I realize that I never did update about the Mitral Valve Prolapse after I saw the cardiologist. Because I’m seeing that several of the keyword searches that lead to my blog contain “MVP”, I feel I ought to write about how it turned out.
But first, I think I should describe the cardiologist. The walls of every room that I saw (waiting room, exam room, hallways, etc.) at his office were covered with framed awards, news articles, and commendations. (In the waiting room, they were floor-to-ceiling.) I was suitably impressed, initially. Then, when I was taken into the exam room, I noticed a podium, and I thought, Surely not. But yes, he entered the room and stood behind the podium the entire time, while I sat, feeling all small and insignificant in my paper gown and short chair, him all tall and Godlike, reading through my paperwork from his podium. Then he proceeded to talk down to me. Not in a really overtly obvious way, but when I played the whole experience back in my mind after leaving, it was glaring. (And granted, his podium was not as tall as the one I drew in Paint, but the view from the chair made it seem very tall.)
Finally, after reading through the paperwork, asking a few questions and not really listening to the answers, and letting several long minutes of silence go by, he asked, “Who told you that you have Mitral Valve Prolapse?”
I named my nurse practitioner from my primary care physician’s office and told him she’d told me that, after reading his report. (And, she heard it when she listened to my heartbeat. I purposely hadn’t mentioned to her that I was feeling those fluttering sensations and the “sinking” feelings during that visit, and when she listened to my heart, she looked up at me and said, “Did you feel that?” And yes, I had.)
“I never said you had Mitral Valve Prolapse,” he said, and then went on to say that he’d only pointed out some mild leaking of the mitral valve.
Which, according to The Society for Mitral Valve Prolapse Syndrome/Dysautonomia, my nurse practitioner (who has been practicing for many, many years) and my sister, who has MVP and had it explained to her by her doctors, IS what MVP is, by definition.
Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t go there with the “hopes” of having him proclaim that I have some dreaded condition. I was following through on what my nurse practitioner wanted me to do. And I only brought up the whole subject with her because I was having episode after episode of very uncomfortable palpitations and other varied feelings I didn’t like, and because my sister urged me to have it checked out. It seemed like the responsible thing to do.
He went on about how common MVP is (yes, I know that; I did my homework) and spoke to me as if I had just “decided” I had something I’d read about and wanted him to confirm it. I didn’t feel a need to go to him in the first place, once my nurse practitioner read the test results to me and used the word “mild”, because I knew that if it is mild, the best thing I can do is eat right and exercise and avoid obvious triggers of the symptoms, and that nothing else should be required, but she thought I should see him and talk with him about a stress test.
Besides the obvious indications that he just might, maybe, possibly have a bit of a God complex, I also think my truthfulness in filling out the paperwork influenced him. In the section where it asked, “Have you ever had . . . “, I put a check mark next to “depression”. It asked how it was resolved, and I wrote, “Currently in therapy.” Where it asked whether other relatives have had certain conditions, I put a check next to “depression”.
I won’t make that mistake again. (And what business is it of theirs, anyway, really, unless I plan to attempt suicide in their waiting room?)
I’m sure he took one look at that, said to himself, “Crackpot”, and had his mind made up on the spot. (And I’m sure that my being overweight played a part in his assumptions about me.)
When I scheduled the appointment, the woman I spoke with on the phone told me to bring all my prescription bottles. I told her I only take one prescription and some vitamins and supplements, which I would bring a list of. She said to bring all the bottles, even vitamins, because the doctor likes to see them himself. So I did. I put all the bottles into a big Ziploc bag and took them with me. He laughed. (And didn’t bother to even look at more than about two or three bottles – and told me “You don’t need that” about one of them.) He said, “How do you have time to do anything else but take vitamins? How do you have any appetite for dinner? You must always be full, from all the vitamins.” Well, you know, of course it looks like a lot when you put all the bottles into a bag!
(Incidentally, when I showed a list of those same supplements to my rheumatologist, who I went to when I was diagnosed with the Fibromyalgia, he smiled and said he could see I’d done my homework and that he was impressed.)
Once I began to explain why I take certain supplements and mentioned that I’d researched them online, I got that dismissive look that people give when they lump together “internet research” with their own assumptions and have already decided that anyone who researches these things online will believe everything they read without question. And that isn’t me. I do a lot of reading about a specific supplement, from several sources, before I decide to try it. And then I test it, by taking it for a little while and then stopping it, several times, before I determine for sure whether it is making any difference. Everything I take right now has passed the tests over and over.
He said something about how most people with MVP (but wait, I thought I didn’t have that?) don’t have to take medication. I nodded and said that I’m usually anti-prescription medication unless it’s absolutely necessary. He said, “I’m not going to give you medication,” in a tone of voice that would suggest that I’d just said, “Hey, Doc, how ’bout some drugs?”, rather than what I’d just said.
The only thing he said that did prove to be helpful (and probably, to him, is proof that “it’s all in the head”) was that often, when patients come to him with palpatations and anxiety and then find out that nothing is wrong, the symptoms will go away, because when they happen they are often made worse because of the fear they inspire. Palpatations are scary. It’s hard not to be nervous when you’re feeling them, and that, of course, raises your anxiety level, which makes the symptoms worse.
Since I went to see him and then did some more reading on my own (gasp! that dangerous internet research!), my symptoms have reduced. It still happens, but I don’t get as anxious about it because I know it isn’t dangerous and I make a mental note about what I was doing, eating, or drinking, that may have brought it on.
He said, after all his talking-down to me, that we should schedule a stress test, just to rule out anything else that could be wrong. I scheduled it on the way out and then cancelled it later. Screw it. I’m sure one of the other tests I’ve had would have suggested if anything else were wrong, and I don’t intend to have anything further to do with him. Now that I know I’m not about to keel over with a heart attack, I don’t need to pursue this any further.
So, the question is, “Do I have MVP or don’t I?” and the answer is, “Maybe. Possibly. My nurse practitioner and The Society for Mitral Valve Prolapse Syndrome/Dysautonomia say yes. But I’m not worrying about it.”
Craziest thing happened this afternoon.
In the reading I’ve been doing about 
