Whelp, it's done. I finally got the stress test done. It was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced. Three people were in the room, one of them a doctor. He and the two gals watched me climb up on the treadmill and monitored me and the two machines positioned on either side of the treadmill.
I've never been on a treadmill. It always seemed kinda silly, getting on a machine that controls how fast you move your feet — too much like that popular sport where people hit a tiny ball with a stick and then chase after it.
But, hey, I'll play this game….especially since I was assured that I don't have to be able to climb to the top of Sears Tower or win a marathon.
Anyway, it started up and my feet moved to the rhythm the machine dictated. Then it changed the tempo and my feet moved faster. And, yet again it moved faster and my feet did, too. All the time, those machines tracked all the fun. I lasted just about eight minutes. I was told that was pretty good seeing as how I'm an old lady.
While I was waiting for the results, one of the gals told me. "Exercise is a good thing. But don't waste your money on a treadmill. I bought one. It was very expensive. We used it about a week. No one in the family used it after that."
OK, I'll take that advice. I'd much rather ride a bike anyway…and it's a whole lot cheaper.
So, now I know. The doctor confirmed it. Everything was consistent and there isn't anything to worry about. I'm another day older and closer to death.