Every now and then we all have things happen to us that serve as little wake-up calls. Some might be big wake-up calls. Whether it’s a knock over the head helping us see the blessings we have right in front of us, or a slap in the face to do something we should be doing but aren’t, it happens to us all. I’ve experienced this a few times, and just did yesterday. I’m still trying to process everything- thoughts, feelings, emotions, so bear with me and I’ll try to make this post make sense, even though things don’t completely make sense to me yet. I have a lot to get out of my head and put to paper, as well, so bear with me.
For the past five months or so I’ve been experiencing a pounding, racing heart that won’t slow down. During October, it was happening every week, each one longer than the previous. The last one I think happened on my daughter’s birthday, and lasted 8 hours. But then nothing for the last two months so I figured all was well with the world again. They weren’t much fun because accompanying the pounding-so-my-shirt-shakes hyper-speed rhythms, I also had pain in my chest, up my neck, and an ache in my head. And what was scary was that nothing I did stopped them and they kept getting longer.
After a long difficult week, including one of those birthday’s I’d rather forget, I was studying for my comprehensive exams which are next Friday, when my heart started pounding. I started praying it would stop in a minute, as it has on quite a few occasions. But after I hit an hour with no change, I knew this one was a stubborn episode and wasn’t just going away. Not sure what to do since I’d have to get the kids from school in a couple hours, and wishing it would still stop, I kept at my studying, although I was having a hard time concentrating. Eating lunch was very difficult because it was difficult to move my tongue. When it was almost time to get the kids, I was thinking, I need to stop putting off seeing a doctor.
Now, I associate doctors, doctor’s offices, and hospitals with sadness, pain, sicknesses, medicine (which I’m also not a fan of), and downright fear. Is there some defined phobia of doctors and hospitals? If so, I think I have it. Couple that with never seeming to have enough money as it is, and impending bills from my daughter’s tonsillectomy last month, the thought of going to the doctor down right scared the pants off me. But after school, when my son said, mom, I’m scared, you need to go to the doctor, that did it for me. If for nothing else, I needed to go get it checked for the kids’ sake. Still worried my heart would slow down by the time I got there, as it had once before, I drove the short distance to the student health clinic. My heart was moseying along at 220 beats per minute, more than double a resting pulse. I could tell the doctor and nurse began to panic when they realized they couldn’t do anything for me, not even measure my blood pressure because my heart was pounding so hard. But when I heard the words, call an ambulance, tears came unbidden. My first thought was… what about my kids? They’re at home alone! I told the nurse and she said, it’s okay we can call someone to be with them. They put me in a wheelchair and rolled me into the lab, tears streaming and chin quivering past all the patients in the waiting room. They hooked me up to an EKG to get readouts for the hospital. The nurse took me back to my room via a longer but more discrete route, bless her. Just as we got to my room, the EMT’s also came in with a gurney. A gurney, I was thinking, that’s for really hurt or sick people, I’m fine! I started freaking out again about the kids, as I hadn’t had time to call anyone yet, but the nurse assured me, they’ll be okay.
So, I carefully got up, a bit dizzy and weak, and onto the gurney. They rolled me out to the waiting ambulance. I was flooded with thoughts and emotions, from remembering all the Grey’s Anatomy shows I’d seen with people in much worse condition than me going to the hospital; to hoping no one was stopping and staring at me. I still had on the hospital gown open towards the front and I was trying to stay modest. Not only that, but the EMT’s were all extremely cute and I was certainly not looking my best. The ride to the hospital was one of those events that seem to last forever but also goes by quickly. They tried to get an IV in me, but told me I have deep veins, so they couldn’t get it. They were impressed at how long and hard I could blow through this tube, an effort to slow down my heart which didn’t work. And said I could easily run a marathon, to which I quickly replied, nah, I only run 1.5 to 2 miles a day, there’s no way I could do a marathon. One of the guys said, if I can do it, you can… and your heart is going so fast and has for so long, it’s like you’ve already run a marathon.
I don’t want to describe the entire ambulance ride, but I can tell you those men definitely have a gift. A gift for making someone feel at ease during a crisis situation. There was a feeling of peace and calm in the ambulance I wasn’t anticipating. Despite being in pain, scared, and worried about the kids, the EMTs were kind and soothing and somehow comforted me in my time of need. And isn’t that what the Savior asked of us, to succor those in need of succoring? I thanked the EMT’s when they left, but their acts of kindness and unselfishness will forever be engrained in my heart.
The stress and shock from this experience had made me start shivering and my hands were freezing, made worse when they wheeled me out of the ambulance. I could see nurses and a doctor getting ready for our arrival inside. They quickly got me into a room and it took about 8 people to lift me off the gurney onto the bed. I was fully prepared to get up and do it myself, but one of the EMT’s said, no, let us do it for you. Not used to having other people take care of me, I acquiesced.
I find it hard to believe that my ER doctor having the same condition as me was a coincidence. Knowing he knew how I felt was comforting. The adept nurses got an IV in me with no trouble. Because nothing anybody was doing was making my heart slow down, they decided to give me some medicine that would stop my heart and make it go down to a normal pace. Because this medicine is usually administered in the field and therefore not in the ER, all the med students were brought in to observe. While we were waiting on the medicine, it was a little disconcerting to have a packed house- med students, nurses, the doctor and the EMT’s were all standing there watching me while I knew I was not looking up to beauty pageant quality. The doctor had tried to tell me what it would feel like, but I wasn’t prepared for the almost immediate hot, pressing/squeezing sensation that started around my mid-section and quickly spread out after the doctor pushed the liquid through my IV. Within a few seconds, just when I thought I would be squeezed to death, arching my back and squeezing my eyes shut, my heart slowed down, the strange sensation stopped and the symptoms started receding. After perhaps 30 seconds, my heart beat had returned to normal and the room cleared out faster than you can say all better now!
The doctor said that other than speed, my heart beats had been regular and consistent, contrary to what he himself usually experienced. I asked if running 5-6 times a week had anything to do with that, and he said maybe. I said I had worried that running made my heart worse, and he said, no definitely not. When I was getting ready to leave, probably 15 minutes after he’d given me the magic meds, the nurse said she’d never seen anyone recover that quickly. It was then that I’d never been so thankful for being in good shape.
For now, I’m not sure what will happen. I feel like I’m a walking, ticking time bomb. I have a short circuit in my heart and when it starts beating fast, sometimes it can’t stop. Although I know my Heavenly Father loves me and won’t leave me comfortless, I’m scared. Not scared to die. But scared of the unknown. What if I need a painful surgery or have to take expensive medication the rest of my life? What if a really bad episode happens when I’m with the kids, and they have to go to the hospital with me and what if I don’t make it, and they have to watch?
In addition, I feel like I have one more strike against me when it comes to dating. My guess is, many guys won’t want to deal with the potential problems. As I’ve reflected today on yesterday’s events, I’ve had occasional tears. There is so much to be thankful for. The nurse at the clinic who told me my kids would be taken care of, came up to my apartment to check on them and ask around for someone to look in on them. I’d just barely gotten home when two leaders from my church called to see if I was okay and if they could do anything. You read about nurses and doctors working together quickly and efficiently amongst the chaos in an ER, and I can attest to the truthfulness of that. I’m thankful for their kindness, dedication, and for all those hours they put in learning what they needed to in order to help me. I’m grateful for all the prayers from my friends who responded to my post on Facebook about my first ride in an ambulance. I’m thankful the kids were okay, although my daughter cried when she found out I was taken to the hospital. And there’s still some fear in all of us of the unknown.
On the other hand, I had to wonder why everyone was making a fuss. I know plenty of other people who have been through worse. And I know had the worst happened, people would be sad, but everyone moves on. And Don Queco has been on my mind a lot this week, I’m not sure why. I wondered later if he was there in the ER with me, watching over me. Last night as I looked at a picture of us on my mirror, I really missed him. I wished he was there to give me one of his amazing hugs. And today I acutely felt my loneliness at still being single. When the kids went through their usual arguing and fighting today it was almost too much.
This was another of those events, like Don Queco’s death, that made me feel different about the world I live in. It doesn’t look the same, feel the same. I’m not the same. I’m so grateful again for having met Edward this summer, and that he got me into running, because I’m pretty sure yesterday would have been much worse if I wasn’t in the best physical shape I’ve ever been in. But on the other hand, I’m so weary of life. I’m worried about these bills, about not having enough study time yesterday and today to do well on my exams Friday. I’d just as soon be done with life already. I don’t want my body to shut down and wear out as I age. I don’t want my kids, my parents, or my friends to have to worry about me. I don’t want to worry about me. And I miss Don Queco.
My wake-up call came in the realization that working out is the best things I’ve done for myself in a long time. But there are some things I need to fix and stop making excuses as to why I can’t overcome them.
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