Things I Have Learned Since Being Sick

Tonight marks a solid month of this being sick crap

I HEART PAMPHLETS!

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And let me be very clear; I know I am luckier than almost anyone who finds themselves in a situation like this.  My procedure, which has been scheduled for this coming Wednesday, is low-risk and usually highly successful.  I am lucky and I know it.  However, I have been mostly confined to my house for the last few weeks and it has been a revealing experience I will probably reflect on for the rest of my life.

There has been something about this whole experience that has made me want to capture it; like a photograph of the most beautiful butterfly.  Yet, that photograph remains elusive.  As my horrendously overwrought (and overused) metaphor indicates, I feel as though I lack the skills.  Or the words.  Or at least some central organizing principle around which to organize these random thoughts that are knocking around my brain as fast the beats in my chest.

I have never experienced anything like this before in my entire life.  I have never been told by my doctor that I couldn’t drive, or that I should mostly lay low and work on remaining as calm as possible, so as not to exacerbate my bullet train of a heart.  Never.  I have never even broken a bone.  Yes, I was put on partial bed-rest in the last few weeks of my pregnancy, but I was roughly the size of a walrus and being told not to move was more an act of mercy than anything else.  Plus, I was getting a baby at the end, so win-win.

This is different because I have entire days where I feel, more or less, normal.  Then there are nights like tonight and I am awake for reasons that are inexplicable to me and my heart is thumping and, frankly, I’m bored.  I could be using this as a time to be productive and get some school work done, but I don’t exactly have amazing focus right now.  I will probably end up spending too much time on my adult coloring app on my i-pad.  Maybe I’ll read.  

There have been insights, though, and I want to write them down and that makes me want to share them because, hey, I didn’t become known as “Cher” at work because I don’t share enough on social media, duh.  

Let me say again that I do not want, in any way, to compare myself to someone with a serious, life-altering, life-threatening condition.  I know parents who have walked that road with their children, I know people who have lived through it with their loved ones, and I know people who are walking a much scarier path on this road than I am.  My situation is, god-willing, fleeting.  If all goes well during my procedure on Wednesday, I will miraculously be cured. I find this rather astounding frankly, as there are so few things in medicine, and in life, that are that clear cut.  I have luck on my side that I realize so many do not.

That's the inside of Tuff Girl Fitness; I miss those kettlebells so, so much.

That said, I feel I have gotten a peek behind a curtain most of us don’t ever want to see behind.  Illness like this is frustrating, particularly in the beginning when no one seems to believe that your symptoms are real.  It is mundane and boring.  It isolates you.  It is painful.  It is exhausting.  It takes away the activities you loved.  It reduces you.  The one I was least expecting, though, was how lonely it would feel.  The middle of the night, when everyone else in the world seems to be asleep, is when I feel most crazy and alone.  I get restless.  What do I do with myself?  I don’t want to make too much noise for fear of waking my family up, yet I sit here, yearning for someone to talk to, laugh with.  

I love how people keep saying, let me know if you need anything.  Some people have really come through for me, covering aspects of my job, without whom this time in my life would have been infinitely more stressful. My immediate family has been amazing.  I am deeply grateful to those people.  Aside from that, though, what I really wish is that people would just show up.  Call me.  Text me randomly.  Take thirty seconds and write a comment on this blog post, let’s say.  Just something to let me know you haven’t forgotten I exist.  Come and visit me and we can consider it your good deed for the month if that sort of thing is your bag.  If you’re reading this, it is likely I will be well on my way to a full recovery.  But just keep in mind that if someone you care about ends up in a similar situation, reach out to them.  For most of us, I don’t think you’ll be intruding, you’ll be a welcome guest.

And because I have no better way to wrap this random collection of thoughts up...if you have not watched “Empire” yet...get on that.  Cookie is incredible and I want all of her clothes.  I’m very much looking forward to having some place to get dressed up for again.

That coat..I mean...seriously.

The Latest News About My Health

I originally started writing a blog post about my current health situation that was super reflective; all about autumn and the seasons and how things change us.  I even worked in a funny bit about pumpkin spice lattes because, fall.

It's FALL...so we pick apples!

Well, a couple weeks had passed since I'd last worked on it and several things have changed and while I still have lots of pressing opinions/thoughts/feelings on chronic illness, I feel the need to get to the point and share with those of you who are interested what exactly is going on with me.

On the evening of September 3rd, I had what was diagnosed as an acute episode of supra ventricular tachycardia; a rather common form of heart arrhythmia that usually resolves itself pretty quickly by way of a prescription for beta blockers.  That night itself was intensely scary, but the whole situation

Drama queen.

just became increasingly more problematic when it didn't get better.  Every day, I would wake up and think, great, today is the day I will wake up and make it through a whole day without my heart feeling as though it about to pound right out of my chest!  And that just never happened.  I could barely teach two classes during the regular school day and, on occasion, sometimes didn't even make that.  I was often light headed and woozy. And I was oh so very tired.  Not to mention, the beta blockers that should have been regulating things just didn't seem to be working all that well.

I finally had my echo cardiogram and stress test this past Monday.  I went in to my afternoon's worth of appointments with a list of symptoms and questions and data points I had carefully gathered, only to be completely shut down at the doctor's office that day.  All of my tests came back just fine, so obviously, there was nothing wrong with me.  I was told, point blank, any symptoms I was feeling were likely just residual anxiety and I should just take more of my anti-anxiety meds.

Um..what?  I'll save it for another blog post, but let's just say...I know my way around a good anxiety attack and what I had been feeling was definitely not simply anxiety.  I walked out of the doctors' office in tears and I'm not sure I'd ever felt so humiliated or dismissed by medical professionals in my life.  I also had a brand new event monitor.

I refused to shake the idea that something was seriously wrong with me, though.  I was finally able to speak with a tech the following day who did her best to back up what I had been told the day before.  Fast forward to this afternoon and I had been called back into the doctor's office to speak to an actual doctor for the very first time since I'd been in the ER in the beginning of September.


Turns out....I'm not crazy after all and it's more than anxiety.  I have a particular type of tachycardia that will require a catheterized ablation to stabilize, but, once that happens, I should be set.  I meet with the surgeon Monday afternoon and in the meantime,  I'll be doing exciting things like "not driving," and maybe I'll get around to finishing up my more reflective blog post.

Sure, a simple diagnosis, like traditional SVT, would likely have been easier to handle, I'm just thankful to finally have some real information.  And it is an excellent reminder for all of us to truly listen to our bodies, even when a whole lot of other people seem to think they know more about your own body than you do.