“Nah, it’s probably nothing,” I said to my mother through the phone as I clutched at my chest, struggling to breathe deeply beyond the extreme tightness.  –Hoping that if I could just get in one deep breath, it’d loosen it all up.

Yeh, someday I’m probably going to kill myself.  On accident.

The day before, I’d pushed myself too far.  I’d finally pushed the little red button on the physical therapist’s table after my hands and feet began DRIPPING with sweat and my heart pounded so fast and hard it felt like it’d jump straight out of my chest.  My head pounded along with my heartbeat, deafening my thoughts.  My stomach flipped, threatening to spill its contents.  And, suddenly the room wouldn’t stop spinning.  After a few moments, the assistant released me from the traction machine as I lay there, trying to sip water.  Just trying to will my body into calming down.

It was weird.  Motions I’d gone through a million times before, motions that never brought out even the slightest of responses of this kind.

I’d sat for a few minutes before grabbing my keys and forging forward, just ready to be in my home so I could put my feet up (or clean before my in-laws arrived in a short amount of time as the case was that day).

The tight feeling in my chest never went away.  I was exhausted (for no apparent reason) and ready to be in bed by 8pm.  Then, the next morning, everything seemed fine.

Until it wasn’t.

Out of nowhere, it felt like a hand had reached into my chest and was squeezing my heart.  I couldn’t take deep breaths.  I could breathe, but I felt continuously out of breath.  I felt faint.  Weak.

And then my mom convinced me to go to the ER, after all I DID (do) have mitral valve prolapse – a heart condition – she reminded me.  And, with the enormous amounts of stress I’d been under, it was very possible that even in my 20s I could be having a heart attack or stroke.

So, I went.

After a full 8 hours of laying in a bed alone, they decided that I most likely wasn’t having a heart attack or stroke at that moment.  (I wasn’t consistently hooked up to any given machine except for an IV drip bag that hung from a hook…and that’s not really a “machine”.)  They did a CT scan to check for anything else damaging that could be causing an immediate concern, and turns out I’m allergic to iodine.

I found this out AFTER it’d been sent coursing through my veins.

So, in addition to being a big swollen ball of puffy hives, I’m trying to de-stress my funky heart.

So, if you’d like to help, feel free to pay my bills, buy me presents, make me rich …you know, anything that’d make my life slightly less stressful as I deal with the “bigger” things.  And then, there’s always the jokes, devotions, and cute emails and sweet pictures that you can send.  Or, prayers.  Prayers are pretty good too.

NOTE:  FOR THOSE THAT DON’T KNOW ME VERY WELL, I’M. JUST. KIDDING. ABOUT THE PAYING OF BILLS AND PRESENTS AND GOING OUT OF YOUR WAY THING.  WELL, UNLESS YOU REALLY WANT TO DO IT, I WOULDN’T COMPLAIN OR ANYTHING.  BUT, I DON’T EXPECT IT.  I KNOW I’M “SPECIAL” – JUST NOT IN THAT WAY.

Welcome back!