Friday, November 20, 2009

I was supposed to go out with C last night, kareoke at some dive bar.

But my heart knocked me down for the evening.

Leaning against her kitchen counter, trembling, drinking the liter of milk I purchased that is, for some reason, supposed to help.

Chest pains have become a daily occurence.

Trembling, soft body shaking, yes, I know you.

Malnutrition, exhaustion, too much coffee. I'm lining up for a trip to the hospital.

I could go to the doctor again, but that will involve time that I should not take off work, and the best he can do at this moment is give me drugs that have more side effects than benefits, unless, for some reason, surgery is needed.

I remember New Orleans. Sampling coffee at every place I could find, the heat and humidity weighing on my shoulders, up early every day, exploring the city, out way past midnight in the French Quarter, finally having it catch up with me in some well known bar that I can't remember the name of. They all end up sounding the same.

The pain. Finding an air conditioner vent and leaning my face against it, letting my body rest against the wall, shaking violently, tears streaming down my face, trying not to panic over what my body was doing, counting the seconds between inhales and exhales, trying to slow it down.

My boyfriend being furious because I cut his evening short with my medical problem.

Holding it against me for months and months after.

Spending the next 24 hours unconscious in bed, and the rest of the trip exhausted, weak, and trembling. Starting on a several mile spleunking trip and realizing that if I had another attack, I would not be able to get out of the cave and to a hospital in time... then waiting outside for the hours the rest of the party spent underground.

I know I shouldn't push myself.

I know that I should cut back the caffiene and let my body do what it must do: be tired, tired enough that I take naps at my desk and I go to bed by 8 while it recooperates.

Two more months.

I have to make it two more months.

And then I'll be able to have a regular life again.


  1. what the hell is this all about? is a day or so or sick time from the office more important that your health? what does the two months mean? sheesh, doll. think. take care of yourself.

  2. I thought I mentioned I had a heart condition (okay, two) before? Scarlet Fever when I was two did some physical damage to my heart.

    Two months, I'll be starting school full-time, quitting my job, focusing on writing. No longer couch-surfing. Life.