The Heavy Heart
Over the last few weeks I've been having strange goins on in my chest. It feels like my heart has an invisible hand around it and that hand does a milisecond SQUEEZE which makes me flinch and a puff of air come out of my mouth.
I'll put both hands out onto imaginary steadying rails and look around as if to say "did you feel that" and then stand there for a few seconds to see if it happens again. It doesn't, at least not right away. I might have two in a 30 minute period, but that's it. And they have gone away for a day or two; just long enough for me to think that was the end of that nonsense, then BAMMO, the squeeze by the unseen hand!
My husband has been working a lot of overtime lately, and once I was home alone; just lying on the couch enjoying some Tivo - I got a few of them in a short amount of time. "Oh my god. Is this the little earthquake before the big tsunami? What if it really takes a hold of me and won't let go next time? Will I be able to phone the paramedics? Will I be able to get to the door to unlock it or will they have to smash a window? What if I go permanently unconsious like Terri Schiavo?" It went on and on like that for a while and needless to say, I was convinced that I needed to see the doctor.
I went to see Dr. Marsh last Thursday. They forewarned me that I'd be subjected to a blood test so I immediately put Darrin on notice that he'd be coming with me to hold my hand; or more accurately to allow me to squeeze the color and feeling from his.
I did not care for the blood pressure test that came first. Call me crazy, but something about having my arm strangled until I can feel and almost hear my own heart in it gives me the heebie jeebies. I crank my head into the opposite direction, hold that arm deadly still, and snap my fingers spasmodically with the other hand until it's over.
When the delicate latina beauty came in to take blood, I went right into my panic. Lots of inappropriate giggling, head thrashing, mouth covering, wide eyes and a refusal if not an actual inability to make a fist with the hand attached to the arm that she was about to poke.
To her credit, she did a great job but I was going to admit it. I still couldn't move for several minutes after she took the needle out and wasn't interested in pushing on the cotton ball she taped to the spot of injury like she asked me to.
"Do you have children?" She asked. "No." "Well, when you do, you'll get used to this." Apparently when you're pregnant you must surrender vials on a regular basis. Yick.
When pressed by my husband for just exactly what my problem is in the area of blood testing I can only recall my senior year in high school. It's 1988 and Debi Dodge, my new friend the cheerleader talked me into donating blood to the Red Cross. They were at our school and we could get out of gym AND get extra credit if we donated. Plus I could spend some quality time with Debi with our heads together in an "L" formation and talk about boys or whatever.
The rickety old lady in the Red Cross uniform hooked Debi up first. She seemed fine, although I made the mistake of looking at the needle, which resembled a silver toothpick that had been hollowed out. That thing was HUGE.
I laid there and tried to look cool while the old gal swabbed me with a chilly cotton ball drenched in alcohol. She tied me off, asked me to make a fist and OUCH I felt every bit of that damn needlepick. Puff puff puff, I was taking quick shallow breaths and my back arched up toward the gym ceiling. "Relax dear" the old girl said while she put a big "X" of surgical tape over the needle. "ITHURTSITHURTSITHURTS" I forced out between erractic puffs. "Just relax and it will stop hurting" she again tried to reassure me. Puff, puff "NO. (puff puff) ITSTILLHURTS!" Debi craned her neck up and demaned of our elderly volunteer "Why is it still HURTING HER?"
"Oh goodness, it's in a bit crooked." she said, and do you know what she did next? She slowly peeled the tape back, extracted the needle halfway, straightened it, then shoved it the rest of the way back in! I swear to god!
My back arched highter and I slammed my head into the papered table.
My arm developed a 4 inch bruise of many vile colors and a hard knot the size of a pea formed in the middle of my vein that I had to take antibiots for and apply warm compresses on for a week.
Meanwhile, back in my 2006 appointment, the lovely young latina mother gave me a quick EKG and sent the Dr. back in. He told me he that he did hear some straining sound in my heart, but it was NOTHING SERIOUS, and certainly nothing that would kill me even if it hurt. He said that althogh the EKG looked normal, he wanted me to do a 2D electrocardiogram on Monday (today).
Dr. Marsh didn't say so, but I'm relating these phantom sensations on stress. It's the only thing I can think of. I'm still a young girl, I don't smoke or drink, I don't use accessive amounts of salt, I don't do crack, I don't vomit, I'm not overweight; I simply cannot think of any other reason other than stress. So what could I have to be stressed about?
Let me think...in the last few weeks the following thoughts or events have occurred:
My cat Tiny got a bad infection that before his tests came back appeared to be some kind of brain tumor to the doctor; not to mention the heck of a time we had on the way home from the vet (including but not limited to him vomiting and poo pooing his carrier and himself, and the subsequent cleaning of such offending carrier and very sick kitty all by myself).
My husband expressed a slight worry about the new merger between his company and the one they just aquired which could adversely affect the picture he's on; and therefore his job.
As the kindly blood tester pointed out, I'm almost 36 and am painfully unprepared to have a baby, or address everything that that brings up for me emotionally.
My alpha boss had been prone to snappy comments and being an overall temperamental sniper of misdirected work anxiety; pointing and shooting at will - right at me.
My sweet sister got her feelings hurt really badly by a close family member and I just wanted to make it better for her; and could not.
We're remodeling our bathroom and will literally be flushing thousands down a brand new toilet, sink and tub.
***************************
This morning, as I sat in the waiting room of the Cardiology unit flipping through an outdated issue of USWeekly, I was overcome by the smell of cigarette laced clothing on the folks around me (who were all in their 50s, 60s, 70s and older). I was called in by a red headed gentleman who led me to my room past a noisy row of chairs with arm extenders. There was someone in each chair with their arm on the extender and a number of medical assistants attending to most of them. I wasn't allowed any coffee this morning so it took a moment to realize that all the slapping and smacking I was hearing was that of the arms of the folks in the chairs while their veins were being coaxed to come out and receive their iv fluids. EEEK! Walk faster. Walk faster.
The red head and I had our time together in silence. He stuck a few patches onto my chest and attached wires to them. Then he had me lie on my side, dropped the table out from under my rib cage, goo'ed up a wand and pressed it down firmly on different areas of my chest and ribs. I didn't care for the sensation of feeling my heart beat on this cold and goopy wand, nor did I care for hearing my heart every so often when Red would flip a switch to get a different type of swishing space age beat sound. I only took one look at the monitor and that was all I needed. The sight of my heart doing some crazy dance with different colors in different areas was nothing I could stand to look at. So I turned away. Tried to turn off, and found my eyes wet with exhausted tears.
Tiny's tests came back negative for anything serious and he's responding well to the antibiotics. He's about 99% better.
My husband reminded me that he'll take care of me and of us. No matter what. We'll be alright.
My sister brandished one of her new tools she picked up from watching Starting Over and pointed out that the family member is "who he is." And she lovingly accepts him as such.
I had a meeting with my boss and she agreed that she had been reacting from stress; not at all meaning to offend or upset me in the process and gave me a hug.
Growing up with the kind of mother that I did, I have never felt financially secure. At the age of 15 my Baskin Robbins paychecks helped us barely make the rent more than a few times; so of course I'm anxious around spending big amounts of money.
It'll take a few days to get my results back, but you know what? Since I had the test I have not been squeezed by an unseen hand. At least not around my heart. Not in that painful way. But I have felt a warm hand, and I have felt taken care of.
I'll put both hands out onto imaginary steadying rails and look around as if to say "did you feel that" and then stand there for a few seconds to see if it happens again. It doesn't, at least not right away. I might have two in a 30 minute period, but that's it. And they have gone away for a day or two; just long enough for me to think that was the end of that nonsense, then BAMMO, the squeeze by the unseen hand!
My husband has been working a lot of overtime lately, and once I was home alone; just lying on the couch enjoying some Tivo - I got a few of them in a short amount of time. "Oh my god. Is this the little earthquake before the big tsunami? What if it really takes a hold of me and won't let go next time? Will I be able to phone the paramedics? Will I be able to get to the door to unlock it or will they have to smash a window? What if I go permanently unconsious like Terri Schiavo?" It went on and on like that for a while and needless to say, I was convinced that I needed to see the doctor.
I went to see Dr. Marsh last Thursday. They forewarned me that I'd be subjected to a blood test so I immediately put Darrin on notice that he'd be coming with me to hold my hand; or more accurately to allow me to squeeze the color and feeling from his.
I did not care for the blood pressure test that came first. Call me crazy, but something about having my arm strangled until I can feel and almost hear my own heart in it gives me the heebie jeebies. I crank my head into the opposite direction, hold that arm deadly still, and snap my fingers spasmodically with the other hand until it's over.
When the delicate latina beauty came in to take blood, I went right into my panic. Lots of inappropriate giggling, head thrashing, mouth covering, wide eyes and a refusal if not an actual inability to make a fist with the hand attached to the arm that she was about to poke.
To her credit, she did a great job but I was going to admit it. I still couldn't move for several minutes after she took the needle out and wasn't interested in pushing on the cotton ball she taped to the spot of injury like she asked me to.
"Do you have children?" She asked. "No." "Well, when you do, you'll get used to this." Apparently when you're pregnant you must surrender vials on a regular basis. Yick.
When pressed by my husband for just exactly what my problem is in the area of blood testing I can only recall my senior year in high school. It's 1988 and Debi Dodge, my new friend the cheerleader talked me into donating blood to the Red Cross. They were at our school and we could get out of gym AND get extra credit if we donated. Plus I could spend some quality time with Debi with our heads together in an "L" formation and talk about boys or whatever.
The rickety old lady in the Red Cross uniform hooked Debi up first. She seemed fine, although I made the mistake of looking at the needle, which resembled a silver toothpick that had been hollowed out. That thing was HUGE.
I laid there and tried to look cool while the old gal swabbed me with a chilly cotton ball drenched in alcohol. She tied me off, asked me to make a fist and OUCH I felt every bit of that damn needlepick. Puff puff puff, I was taking quick shallow breaths and my back arched up toward the gym ceiling. "Relax dear" the old girl said while she put a big "X" of surgical tape over the needle. "ITHURTSITHURTSITHURTS" I forced out between erractic puffs. "Just relax and it will stop hurting" she again tried to reassure me. Puff, puff "NO. (puff puff) ITSTILLHURTS!" Debi craned her neck up and demaned of our elderly volunteer "Why is it still HURTING HER?"
"Oh goodness, it's in a bit crooked." she said, and do you know what she did next? She slowly peeled the tape back, extracted the needle halfway, straightened it, then shoved it the rest of the way back in! I swear to god!
My back arched highter and I slammed my head into the papered table.
My arm developed a 4 inch bruise of many vile colors and a hard knot the size of a pea formed in the middle of my vein that I had to take antibiots for and apply warm compresses on for a week.
Meanwhile, back in my 2006 appointment, the lovely young latina mother gave me a quick EKG and sent the Dr. back in. He told me he that he did hear some straining sound in my heart, but it was NOTHING SERIOUS, and certainly nothing that would kill me even if it hurt. He said that althogh the EKG looked normal, he wanted me to do a 2D electrocardiogram on Monday (today).
Dr. Marsh didn't say so, but I'm relating these phantom sensations on stress. It's the only thing I can think of. I'm still a young girl, I don't smoke or drink, I don't use accessive amounts of salt, I don't do crack, I don't vomit, I'm not overweight; I simply cannot think of any other reason other than stress. So what could I have to be stressed about?
Let me think...in the last few weeks the following thoughts or events have occurred:
My cat Tiny got a bad infection that before his tests came back appeared to be some kind of brain tumor to the doctor; not to mention the heck of a time we had on the way home from the vet (including but not limited to him vomiting and poo pooing his carrier and himself, and the subsequent cleaning of such offending carrier and very sick kitty all by myself).
My husband expressed a slight worry about the new merger between his company and the one they just aquired which could adversely affect the picture he's on; and therefore his job.
As the kindly blood tester pointed out, I'm almost 36 and am painfully unprepared to have a baby, or address everything that that brings up for me emotionally.
My alpha boss had been prone to snappy comments and being an overall temperamental sniper of misdirected work anxiety; pointing and shooting at will - right at me.
My sweet sister got her feelings hurt really badly by a close family member and I just wanted to make it better for her; and could not.
We're remodeling our bathroom and will literally be flushing thousands down a brand new toilet, sink and tub.
***************************
This morning, as I sat in the waiting room of the Cardiology unit flipping through an outdated issue of USWeekly, I was overcome by the smell of cigarette laced clothing on the folks around me (who were all in their 50s, 60s, 70s and older). I was called in by a red headed gentleman who led me to my room past a noisy row of chairs with arm extenders. There was someone in each chair with their arm on the extender and a number of medical assistants attending to most of them. I wasn't allowed any coffee this morning so it took a moment to realize that all the slapping and smacking I was hearing was that of the arms of the folks in the chairs while their veins were being coaxed to come out and receive their iv fluids. EEEK! Walk faster. Walk faster.
The red head and I had our time together in silence. He stuck a few patches onto my chest and attached wires to them. Then he had me lie on my side, dropped the table out from under my rib cage, goo'ed up a wand and pressed it down firmly on different areas of my chest and ribs. I didn't care for the sensation of feeling my heart beat on this cold and goopy wand, nor did I care for hearing my heart every so often when Red would flip a switch to get a different type of swishing space age beat sound. I only took one look at the monitor and that was all I needed. The sight of my heart doing some crazy dance with different colors in different areas was nothing I could stand to look at. So I turned away. Tried to turn off, and found my eyes wet with exhausted tears.
Tiny's tests came back negative for anything serious and he's responding well to the antibiotics. He's about 99% better.
My husband reminded me that he'll take care of me and of us. No matter what. We'll be alright.
My sister brandished one of her new tools she picked up from watching Starting Over and pointed out that the family member is "who he is." And she lovingly accepts him as such.
I had a meeting with my boss and she agreed that she had been reacting from stress; not at all meaning to offend or upset me in the process and gave me a hug.
Growing up with the kind of mother that I did, I have never felt financially secure. At the age of 15 my Baskin Robbins paychecks helped us barely make the rent more than a few times; so of course I'm anxious around spending big amounts of money.
It'll take a few days to get my results back, but you know what? Since I had the test I have not been squeezed by an unseen hand. At least not around my heart. Not in that painful way. But I have felt a warm hand, and I have felt taken care of.
posted by MimiLolly at 2:41 PM
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