Wheeless Bus

 My friend Diana messaged me to say that it looked like yesterday the wheels fell off the bus.

And yes, indeed, yesterday was a terrible, horrible, very bad day, all because of MY EMOTIONS. If I didn't feel so much, if I weren't such a fucking typical EType4, it would actually have been a breeze.  All my life I've wanted to be someone else, someone who wasn't so reactive, who didn't have so many feelings. Yesterday was a great example of why. I could have been as cool as Steve Irwin petting a crocodile and taken it all in stride.  But oh no.  I had an emotional breakdown.

The bad day was partially in response to a medical scare but was mostly a grief burst.  I've been struggling lately as this summer, when I'm not traveling, I've been reminded more of Will and how much I miss having someone to hold me and love me.

Leftovers the morning after an EKG

Anyway, this is what happened.

I woke up early (2:30 ish) Wednesday morning to deal with the puppy's upset guts.  I took her outside.  She needed to go out one more time before I finally got up at 3:30.  The morning continued (coffee, weed, protein drink) and I took Sequel for her 45 minute walk and also got her to the dog park for a run and rassle.  I also got Mr. Winston out for a short walk.

Then I went to the Exercise Coach at 9:40, for some reason crying on the way there.  I was just feeling sad and tired.  Sherri asked how I felt and I told her, not good, and that I'd been having chest pains for three days.  She suggested strongly that I go to the doctor or to an emergency room. 

Now, here we have the "mom or dad" option.  If I was working with my mom genes, I would have just got on with everything and not worried about it and not even mentioned the 3 days of chest pains and the 3 hours of sleep.  But no, my dad genes were at work and a got all panicky that the pain, which I felt at the same place on my back, was heart trouble.  

So I called Fall Creek and told them about the pain.  They said come in at 11:00.  So I went home, made sure the dogs were empty of pee, and went to my doctors.  There, a tattooed tech gave me the EKG and a Dr. Jessica explained my next options where were going to the emergency room or getting some tests taken care of on my own feet.

So even though they sent the info through cyberspace, I also had Zach at the Doc's office print out the orders my doc wanted -- to CORA for a chest xray and  then to St. Charles for bloodwork.  It all actually went quite fast.  CORA is in a construction mess but was VERY fast. Sadly, the chest x-ray does not make up for my missing booby squishings.

The blood work was very busy ... so many findings. I finally was able to go home for a little while but almost as soon as I got home and got the dogs out once more I got a call that I had to go to the emergency room for a CT Scan because I had an elevated D-Dimer. So I went back to the hospital and the tears just kept coming.

I felt so much fear and loneliness.  I wanted Will so bad. As an EType4, when I am at my lowest I am rescue-seeking.  This is one reason I won't ask for help because to me it's a sign of mental weakness.  Also, I'm a fucking Boomer. Boomers don't ask for help. So anyway, I was also getting triggered big time as the last time I was in the emergency room it was when I spent 8 hours there with a bloody towel around my sliced wrist, waiting for surgery. So as crazy and whiny as I was yesterday, I did my best to make wisecracks with every tech, doctor, and nurse I met while also falling apart.

Everybody was really nice to me.  Some even laughed at my jokes (the old, corny, routine of repeating the person's self description as though it's their last name, as in, "Hi, I'm Stuart, phlebotomist". "Hi, Stuart Phlebotomist".  The importance of the oral comma.

I was asked twice if I wanted to see a social worker and I said "yes" the second time but they never got to me.  I did, however, get a printout of ideas for dealing with adult anxiety. I was home by 5:30.

After I got home I texted Sarah and she texted right back, saying she'd call me in 15 minutes. which she did.  She helped me right away by reminding me of the profound work we've done together and reminding me that I'm not the outlier I often think I am.  I also got texts from Stacy and Betsy expressing their concern.  

So, all in all, in hindsight the worst part of the day was my anxiety, grief, and fear, not what was actually happening. Everyone was caring.  No one hurt me. The phlebotomist who made a mistake didn't hurt me when he did it. The other phlebotomist was perfect.