So, yeah–this has been a crazy, fucked-up week, both personally and in the larger scheme of things. So much focus has been about mortality–my own and that of my loved ones. And I hate thinking about anything that involves harm to the people I love.
Last Monday, I had a big test on my heart–and I was lucky enough not to have to go through it alone. I am eternally grateful for for that and for the person who kept me company and kept me sane. It was above and beyond. Mad, mad respect.
Waiting for the results was torture. Everything came out normal, so that was a huge relief. Not that anyone would even know that I am sick unless I told them. I don’t seem sick–and that makes dealing with my heart stuff so much harder–hell, most days, I can even fool myself.
The biggest restriction that I have b/c of my heart is that I’m not supposed to lift anything heavier than 10 lbs–and that’s not even remotely possible. I hate asking anyone for help, so I pretty much do my own lifting–and will likely continue to do so. I know that that sounds childish, but there is just something about not wanting to be dependent that drives me to ignore my Dr. when it comes to this restriction. It’s bad enough that I have to ask strangers in grocery stores to get things off of the higher shelves for me when scaling them isn’t an option (the shelves, not the strangers, although I could probably make that happen with the strangers if I was so inclined)–I refuse to make someone else carry all of my stuff too. Yeah, no.
For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about–I found out on Valentine’s Day 2014 that my heart is extremely compromised–about 65% of my left ventricle is black (that’s what my Dr. said, and it was confirmed by the tech who did my echocardiogram)–and they don’t know if that is dead tissue or if it can heal. It’s becoming more likely that it’s the former, given that it isn’t really healing at all. They believe it to be (their best guess is) a birth defect that was exacerbated by long-term, extremely high BP (likely caused, in part, by the heart defect and by genetics–a vicious circle). How do I know? I’ve been checked for EVERYTHING and there is no good explanation for why I have high BP other than the reasons given above.
Strangely, this should have been caught somewhere around 1998 or 1999. My then-Dr. noticed that there was something wrong with the sounds that my heart made and sent me for an echocardiogram–but the tech doing the test was sobbing the entire time (she was going through a very recent breakup–like, right before my appointment), and it was basically useless–she never even finished the test. I never followed up and went for the do-over one. I was far too busy building my practice and attempting to keep my sanity (Adolf never let me be out of contact with him for more than an hour at a time–this included multiple calls to my cell while I was in court, in client meetings, doing jail visits, etc.).
The strange sounds were noticed again during a pre-employment physical, along with elevated blood pressure, but by then, I was too busy and too afraid to go in and be checked out more thoroughly. I know, I know–that’s abject stupidity–but, in my defense, I was hiding the daily abuse that I was living with and you really don’t think very well when your main focus is just getting through each day without a huge blowup. The high BP was explained away by the Adderall that I was taking for ADHD. If I knew then what I know now, I would have known that high BP ran in both sides of my family very strongly, including in my parents. I would have also known that my maternal grandfather had his first heart attack at 34–and that heart problems are what made him disabled at a relatively young age. Heart problems (which led to a fatal stroke) also killed my paternal grandfather at age 50.
So, there you have it. That’s the thumbnail version of what my damage is–well, the heart part anyway. My life exists in two parts–before and after. There is so much more to it, but I can say that having my heart stop for that very short time that it did changed me in a lot of ways–some that I have yet to discover, I’m sure. But, I’m still me–and I love being me. xo
ealvfargond 