[Update 2-5-15] I see that my thread is down to one comment and the karma givers have no fondness for my story. So I know nobody cares, but this is cathartic for me, so here's another update. I finally got my appointment for the chest CT scan. I would have thought this to be quite the emergency, but the doctors and insurance company felt no sense of rush whatsoever. So later this month I'll find out if there is any blockage or calcium sludge building up in my arteries. On the marriage front, I've moved out and filed for separation and I am now staying with my dad. I shut down the surveillance before learning anything because it didn't really matter any more. It sure wasn't worth the hourly rate. After I moved out, though, I was told by one of Marie's friends that they've gone out dancing at clubs on several of the "late night at the office" nights and that Marie was "throwing herself" at some of the guys, but she never left with any of them. She says Marie never actually cheated, according to her definition of cheating (which I'm pretty sure means anything less than a dick going into a pussy is not actually cheating) but I feel like this confirms what I thought. She's not in love with me, and she isn't fully into our life partnership. She wasn't even upset when I said I thought I should move out for a while. She said "I think you need to do what you think will make you happy." FML. I'm not going to spend my last month, or year, or 10 years or 40 years living like that.
[Update 3-5-15] FWIW, I did the scan, and I now have my scan results back. No damage. No calcification in the arteries. My report is on my throwaway Imgur. The middle finger is for heart disease. And for anyone who thought I was full of shit. And to cover up details that might let someone figure out who I am.
http://imgur.com/oBsTWw9 [edited edit because I forgot to blur out the doctor's name the first time]
I bought a FitBit and I am keeping better track of what I eat and what I do, because it's time to starting wooing women again soon. Marie and I are separated and the divorce is pending. We've worked out the major details and so far it looks like it will be amicable. I'm back in the house and she's in an apartment. In less than six months, I'll be single again.
tl;dr: Started Wednesday feeling like Lester Burnham; expected to end the day feeling like Walter White in the "I fucked Ted" episode. Had a probable heart attack. Ended up, the next day, feeling more like Raymond K. Hessel.