This morning was supposed to be simple.
Follow-up appointment. Get told to drink more water, maybe mention that I lost another pound or 3, pretend I’ll actually remember to reduce my stress, and head to work.
Instead, my doctor looked at my heart activity, frowned in that way doctors do when they suddenly stop making small talk, and calmly informed me I was going to the emergency room.
Cool. Cool cool cool.
The first challenge? Finding somewhere to park.
Apparently everyone in the county had the exact same brilliant idea today because the ER parking lot was packed. I pulled up to valet, something I never use, and the poor guy sitting outside in the Florida heat started apologizing before I even rolled the window down.
“There isn’t anywhere for me to park your truck.”
And that’s when I almost lost it.
Not because of the parking. Because sometimes it only takes one more tiny inconvenience when you’re already carrying too much.
He looked at me for about two seconds, saw I was trying really hard not to cry, and without another word said he was moving his own car so he could put my truck in his parking spot.
Then he walked me all the way inside.
That man will probably never know how much that simple act of kindness meant to me.
The VIP treatment ended immediately after that.
Three hours in the waiting room.
Eventually a hospital bed.
Needle in my arm.
Heart monitor beeping every few seconds like it’s trying to write its own soundtrack.
Chest still hurting.
Still waiting on results.
Still wondering what exactly my body is trying to tell me.
The timing feels especially cruel.
It’s Wednesday.
I have students and coworkers depending on me.
I have a house that still needs tending.
Fish and fry that needed feeding instructions so detailed I think my son could qualify as an aquarium technician by the time I get home.
And most importantly…
I have a sweet dog spending her final week on Earth.
I don’t want to be under fluorescent hospital lights wondering what comes next.
I want to be at home.
I want Blitz curled up beside me.
I want one more ordinary evening that I didn’t realize would someday feel extraordinary.
Life has a funny way of reminding you that your plans are really just polite suggestions.
So for now, I’m waiting.
Waiting for lab results.
Waiting for answers.
Waiting to find out whether my heart is simply being dramatic… or whether it has finally decided to file a formal complaint against the rest of my body.
And because my readers have learned to expect a certain level of professionalism from me…
Yes.
The attached photo accurately represents my feelings regarding today’s itinerary.
🖕📖
Stephen King in my lap.
Cute yellow reading glasses.
Heart monitor doing its thing.
Middle finger fully operational.
Some days that’s about all you’ve got left.
If you’re the praying kind, I’d appreciate it today.
If you’re not, send good thoughts anyway.
Either way, I’m hoping the next update is from my own bed… with Blitz snoring beside me.
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