Getting to the heart of it

I'm about the last person you'd nominate for a heart attack screening. I'm a 26-year-old runner. I read nutrition books on vacation for fun. I haven't had soda since seventh grade.

But there I was at the University of Minnesota's Rasmussen Center, waiting for a two-hour, 12-step cardiovascular disease screening, the first of its kind in the nation. Since I was writing about the test it made sense to go through it, but I wasn't prepared for the revealing results and not-so-promising glimpse into my future.

Even during the first tests -- blood and urine -- my heart started beating harder. The ugly underbelly of my passion for health is anxiety about my own health. This screening, I knew, could catch early signs of cardiovascular disease.

It's designed for people who are relatively healthy but have some concern, like occasional chest pain, high blood pressure or borderline cholesterol. Despite my uber-healthy persona, I was also an ideal candidate. Let's just say the health forms hardly had enough space for my family history. My paternal grandpa died at 45 of a heart attack. My maternal grandma died at 63 of a brain hemorrhage.

But I don't have any symptoms, so surely I'm OK. Right? Not really. An estimated one in four people who die from cardiovascular disease experience no advance symptoms, according to the center.

That's part of the reason cardiologist Dr. Jay Cohn developed the screening in 2000 and is helping clinics in other states do likewise. Identifying abnormalities before symptoms start is a proactive way to find out who's at risk for cardiovascular disease, he said. And cardiovascular doesn't just mean heart -- it refers to the arteries throughout your body, which is why cardiovascular disease includes strokes and kidney failure.

This test is revolutionary because it uses a lot of data from throughout the body to determine what degree of risk someone is dealing with and create an individualized prevention plan accordingly, said Cohn's partner, cardiologist Dr. Daniel Duprez.

The next part of the test, an hourlong conversation with nurse practitioner Lynn Hoke, connected the dots of my health history and formed a larger picture than I'd seen before. When I told her how sugar makes me feel like cell-sized firecrackers are pulsing through my veins, she described how including healthy fat, protein and fiber would help. This was no warp-speed, hi-blah-blah-blah-gown-on-gown-off-bye doctor visit. I could have hugged her.

Then we were onto the fun stuff (at least to a health nerd): They took a picture of the back of my eye. There on the computer screen, pretty pink veins and arteries wove through a fleshy colored picture. The arteries looked healthy based on proportion and placement, said research associate Sara Saul. That's a clue to how they probably look in the rest of my body, too. "All these tests are just pieces of the puzzle," Saul said.

More mind-blowing technology spit out charts, lines, graphs and colors to calculate my health (without any harmful radiation or dyes). I'm highly in tune with my body, but it's still easy to lose touch with what I can't see.

So I was moved during the ultrasound of my heart, my screening experience finale. I felt a sliver of what new moms feel when they see their baby on the screen for the first time -- a combination of awe and wonder mixed with a need to protect that miraculous feat of engineering floating on the screen.

Dr. Natalia Florea flipped a switch for the Doppler, not just the weatherman's tool, and the screen flooded with colors and motion. Florea paused where blue was washing back into red. That confirmed a heart murmur, detected for the first time that morning. Heart murmur? That doesn't sound good. Where was my yoga mat and SPF30 now? No need for concern yet, Florea said. It's fairly common to have a bit of a leaky valve. Well, I prefer not to hear the words "leaky" and "heart" in the same sentence, thank you very much.

Once the results were in, she said, the doctors and nurses involved would sit down and review them together. If needed, they'd recommend more tests, seeing a specialist, drug therapy or lifestyle changes. They'd also send me an in-depth report with the results and specific suggestions for me.

I busted out of the office and practically encouraged the parking ramp attendant to sign up for the screening.

The team believed I inherited the genes for cardiovascular disease based on all-too-early signs: Tests indicated my blood pressure is sometimes too high, and the small arteries in my heart and kidneys are stiffer than they should be in a sprightly twentysomething. On a 20-point risk scale, I was a 7. The team was surprised. Gulp. So was I. People tell me I'm the healthiest person they know. Why doesn't my body treat me as well as I treat it? This is ... not fair.

But that's the DNA I was dealt. I'm decades away from experiencing problems, but this peek into my future was a stern reminder that my health must remain a high priority. No excuses. Like other patients I talked with, the experience will change how I live the rest of my life. I have to keep exercising. I have to keep eating well. I've seen my heart, and I'd like to keep it going.

Sarah Moran is a freelance health writer in Minneapolis.