It’s been a weird week. After our normal 5:00 a.m. bootcamp on Tuesday, I started losing my vision on my way to work. It’s happened before. Russ web MD diagnosed me with all kinds of things a few months ago. We settled on “ocular migraine” rather than “deadly brain tumor.” You can imagine why.
Despite my typical resistance to doctor’s appointments, and since my chest pains have been sneaking back in, I figured I might as well nip it and make sure I’m not actually knocking on death’s door.
As I explained the symptoms to the doctor, I started getting sweaty. Like really sweaty. Like, “I would take off all my clothes and lay on this tile floor right now if I could,” sweaty. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was to describe something that I had convinced myself wasn’t serious.
After some brief neurological testing – making sure I hadn’t had a stroke somewhere in there – the doctor ordered an EKG. I grew up with a father that worked in the emergency room. I’ve heard horror medical stories over dinner more times than I can count. But when it came time for my torso to be covered with little electrode patches and hooked up to a machine, shit got real. I was so awkwardly nervous that my inner Chandler came out. Let’s make jokes to pretend that you’re not about to pee your pants in terror…hardly my best quality.
Of course, everything looked normal and I was released back into the world to live another day. Now, the hunt begins for the stress that I’ve been denying that’s causing all of these problems. Time to do some soul searching inventory you know?
On top of that, Piper gave herself a little injury that doesn’t seem super enjoyable. Somehow, during a jet propelled sprint around the backyard, she ripped off one of her toenails. Yuck. So naturally, she had a vet appointment and is on doggy pain meds because we don’t know how to treat our dog like anything other than our human child.
The silver lining is, we got some pretty serious mom-dog napping in while I was unconscious trying to avoid the migraine.
And, I will be very seriously listening to the cues from my body to identify and solve my little stress problem. The next step up is either losing my hair or breaking out with shingles again. If that’s not motivation to chill the f out, I don’t know what is!