So, ok, that was another
intense weekend this weekend, and hey, aren't I due for a really fun awesome relaxed and happy one soon? Yes, I think so, but anyway.
I've had a cold/flu sort of thing since Monday and it was a little bit sore throat a little bit cough and kind of like there was an elephant standing on my chest and then I was tooooooo hot, but shivery and oh please don't touch my skin and sweating while I slept and not hungry which meant so tired, but really food? Yuck. Whose idea was that anyway?
So, yeah, that was this week and then on Thursday I was such a wreck that I wasn't even sure what my name was and, well, that's not so good for the spy work don't you know it so Friday became a sick day.
I went for a walk around lunch on Friday and it was the most super slow-mo walk ever but still I was going to do my "exercise every day
" walk so help me and by the time I got home I was exhausted and had managed to give myself some wicked bad heartburn.
I figured the heartburn was from not eating much and then exercising (because why else would I get random heartburn, right?) and popped some Gaviscon.
Which didn't help.
And, I mean, this was intensely painful heartburn you guys, like when I moved in a way that aggravated it I'd freeze and just pray for it to stop because holy smokes bad bad ouch bad.
The coughing made it hurt, breathing more than a pant made it worse, lying down made it worse, sitting up in the "wrong" position made it worse, don't even *think* about lying or moving onto my left side because that was just asking for more of the sharp poker stabbingness so I went to London Drugs and got Maalox and Zantac and talked to the pharmacist who told me sometimes it just takes a while to settle down if the lining's really irritated and who told me how much I could take.
Which I did and then tenderly lay in the one position in bed that I could and dozed. (Have you ever tried to sleep without moving? Doesn't work. Hence: no sleep.)
By the time I woke up on Saturday I was pretty sure something wasn't right and that it wasn't heartburn. The mere fact that I was awake at 8 on a weekend, for those of you know know my sleeping patterns, is proof of how un-great I was feeling.
So I decided to Google what else could possibly be going on and while I know that's not a great idea, I'm pretty medically smart and know enough to not freak out if Google comes up with a rare tropical illness I've obviously contracted and am about to die from, but nonetheless the symptoms weren't coming up with anything good.
So I called the BC Nurse Line (which, if you're in BC and don't know about it is 8-1-1 and is great and free) to get some reassurance and advice but because of the no-sleep and the serious pain I kind of burst into tears when they started asking me questions.
As in "Can you give me your name please?"
Me: "Sob. . . sob. . . yes. . cough OUCH. . It's. . Vic. . sob. . . toria."
So that made me feel kind of stupid (and yes I know I'm starting lots of sentences with "so", So?) and then when I started talking to the very nice nurse she started asking me questions that I knew weren't good but I answered honestly anyway.
Her: "Do you have a fever?"
Me: "Yes, but I've had one all week with the cold you see."
Her: "And are you sweaty or clammy?"
Me: "Yes, but I've been like that all week with the cold."
Her: "And the pain, is it referring up your neck at all?"
Me: "Well, yes, but that's because I'm so tense with how much it hurts I'm tensing everything and so now they hurt too."
I knew where she was going; heart-attack, and while I was pretty sure I wasn't having one, I also didn't know what was going on to cause that much pain. And it really was that much pain.
Her, very gently: "I don't mean to alarm you, but I need you to get checked out right away so that we can make sure you're not having a heart attack."
Me: "Can't I just go to a walk in clinic? I mean, (and then I started crying again) I don't want to be the person who shows up at the ER with heartburn!"
Her: "No, I really think you need to go, right now, to the ER. And don't worry, if it turns out it's just heartburn, then they'll have the proper medication to give you to make it go away. So, I need you to tell me you're going get someone to take you to the Emergency Room right away and if you don't have someone to take you, I need you to call 9-1-1 ok?"
Me: (so totally crying now, which, of course hurts like a bugger and now I can't breathe because of the crying and pain and oh crap this is not good) "OK. I will."
Because really that was not how I was hoping the conversation would go at all.
Her: "Ok, can you tell me what you're going to do?"
Me: "I'll call some people and (full on crying again) ask if they can take me to the ER."
Her: "Ok, great, good. You take care ok."
Me: "Thank. . . sob. . . you."
And so I called a couple of people but they weren't home and I called a couple more but they have kids so I didn't ask for a ride and I thought of calling a couple other people but then who wants to invite someone for a possible boring morning of sitting in an ER so I just (did the stupid and unsafe thing and) drove myself.
To make an already incredibly long story short(er). I got there, cried in reception, got taken in really quickly, they checked out my heart, which was fine (so I cried some more) and when I got to see the doctor (not too much later) he told me my EKG was fine, my lungs sounded fine, everything was fine except for the muscle I'd torn in my chest.
"It's incredibly painful, I know" he said as I started crying AGAIN "but it's not your heart, and it'll heal itself." To which I gave him a thumbs up, because what else do you do when someone tells you you're *not*, in fact, having a heart problem of any kind and you're greatly relieved but still at the same time were hoping for, oh, I don't know, a pneumonia or something so you didn't feel quite so silly for freaking out and feeling like a wimp.
He offered to give me some crazy pain meds (which I turned down cuz they make me puke, lucky me) and sleeping pills (which I also turned down because I didn't feel like that'd help with the actual pain and so why bother except, oh, right I forgot I can't sleep with the pain) and told me to take a ton of Advil every four hours and that it should start to feel better in about a week.
So there was a massive feeling of relief (which, not surprisingly seemed to help the pain) to know that it wasn't some kind of heart-related illness and wasn't something that was going to incapacitate me but rather, just a very painful but not serious problem. Massive relief.
So I met some friends at the Oak Bay Tea party for the parade and then went home and sort-of-lay on the couch (because I can't actually lay down yet.... wait, lie? can I not lie down or lay down? I'm going with lie) and was exhausted.
Not sleeping plus high emotional stress = exhaustion.
Things started to feel better yesterday, I actually took a full breath and I think the muscle's loosening or healing or whatever it needs to be doing because I've found a few more positions I can lie/lay in.
I bummed myself out a bit on Sunday night by choosing to not go to the Xavier Rudd concert I've been looking forward to for ages, but my wiser self figured that two hours of standing and/or cheering and dancing wouldn't do my cough or my still really hurty when you hit the wrong position chest thing any good, but it still was sad to miss it. I haven't missed a Xavier show since the first one I saw seven years ago.
But it was the right (and smart) thing to do, right? To stay home and rest? (Tell me yes or I'll cry and I don't want to cry, it hurts the chest-thing.)
So let's all cross our fingers that next weekend's a good one, nay, a great one!
Or at least a happy, mellow one.
And, no matter what's kind of crummy with your life and/or your day today? Just take a moment to be glad you're alive and well and breathing and give yourself a hug for me ok? Thanks.