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“But my heart stopped.”
“Yes. I suspect myocarditis. I spoke with the attending in Hawaii as well. She suspected
the same thing. Basically at some point in your past you probably had a viral infection
that weakened your heart. Had you been experiencing any chest pain or shortness of
breath when you were in Hawaii?”
“Yes,” I say slowly, remembering the squeezing of my heart that I’d willfully ignored.
“Well, myocarditis seems like a likely candidate.”
I don’t have any other questions, not for him anyway. I stand. “Well, thank you very
much, Dr. Chase.”
He stands, too, agitated and seeming even more nervous than before. “Before you go
there’s one more thing.”
I sit back down. “Because of the circumstance of your upbringing, we’re not sure about
the state of your immune system.”
“What does that mean?”
“We think it’s possible that it’s underdeveloped, like an infant’s.”
“An infant?”
“Your immune system hasn’t been exposed to a lifetime of common viruses and
bacterial infections. It hasn’t had time to get experience with fighting these infections. It
hasn’t had time to get strong.”
“So I’m still sick?”
He leans back in his chair. “I don’t have a good answer for you. We’re in uncharted
territory here. I’ve never heard of a case like this. It may mean that you’ll get sick more
often than people with healthy immune systems. Or it may mean that when you do get
sick, you’ll get very severely sick.”
“How will I know?”
“I don’t think there’s any way to know. I recommend caution.”
We schedule weekly follow-up visits. He tells me that I should take it slow as I start to
see the world—no big crowds, no unfamiliar foods, no exhaustive physical activity.
“The world isn’t going anywhere,” he says as I leave.