of these uncomfortable tests, and come out with no problems feels anti-climactic.