Even a regular visit to a cardiologist is an occasion for a sobering appraisal of one’s lifestyle. It is Judgment Day of a sort, as one’s cumulative neglect of dietary prescriptions, exercise mandates, and stress management regimens come to be exposed in the language of the heart waveform pouring out on the chart paper while one labors on the treadmill. My cardiologist seems to be a kind man. I judge this from his touch, as he does not make eye contact. In his past life, he must have been a mole. We’ve only just met, but already he is “my” cardiologist. Once you are talking openly about your heart, the wall to intimacy has already been breached.

When it comes to cardiology we are in the inner sanctum of our medical edifice. This is what medicine does exceedingly well. We have a whole raft of remedies for what ails the heart system, and the whole enterprise is greased to provide these services efficiently and promptly. Cardiologists themselves must incline toward philosophy, in that they have to sit so close to the edge of life with many of their patients. They are at the same time masters of their myriad skills and yet bystanders to much of what transpires with their patients. Their mastery is more apparent to the outside observer; their inner reality may be closer to a sense of helplessness. I can be impressed with what they can see in an ultra-sound; but that same skill only appears mundane to anyone who has been reading ultrasound scans for twenty years. We sense their power; they are aware of their own boundaries. (more…)