If you’re like me. . .
You’re back to the freak out.
A few days ago, possibly a week, I started feeling the same way I’d felt in the year before my heart attack. Hard to breath. Tired a lot. (Which are probably related!?) Some tingling, fuzzy in the blood feelings. Oh, and nauseous. Not really hungry for anything, though when I actually take a bite I realize I am hungry.
So, I did the responsible thing and called the Dr. Office for a heart cath procedure. This is, as I understand it, when they send a little camera through your vein (hopefully arm instead of groin) and check for blockages.
I was offered this procedure two years ago, after I’d had an "incident". I declined because of money and a huge disinclination to be poked and prodded AGAIN. But my mom said I should have done it, because it is better to be sure.
Hence, the responsible thing this time around. A camera insert isn’t open heart surgery; a stint isn’t a heart transplant. Funny how our perspective changes once we’ve lived with things a while. And perhaps, for all my brave talk about being comfortable with the cycle of life and the ease of death, perhaps I too am afraid of it.
I wasn’t able to schedule at the time I called. They had to go through channels, get the Doctor’s approval, etc and so forth. Our health care system is so patriarchal.
I’ve felt better since then. Even yesterday, I wondered if all I really needed was more medication (blech) or exercise. I have a terrible time with the diet part. I was able to quit smoking, because of a life bed promise to my mother, but food. Food is wonderful. Food and drink. Mmmmm. Regardless. I have been productive and energetic and pretty full of life and vim and vigor. Reestablished.
But today. Today, a date has been set for the procedure. Just a few minutes ago. And now, all I want to do is hide in video games, or books. Just sit back and hide. My blood fuzzes again, my brain shuts down. (Or maybe I forgot to take my pills.) And I’m nervous to even contemplate tomorrow.
But. I made myself sit down and actually write this. And since writing something every day is one of my self imposed chores, I am proud. I will now probably give into the desire to play games. But then, I will go to the store. Then I will freak out a little more. And then I will pay bills and do paperwork.
One step at a time. One breath at a time. It could all change in five minutes anyway. So let it go until it’s time to freak out. And what time would that be? The 12 hours before the procedure when I’m supposed to be fasting and I forgot and had a cookie. That’s a good time to freak out. *G*.
Thanks for listening.