My Exercise Intolerance Test Was Terrible

 I just got back from my exercise intolerance test, and it was terrible. Terrible, exhausting, and infuriating.

There were three of them in the room: the cardiologist, the nurse practitioner, and the person doing my echo. The person doing my echo told me I met some of the criteria—but not all. And I thought, does that still mean I need all the criteria? My body was collapsing, and they were debating a checklist.

Meanwhile, my heart was jumping to almost 140. I was shaking, nauseated, dizzy, lightheaded, and the room was spinning. I was struggling just to stay upright. And yet, they told me this was normal for someone exercising. Normal? My body was screaming at full force, and apparently that counts as “fine.”

The cardiologist kept repeating that everything was good. The nurse practitioner nodded along. Meanwhile, the person doing my echo had to hold me because I felt like I was about to faint. I told them I couldn’t continue anymore—I was lightheaded, dizzy, done. And the cardiologist, as if I hadn’t already explained it multiple times, asked, “Why?”

Why? I’m telling you what is happening in my body. I am not pretending. I am not dramatic. I am not exaggerating. My heart is racing. My body is shaking. My vision is spinning. And yet, I’m being questioned like it’s my fault for existing in a body that doesn’t behave normally.

When it was finally over, the cardiologist said everything was normal and maybe I have an inner ear problem. The nurse practitioner added that I might have vertigo and that I was deconditioned.

When they told me I was deconditioned, all I could say was, I wish I could exercise. I would if I could. I am not lazy. I am not weak. I am not lying. My body simply doesn’t allow it. And yet I am given these vague labels instead of answers, while my symptoms continue to scream at me.

When I got home, I did nothing but cry. Cry for the body I have. Cry for the answers I still don’t have. Cry for the exhaustion, the frustration, and the invalidation I feel every single day.

I am angry. I am angry that my body can’t do the things I need it to do. Angry that I am told I am deconditioned instead of being listened to. Angry that I am told my heart racing and my near-fainting is “normal.” Angry that there is no explanation for why my body feels this way. I want answers. I need answers. I want to know what is wrong with me.

This is not a performance. This is not me being dramatic. This is me existing in a body that doesn’t follow the rules, and trying to get someone…anyone…to take it seriously.

If you’ve ever been told your symptoms are “normal” or “all in your head,” know this: you are not imagining it. You are not weak. You are not alone.

My body’s limits are real. My suffering is real. My anger is real. And I will not stop demanding answers until I know what is happening.

— Symone

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