Attack of the Episode

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Hello my darlings!

Okay. So. Here’s what happened.

It’s been an unfathomably busy summer here in Fizzyland. Lots to do, kids to raise, mom fell off a porch, you get the idea. All of this has sort of led to me being a bouncing ball of stress for the last four weeks or so.

Example: At Midwest Writer’s this year, which I have attempted to blog about multiple times and absolutely will post soon, I cried in someone’s face when they gave me a pie. Seriously. Right in her face.

My hubs theorizes that perhaps it’s because I’m doing all of my big adult life stuff all at once. Raising the small children, starting a career, dealing with aging parents.

I won’t lie, it would be cool if certain things spaced themselves out more, but it’s life, yeah?

I’ve been balancing the best I can, pie sobbing aside, and soldiering on. My porch diving mom had surgery two days before MWW, then I come home to a hubs about to leave on a conference trip, my daughter starting school, and GISHWHES all happening at once. I was starting to crack a bit.

Last Thursday, I got a migraine. Not rare by any means. But this one was a dick and no matter what I did, it wouldn’t get even a little better.

My migraine medication has written on the bottle that a second pill *can* be taken two hours after the first pill, but I’ve never done so. I know this medicine is hardcore and I didn’t want to like, cross the streams.

That should tell you how bad this migraine was. It made me cross the streams. I took the second pill.

And within about thirty minutes, I was fairly sure I was dying.

I can handle pain. I’m dramatic and all, but I can physically handle actual pain.

I couldn’t handle this.

It should clue you in on how this story is going to go that I legitimately thought I might be dying and the next sentence doesn’t start, “So I called 911 like a normal human.”

I honestly don’t remember a terrible lot about what happened after a certain point. I remember lying in bed feeling like I’d been punched in the chest. I tried to track my pulse but it got so high my little checker thing couldn’t register it. I half stumbled out to where my husband was working at 11pm saying “HELP ME.” because I was scared to death. I remember running away from him because weeeee time to vomit everything ever.

I sort of remember lying on the living room floor convincing him I didn’t need to go to the emergency room because I didn’t want to wake the kids up with our daughter having just completed her first day of school, and I didn’t want to call any friends or family at midnight like a jerk. I think our daughter even came out to get a drink and I was using my very best Mommy voice and trying to laugh off mommy being silly with a headache.

(This is another instance of “Don’t be like your Aunty Fizz, kids.”)

At some point I fell asleep. Or passed out. I’m not really sure. I just remember waking up feeling like death. But, that had to wait. I had a kid to get on the bus, one to get breakfast, calls to make setting up my mom’s physical therapy, and a prescription to get for my husband. And I still had the migraine full-force. Woohoo.

Guys. I know. I’m fucking stupid.

During the course of these errands, I did place a call to my doctor’s nurse line saying I had a dick of a migraine, please advise.

It was during my wait at the pharmacy picking up the hub’s meds that I sort of slurred out a question to the pharmacist about what had happened to me the night before. He looked worried saying it was a very strong medicine but that sounded like a severe reaction.

He then looked up my records and saw that I was on a few heart medications. Cue all the panic in the world ever.

I ran home to tell the hubs that our pharmacist was rather convinced I’d had a heart attack and I needed emergency medical help. The fact that my heart was still racing and skipping all morning was also a good indicator. At that exact moment, the doctor’s nurse called back to talk migraines, and I decided maybe I should be a bit more forthcoming about what had gone down.

“OH MY GOD GO TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM RIGHT NOW!”

Actual quote.

So. Yeah. That happened.

And he was right. I’d had a very mild heart attack. I emphasize very mild because this wasn’t a dramatic, chest-clutching moment.

Yes. I just used a GIF to explain my having had a heart attack. I AM AN AWKWARD PERSON, GUYS. Dean makes me feel better.

It’s also an attempt to avoid admitting that in retrospect I am the stupidest human alive and I could have been dying but I didn’t want to “bother” anyone. I’m really damn disappointed in myself.

I spent Friday at the ER being pumped full of every medicine ever invented (felt like.) and the rest of the weekend on bed rest with Marvel’s movie lineup keeping me company. They said the damage to my heart would be very minimal at worst. (Will confirm this with billions of tests in coming days.)

Now. I’m alive. My heart is working well, if not as well as I’d like, well enough. I will be absolutely fine. I have a million doctor visits in my future. All the steps are being covered. This was indeed a very mild thing as far as heart attacks go. I have a moment of lucidity from the hospital in which I recall freaking out over the term “heart attack” and a nurse gave me what I think was kindness mixed with “I’ve seen actually dying people in here, woman up!” when she said. “This isn’t bad at all. You could call it an episode if it makes you feel better.”

Strangely…it hasn’t. I’m still testing the theory, though.

I feel it’s important to note that this wasn’t because I had an unhealthy heart. I have a few heart issues, but physically, my heart is a champ. I’ve had ultrasounds and other tests done regularly for years. This was a freak accident caused by a medication that didn’t agree with me.

An eerie bit of sheer luck: At the exact moment I took the second migraine pill, I’d also popped a heart pill I don’t normally take at night that slows down and helps regulate pulse. I was told that was a bizarre help when shit got real and I didn’t know it. It just took longer to take effect than the migraine pill did. *fist-bumps guardian angel*

In the aftermath of it all, I’m feeling…odd. My heart keeps skipping and my chest aches and every time I even sort of feel a headache coming on I have an actual panic attack which I worry considerably is an actual heart attack.

What I didn’t expect was how awkward it’s been making me feel. Normally, when something goes down in my world, I’m all, “To the Twitter!” I’m an extrovert. I experience life by sharing it with other people.

But this was like, terrifying. Too terrifying to Tweet.

Although I am discovering that I did reply to a few texts and emails whilst highly medicated and have no memory of these whatsoever.

At some point during my hospitalization, I decided I didn’t want to worry anyone with the pesky words “heart attack” and decided to just say it was migraine issues. Which I think my drug-addled mind considered the truth, so totally okay.

Let’s just say that when my husband and I were discussing these things on Saturday he said the words, “Wait, so it was an actual heart attack?” Me: “I…didn’t mention that yesterday?”

I suck, guys. I know. But I was scared! I’m rarely truly freaked to my core. I didn’t like the idea of scaring the crap out of everyone else.

I even tried to say something about it on Facebook but panicked and took the post down after about half an hour.

It’s unnerving for me to feel that uncomfortable with something. I like that I’m an open book.

But over my bed resting weekend, I realized the topic was going to come up one way or another. And plus I’ve already moved on to making inappropriate jokes about the situation, so I figure it’s best to just get it out there now. Also that the reality of my awkwardness comes almost certainly from admitting publicly that I acted like an actual idiot during a very serious situation.

So, this is me ripping that bandaid off.

What have I learned from this experience?

*slams head into wall*

You know. A few things.

Mostly that if I’d seen this sort of thing going down even a little bit with literally anyone else on the planet, I would have duct taped them and dragged them to an ER toot-suite.

Why duct tape? I dunno. Sounds fun.

I don’t know why I am such a worrywart towards other people but can rationalize away basically anything that happens to me as “a bother” but that has become a glaring character flaw over the last few days. I am legitimately mortified by my own ridiculousness.

I would much rather be dragged out of bed at midnight by a friend in need than hearing later they had a heart attack because they don’t like inconveniencing people.

I’m mentally punching myself directly in the face, you guys. Repeatedly.

So. That’s what’s up.

Again, I am okay. Really, okay.

And if I owe you an email or other correspondence and I’m behind? Well…I’m absolutely milking the HEART ATTACK thing hoping it will buy me a bit of patience.

See? Inappropriate. Can’t take me anywhere.

I’ve officially become Chandler Bing.

I hope you all are having wonderful weeks full of healthily beating hearts!

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Calling 911 Like a Grown-Up

 

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