“Neither of those things. Here; have a glass of water.” Dr. Diaz handed him a paper cup, and Sam took it and gulped down the cold water, feeling it run through his system. Nervous sweat prickled at his hairline and dampened his shirt.
“Now I’ll explain. Angina means you’ve been experiencing on and off chest pains, and it occurs because the arteries to your heart are narrowing, whether through age or high cholesterol which, I’m afraid, is another problem you have.”
Even as his mind processed what Dr. Diaz said, Sam thought back to all those times his chest hurt him over the past year and how he’d put it down simply to mild heartburn or overexertion since he was over forty now. He gripped the arm of the chair, digging his nails into the fabric.
“I’m getting married next month,” he whispered more to himself than to the doctor. “This is going to kill Zach.” All along he knew he shouldn’t have gotten involved with someone ten years younger. Now he was saddling Zach with not only his age, but his illness.
“It’s not a death sentence. You will need to go on medication, yes, but if you lose some weight, try and control your stress levels, and watch your diet, you should be fine.”
He perked up hearing that. “So it’s not so serious?”
“I didn’t say that.” Dr. Diaz’s voice sharpened. “Angina is not to be taken lightly, and if you don’t follow my instructions, you’ll have more severe problems down the line.” He handed Sam a sheaf of papers, which Sam glanced through. Words like low-fat and high-fiber caught his eye, and his heart sank, knowing his days of sneaking a few pastries before coming home were coming to an end. All the good things in life were bad for you. How fucking depressing.
A sudden thought seized him with dread, and though it was a little embarrassing to ask the doctor, it needed to be done.
“What about, um, sex?”
For the first time since he walked in the room, Dr. Diaz cracked a smile. “What about it?”
Great. Figures now when it came to talking about his sex life, the doctor decided to get a sense of humor.
He scowled. “Glad to see someone finds this funny. Is there going to be any problem? This medicine isn’t going to affect…anything, is it?”
“There is a possibility it can cause erectile dysfunction, but it’s a minor side-effect. I’m not anticipating any issues; you haven’t experienced pain during intercourse before, have you, or problems with erections?”
Not being able to get it up wasn’t what he considered minor. Face flaming, Sam gave a brief shake of his head. “No complaints at all.”
“Good. You can continue to engage in an active sex life; there are no restrictions because you have angina. Unless of course you experience chest pain during sex, at which point you need to let my office know.”
Sam didn’t think Diaz meant the times Zach made his heart race; that occurred every time they made love. Poor Zach had no idea what he’d been burdened with. Now more than ever, Sam knew he made the right decision not to tell Zach about this appointment. A natural-born worrier, Zach would probably stay up all night, watching Sam to make sure he didn’t stop breathing in his sleep.
“So if I eat right and exercise, it will go away?” That didn’t seem too hard. Zach constantly nagged at him to go on a diet; maybe he could say for their wedding he intended to turn a new leaf and would watch what he ate.
“I’m not saying that, no. This is a serious health problem that won’t disappear in a month by cutting out the extra piece of cake after dinner or one less candy bar. It’s going to take time and effort for you to make a lifestyle change. I’m sure your partner will support you.”
Not if he could help it, thought Sam grimly. No way was he telling Zach, at least not yet. Zach had the metabolism of a teenager; he could eat anything without the pounds piling up on his wiry frame. Sam looked at a cookie and he needed to play an extra round of ball to keep from gaining weight. Life was so unfair. He took the two prescriptions from the doctor and was grateful his retirement included health insurance. He pocketed the papers and picked up his jacket from the back of the chair. Dr. Diaz opened the door and walked him out to the front.
“Make sure you fill them as soon as possible. One is to be taken every day and the other is for when you are having more intense pain. I expect when I see you next month right before your wedding, you’ll have dropped a few pounds.” He clapped Sam on the back. “You’ll want to get in shape for the big day.”
Sam hoped so as well, paid his co-pay, and left the office. Before he pushed the elevator button, he leaned against the wall outside the door to the office and began to shake. He hadn’t been confronted with his own mortality since he’d been shot at and left the force, and it was a fucking scary thing.
The tips of his trembling fingers traced a path over his pectorals until they came to rest on his breastbone, where he pressed his hand flat up against his chest. The steady, thumping beat of his heart comforted; the rhythm was no different than it had ever been. And the pain wasn’t that bad; it never hurt for longer than a few seconds, and Sam wondered if perhaps the doctor was unnecessarily scaring him. He checked his watch, and realizing if he didn’t hurry, he’d be late for his new job, he punched the elevator button, tapping his finger impatiently. There was no time to stop by the drugstore and fill the prescription now; it would have to wait until he was on his way home.
Before he headed down into the bowels of the subway, he checked his texts and saw there was one from Zach. A chilly wind sent him tugging his scarf around his neck a bit tighter, and he wished he had stopped for a hot coffee.
Spoke to the rabbi and he’s great. See you at 1 at the caterer’s.
He texted back:
I’ll be there. Have to make sure I get my mini hot dogs.
Zach immediately texted back a smiley face and a heart. Sam hurried down the steps and swiped his Metrocard at the turnstile. Waiting for the train, Sam thought back on what had transpired at the doctor’s office. Was he making a mistake marrying Zach? He loved him more than anything, but maybe he was being selfish. Zach was young, brilliant, and had hardly dated before they met; the last thing he needed was an old, sick man as a husband. The train pulled into the station, and Sam got on, hugging a pole as the train lurched to a start.
It would certainly be better for Zach to meet someone closer to his age, but selfishly, Sam dismissed his thoughts; he would never give Zach up—he couldn’t. There was a special quality to Zach, a sweet innocence that made you want to wrap your arms around him and protect him from all the ugliness and hurt, yet underneath that seemingly soft exterior lurked the heart of a lion: fierce, proud, and strong.
Swaying to the motion of the train, Sam stared at the strangers jammed into the too-small seats, some with eyes closed, trying to catch a few more minutes of sleep before their workday began, most with that perfected New York stare, as he called it; looking but not seeing what was in front of their faces. It was like being in a train full of hypnotized people.
His chest ached, and that familiar tightening began. Now Sam knew what it was. Not heartburn or gas, like he’d been fooling himself up until now. It was his faulty heart. He’d finally found a use for it in loving Zach, and the damn thing thought it was going to crap out on him.
