Bloody Lymey

A Blog About Living with Lyme Disease

If I Could Have My Life Back …..

This post isn’t what you think, I’ll bet. If I read that title, I would think it’s a whiny post about living life like normal people or maybe some kind of self-pitying thing. It’s not. I assure you.

With the doctor discussing Sjogren’s Syndrome, I started reading. Like MAD. I’ve pored over websites, trying to gain a better understanding – not just a broad overview of the common symptoms, but the subtler ones. I wanted to find a consensus about the prognosis and what to expect if it progresses and can the progression be arrested?

Reminds me of the olden days.

They talked about MS. I spent hours reading about MS with the similar frame of mind I am in right now – well, maybe a bit more frantic. That one scared me more than the others.

Then they said the L word. No, not Lyme. Not yet. LUPUS. And I read and I read and I read.

Then they talked about RA. In fact? They treated me for it! They thought I might be among some random number of folks who falsely test negative. I didn’t respond to treatment, but I did read. Oh, I read about RA. And I read about people who falsely test negative. And I read about people who falsely test negative and don’t respond to steroids …. just to scare myself more because I’m always sure that I’m one of those rare-bies. πŸ™‚

THENNNNN they talked about Fibromyalgia. And I don’t know why that dink didn’t do the test right there – I was outraged when I got a smarter doctor who touched a bunch of pressure points, saw me not flinching, and said I don’t have it. But when bubble-head “talked” about it incessantly, I read about it incessantly.

The list goes on and on and on.

If I could have my life back – those wee hours of the morning, those late nights – I could take a 2-week vacation (and that would count the time spent sleeping, too). Why do I do this to myself?

Well? It’s to have some notion of having control over something which I have NO control. I can’t control whether or not I have Sjogren’s. It’s good to read about these things – oh yes indeed!!! But moderation is the key. There’s a point where you’ve read all the realistic and credible stuff and then …. it’s folks selling snake oil at quasi-reputable places like “Vitamin World” (made up the name – insert the name of what ever is at your local mall , etc.). Then there’s people who say that they have been cured by a tarantula bite ………. or by contracting and then being treated for malaria. Or insert some other outlandish thing.

I need to just stop. It doesn’t matter. Knowledge IS power, but there’s a limit to that power and reading and reading and reading isn’t going to make me more powerful. This shit I have – Lyme, Chronic Lyme, Late Stage Lyme, Post Lyme Syndrome and the autoimmune things my body wants to throw in the stew – is here whether I read about it or not. Do I REALLY want it to take even more of my life away, reading away on a computer monitor?

I’m going to go cuddle with my HONEY. Good night.


The Stress is on Having No Stress!

So I’m out of that situation that caused me such stress. I can’t say much about it (even though I’m nearly bursting to), but I’ve never felt so free, so okay, so peaceful and content and ….

I had zero lyme symptoms today. Not a note of fatigue. No aches in the knees. No nerve pain.

I had almost zero anxiety symptoms. My heart fluttered while I was on the phone with someone who is taking control of the situation for me and needs every gory detail. After getting off the phone, I had diarrhea. I was stunned that just talking about it effected me so adversely. But? I’m out of the situation.

Now – I’ve been writing about all of these things and suspected that this would happen once the toxicity was out of my life. One toxic person infected many. I think God forgives naivetΓ© and people who aren’t as educated and ignorance. I hope God steers these easily led and easily misled people away from this toxic mastermind.

But …. there are other positive outcomes. I’m a better mom. I’m a better girlfriend. I’m a better daughter. I’m a better friend. That stress was like being in very deep water and my way of coming up for air was isolating. I needed time to myself and it was a bottomless cup to fill. I’m more present. I’m more engaged in today.

I’m not looking at the clock and wishing it was 5. I’m not looking at the calendar and wishing it was Friday. I’m not spending Sunday afternoons terrorized over “tomorrow.” I’m not wishing my life away! WHAT a gift! πŸ™‚

The heaviness of that burden I was carrying (and this toxic person wanted me to do unfair things to other people and I felt sick at night) has lifted. I’m featherweight. Come here and blow me over with a whisper. πŸ™‚

This is delightful. I had some idea the impact this was having on my body (you can’t wear a heart monitor and shrug it off), but I had NO idea how bad it was. None. Toxic.

And I’ve been delivered from that. It’s over. She’s out of my life for good and I can’t put into words how grateful I am.

I’m also grateful I’m not her. I’ve been inundated with phone calls today and the injustice of it all reflects badly on her and not at all badly on me.

I’m SO grateful I’m not her. I’m so grateful for this deliverance. I could jump up and down. And you know what? I CAN. My knees don’t hurt today! πŸ™‚

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Bringin’ on the Heartache …

The doctor finally got back to me. It’s anxiety, pure and simple. She says that the Holter monitor didn’t detect anything irregular, but she believes believes believes me when I say I’m feeling things.

I went this long weekend without any racing, fluttering, stuttering or skipping. This morning one of the first emails I read stressed me out considerably. It seemed accusing. It was CC’ed to many. Its tone sounded accusing and it appeared in a rather public venue. My heart raced and I experienced a strange sensation something akin to sweating but it was inside and not out. My reaction/response/reply wasn’t terrible but it probably wasn’t the best. I wish I could do it again, but with the way I felt at the time I’m astonished that my response was as close to good as it was.

There it was again. Racing heart and feeling like I could die for a second. It went away. Thank God. The racing was replaced with an achey feeling in my chest. Then the stuttery flutters returned intermittently throughout the day. I can’t live like this.

After work, my boyfriend had bad news about a friend who is more like a family member than a friend. It hurt to see him hurt. It hurt to feel helpless and not be able to do more than hug him and tell him I’ll do ANYTHING to help and really mean it. My wanting to help has a peculiar urgency to it. I wish he’d ask me to defrost his freezer or mow his lawn or do some little stupid ANYTHING so I can feel like I’m doing something …. when there’s nothing I can do.

I went to my AA meeting and discussed my stress. I discussed how my defects of character pop up when I’m scared and how hard they are to let go of when I feel so foolishly protected by them.

The discussion centered on step 6 – “Were entirely ready to have God remove these defects of character.” I discussed how in having time in the program, my world view changed and I became more trusting. The better I got, the better the world looked. Trust was built. Little by little, I didn’t “need” many of my defects of character to protect me. I didn’t “need” to lie to save my ass or to make people like me better. I didn’t “need” to lash out at people out of fear of their attacks, attacks that might never come. I didn’t need to do a lot of things.

That “willingness” was created, growing just a little bit at a time. It grew as slowly as hair. You can look in the mirror day after day and look the same as “yesterday.” But in a year? Your hair is an inch longer? Three inches longer? It’s noticeable, whatever the numeric is.

And here I am. Here I am, trusting the world a lot less. One lady likened her character defects to porcupine quills and how they stand at attention, ready to prick when she’s scared. I’m feeling very “sharp” right now myself.

But if I get too “sharp” then the people who seem to be setting me up for failure will have succeeded. I will become the person they say I am.

I have to keep being me. I have to keep being true to myself and keep plugging on. I need to respect myself in the end. And in the beginning and in the middle.

They say that the worst punishment for the liar is not that people don’t believe him, but that he doesn’t believe other people. Because I was such an angry person who did angry things, I saw the world as being like that. I would retaliate against things that hadn’t even been done to me … yet. Today I wouldn’t end that sentence with the word “yet.” Back then I would.

As I became better in AA, I started to see the world as more positive, more helpful, more compassionate … more of the things I was becoming.

I can say that it’s been probably a decade since I felt like I had an enemy – with the exception of myself at times. Now I feel like I do, like there is someone that really intends to harm me. This has me being hypervigilant and scared and sticking up my quills. I have to remember that one or two people are not the whole world. I also have to remember that the world hasn’t changed. I was just naive in thinking that being a good person would mean the world would always treat me fairly. There’s an expression that goes: “thinking the world will always treat you fairly because you’re a good person is like thinking a bull won’t come after you because you’re a vegetarian.”

And so it is. I have to retract the quills. I have to go out in the world and be a lady of grace and dignity and accept what ever comes my way. Even if it makes my heart flutter uncomfortably. Even if it makes my body tense up. Even if it creates tension headaches. AND I need to ask for help. AND I need to pray more.

My heart experienced many sensations today from the stressful flutters to the heaviness that comes from loving someone and feeling their pain to another sensation this evening:

My brother died on St. Patrick’s Day 2009. He was 24 and seemingly in good health. It was unexpected. I miss him terribly and sometimes I could cry like a 2-year old having a tantrum out of wanting to talk to him RIGHT now. Sometimes I see his picture or think of something he said or I’ll see his posture and smile in a guy of similar build and of similar age – and then this unspeakably achey feeling creeps into my heart and guts and soul. That achey feeling is steady and solid and heavy.

Tonight I picked my son up from my mom after the AA meeting. She had a plastic grocery bag full of papers and pictures. I thumbed through them with dim enthusiasm – some old half-assed pictures from my college level b&w photography classs – some badly written poems coming from the standpoint of teenaged angst ….. a diary from 8th grade.

Then …. there it was. A piece of paper blanketed in opaque wax paper, a “moth” of brittle flower petals glued in between. I smiled and the tears came. The paper trembled in my shaking hands. The “moth” was crafted by my then 5-year old brother. In its heyday it was a vibrant pink butterfly with green grassy antennae.

The grief felt like a physical entity sitting on my chest. My heart pounded slowly and steadily but assertively. I could almost hear it in my head. I stared at the moth, my tears blurring it. I smiled stupidly at it.

Then there were the group photos of the “kids” when they were little. My sisters and brother were quite younger than me and they have the same parents while they and I only share the same father (I detest the term “half-sibling.” It’s not half the love. And it’s not half a person. I envision a set of legs or a torso when I hear the words “half-sister” or “half-brother”).

My heart felt like it was on a fast-moving dumb waiter, sinking fast and rising quickly. Seeing pictures of my brother when he was little seem to sting me more piercingly than the more “recent” photos. Fragmented memories raced through my head, repeatedly replaced by new ones. None would stick. I stared at the moth. I think he gave it to me at his grandparents’ house. In the greenhouse. Where it was warm and full of life. Green life. Warm and full of life. Like his eyes.

At this very moment, my heart feels “normal.” Meaning it doesn’t feel like anything. It beats consistently, dependably, constantly. I don’t feel a thing. Or maybe I do, but I’m so used to the rhythmn that I take it for granted and therefore “don’t” feel it. But this nothingness, this nada, this niente feels good. It feels right.

What a day.

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Long Weekend ….

I have been blessed with a 3-day weekend this week. I had a hiccup with sleeping a lot on Saturday – I slept past noon. And I fell asleep before midnight, so that was a good 12-hour run of sleep.

Not sure if it’s a lyme-related setback or if it’s in the wake of a stressful work week including a day where I got 3-hours of sleep (that night my son had been up until 2, coughing and I’m on call and they called at 5AM and I had to go in and cover at 7:30AM and work until 5PM and blah-blah-blah).

Lack of sleep sometimes invites trouble with my lyme symptoms. [ahem]. Excuse me. POST Lyme Syndrome symptoms. That’s what they’re calling it now, the “it” being where I am today.

Last night I fell asleep at about 11 and today I woke up at 8. This is good. Until I fell back to sleep and slept until nearly 11. I can’t stand it. It feels like such a waste of a day.

I’ve been taking my medications faithfully (thyroid meds, zoloft for muscle fatigue and exhaustion, and low dose naltrexone to improve my immune system and suppress the auto immune stuff that gets me in trouble).

I still haven’t heard back from the doctor about the heart monitor and any findings. I’ve left a message. This weekend, my heart has been good. Friday night there was a brief stressor (work related, of course…. it seems like all heart issues whether legitimate or stress-related are all work related) that made my heart pound greatly for a second or two.

Aside from that, it’s been a good weekend for my heart.

I’m not discouraged, though. I’ve had a great weekend that included spending time with my son and my boyfriend and my boyfriend’s grandchildren. We had a fire and the grandchildren did smores for the first time. It may have even been the 2-year old granddaughter’s first fire or experience roasting marshmallows.

We had a water slide/sprinkler thingy yesterday and a huge squirtgun battle. There was a lot of laughter and sunshine and memorable moments. I also got some phenomenal photos.

As long as I walk away from this weekend with good memories instead of fixating on the sleepiness, it will be a good thing. My own way of looking at things seems to determine how “okay” I am. Negativity makes my life substantially worse.

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A New Kind of Day…

For 2+ weeks, I’ve been having heart palpitations. It seemed to have been triggered by a traumatizing incident at work, but maybe it was incidental? Maybe it’s stress or maybe it’s A-fib?

Today is the first day that my heart didn’t flutter, skip, palpitate, thump or punch my ribcage. It felt good. I felt a little bit of anxious angst, but it wasn’t overwhelming.

Saturday it only did it a couple of times and then Sunday was business as usual. Saturday …. I went with my boyfriend to meet his new grandbaby. I can’t think of much else that is more calming and relaxing than holding a sleeping newborn. Second to this is riding in my boyfriend’s convertible with the top down; we did this on the way home on that warm and sunny day. Then the rain came. On the highway where there was no shoulder. Myth Busters was right; if you keep driving, the rain goes OVER the topless part of the convertible. πŸ™‚ We pulled over and got drenched. I laughed. I haven’t laughed like that in eons, it seems. Third relaxing thing? Taking my son to the lake. He frolics in the water and I can sit there and listen to the birds and watch the sun dip goldenly beyond the darkening Berkshire Hills. I did all of that on Saturday and my body was rewarded handsomely. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? Doing something relaxing?

Shoot! I still have to call the doctor and see what, if anything, came of the Holter Monitor. They haven’t called. People have told me it could be a week.

On top of this, I don’t feel lymey. I’m not tired. It rained today and my knees didn’t forecast it. No headache. No muscle fatigue. No nerve pain (ohhhh, thank God for that). It’s all good.

I found a small deer tick crawling on my arm this afternoon. A black speck in motion in my peripheral vision caught my attention. I crushed him violently between my figernails, grinding them back and forth. He hadn’t burrowed in. What luck. I do, however, still have Ceftin and my specialist says if I ever find a tick in me, to take two of them right away.

I saw my boyfriend briefly and got a phenomenal hug. My son is kind of sick so he’s on the couch, mellowing. The sun is out. The rain is drying.

What a gift today is.

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Did I Leave MY Heart in San Francisco?

I feel like I have someone else’s rattly heart.

Yesterday I had the Holter Monitor taken off at the doctor’s. As the medical assistant ripped the adhesive thingies off, I joked about being glad I’m not a guy with a hairy chest and asked if they offered free waxes to such people to make it look “even.” The lady laughed and explained that they shave them before sticking the things on.

I left. I felt tense at work prior to this, but nothing major. I went to a meeting and it went well, pretty laid back. On the way back to my work site, I was at a red light at a busy intersection when my heart fluttered a few times and I started seeing black dots. I was so scared I was going to faint. I looked around for a place to safely pull over. If I chose to take a right, there’s no shoulder or parking lots or anything “safe” for a while. In fact, the journey to the right would have led up a steep hill that leads to a busier intersection with less visibility.

I kept my hand ready to shift it into park. My hand lingered near the shifter with the same salivating urgency that a game-show contestant does with their buzzer.

The light turned green. I slowly eased into the intersection and took a left and an immediate right into a parking lot. The car came safely to a stop and I slid it into park. My head felt at once racing and woozy. I stared at the pale pink hairdresser’s building before me and tried to figure out what to do. Do I call an ambulance?

With my cell phone in my hand, I stared at the building. I couldn’t make a decision. I continued to stare, straining to stay present. The severity of the dizziness eased and I didn’t feel any more like I was struggling to stay conscious. I called my coworker. She said she was on her way and promptly called me from her cell and talked to me until she arrived.

My boyfriend’s was nearby and I have a key so she drove me in my car there, sat with me to make sure I didn’t need the ER and then walked back to her vehicle in the parking lot.

I don’t know what I would have done without her. On the way to my boyfriend’s, she spoke calmly to me and asked me what I was feeling and tried to ascertain what may have triggered it. I don’t remember thinking about anything in particular before it happened. I started to cry. I bit my lip and swiped at my eyes. I felt out of control. Again.

I laid on my boyfriend’s couch and watched TV. Daytime TV isn’t what I’m into, but it would “do.” I thought eating might help and I helped myself to his pretzels. I couldn’t stand long enough to do preparations more than opening a bag and dumping it into a plastic cup.

I laid back on the couch. I didn’t smoke. It was too scary (and that’s saying a LOT). I fell asleep at probably two and slept deeply until 5. For the rest of the evening I felt a strange mix of grogginess and excitement (and not in the good way – just jolts of energy and my heart fluttering).

At about 10PM, I started to feel almost okay. Not perfect. Just like there was some hope for me.

This morning, someone called in sick and they called me at like 6AM to see what could be done. I called my coworker to see if she’d be there to relieve the overnight staff and she said yes. She asked how I was feeling.

“I don’t know,” came my embarrassing and honest answer.

I thought about it and decided to stay home. I feel better than I did yesterday, but I still feel a little anxious and my heart is still fluttering. I can’t slip now after all the footing I’ve made since yesterday just before noon. And that seems like it’s so long ago. I’m terrified that going to work will unravel all of my progress.

My son has a Toy Story blanket. It’s like microfiber flannel, warm and soft, stuffed with stuffing for more warmth. I feel safe in that blanket on the couch with the built-in recliner extended. I think I’ll go to my safe place now and watch TV.

As far as stressors, I’m fairly calm and accepting of it emotionally and intellectually. It’s like my body is rebelling at this. I don’t know why it won’t get on the same “page” as my mind and spirit.

Two years ago, my brother passed away and that is the worst stress I’ve ever endured. I cried a lot and I was overwhelmed with sadness. In fact, the grief felt like a weighty entity that sat on my chest. But I could function.

Just prior to being treated for lyme disease, it was going for my heart. Those unforgiving pounding fists in my chest felt like they were annihilating me from within. I thought I was going to die. I actually spoke to my son’s grandparents about ….. about ….. “taking” him …. “taking him” and “if…..” I hate to admit how much I meant it. The difference was that I felt half dead. More than half dead. My energy level was nill. My blood pressure was low. I felt listless most of the time and therefore didn’t care about it the way I do today.

I lived with uncertainty about my health. Prior to a diagnosis of lyme disease, they were talking about MS, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Lupus and myriad other scary things that are far less treatable. I was scared then. DAMN scared. I am also a single parent and when that was happening, my son was like 3. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to take care of him. I was scared that it might lead to death – what ever “it” was. The stress was severe. But my body didn’t respond to it like this.

What gives?

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Thump. Thump. Thumpthumpthump.

Sooooo. Today I’m wearing a heart monitor, which I can’t help but find disconcerting. Dr. C. doesn’t think it’s the meds because side-effects would have presented in the first two weeks and now it’s over a month.

My baseline blood pressure is low. Wicked low. Today it was “normal.” so is it elevated because it’s higher than my baseline? Or is it good that it’s “normal?”

We discussed the onset and ongoing stressors. She thinks it may be good that I was on Zoloft to alleviate the lyme-related fatigue because she thinks I may have had more “resolve” to deal with it. This is good news and I’m glad she helped me look at it more positively.

I changed into a johnny and lay down. The assistant stuck a bunch of doo-hookies to me and I had an EKG. After this, she stuck more things to me and attached a box to me. I keep kidding around that I’m an informant and am trying to get people to talk about drugs. I’m “wired.” I kid around about talking to my boyfriend and hearing his voice and maybe I should push the “event” button since he makes my heart all fluttery.

But these are my hiding places. I’m scared. And when I’m scared, I hide behind humor. This makes me appear “okay” with what ever is happening.

There’s nothing to be scared of, I don’t think. I said to the doctor, “I won’t just ‘come down’ with a heart condition because of these stressful incidents, will I?” She agreed it was unlikely and that the heart monitor is to rule things out.

I have a log to record my “events.” Today I was blown away by how many “events” there were. She told me to record anything unusual. I haven’t had the heart-pounding incidents that make me think an ambulance may be in order. But there have been 14 recorded incidents of “fluttering.” Like my heart has upped the rythmn a little and like it sang out of tune. There were a couple of dizzy spells, too. And there was chest discomfort. I’m glad the log uses “discomfort.” I may have dismissed some things that didn’t seem painful enough to be considered “chest pain.”

Half of these 14 recorded incidents took place inside of one hour. Interestingly.

I hope they figure this out. I just want to be normal. Normal. What is that, anyway?


Spring Ahead, Fall Behind

This spring things are better in some ways, worse in others.

The Zoloft made a difference. No one was more surprised than I. I was less tired. My arms felt lighter. I wasn’t dragging my feet. Walking my son to school (4 minutes there, 2-3 minutes back …. yeah, my son stops and picks “blow flowers” and rescues worms from puddles, etc. Takes longer on the way!) wasn’t such a grueling task. I wasn’t falling asleep on the couch. I felt alive. Alive! Even my sex life was more lively.

For a couple of weeks I felt like I was on top of the world.

Tomorrow I see the doctor. Now my ticker is ticking pretty hard. Something happened (and if it was entirely my story to tell, I’d tell you … but, alas, it’s not) that caused me a lot of stress and continues to do so. The first day, my heart pounded hard and fast, and I felt nauseated. I laid down on the couch, which was effective. The fetal position more so.

These episodes have been coming and going. One such episode included severe heartburn. I never get heartburn!!! It lasted for a tormenting 30 minutes. I’ve had episodes with crushing chest pain. One instance made my left arm feel flooded with warm water; it was a peculiar sensation.

I don’t know what to make of this. I’m not ready to part with some worldly comforts such as coffee and nicotine, but fear that’s on the table (and it ought to be). I’m scared the doctor will suggest I remove myself from the stress. It’s at work. I’m scared of a lot of things.

My mom insists I should be going to the ER when this happens. It feels like going to the ER is confronting the fact that there’s a problem. Staying home and not going to the ER indicates there is no problem. I guess it’s a manifestation of my denial.

When I first started having symptoms of lyme disease, I was pretty steeped in denial. My mother had to take a picture of me and show me what I looked like. The best description would be “gray.” From my complexion to my very aura, I was gray.

Right now there isn’t anything different to see in pictures. My coloring is good. My smile may be more feigned, but it’s the same. Is it heart disease? Is it just the stress? Is it just panic attacks? Just thinking about it scares me.

I’m scared to be alone with my son. What if this happens again except it’s worse? I live alone with him. I’m making a list of phone numbers for the refrigerator. He knows my boyfriend’s landline by heart, so that’s a start. Hopefully he can use the phone. He knows how to use 911. I have to just trust the process and that what ever will be will be.

On the other hand, going to the hospital when it’s a smaller deal would be wiser. My coworker said that “brake pads don’t cost too much. Rotors cost more. At some point, you have to buy a new car. You can’t buy a new body.” She’s right.

It’s nerve-racking that other people are thinking that big about it, too.

Panic attacks. I would like to think this is what it is, but I’m such a calm person by nature. I have skills from AA in acceptance. I’m not so phobic of not having control. To me, panic attacks are the absolute loss of control and being fearful of it which compounds the panic attacks which doubles the fear of loss of control. Or maybe that’s not so simple.

Heart attacks. Is this even possible? I’m under 40. Not by MUCH, but I am. I’m 39 1/2. I could stand to lose a couple of pounds or ten. Yeah. Ten. I’m out of shape from this damned lyme disease. My blood pressure was uber low for years and may simply be returning to normal.

Maybe I’m drawn to the options with the words “attack” attached. Maybe there’s some symbolism there. I want to think the combination of meds may have kicked my thyroid up. I want to think that when the stress wanes, so will these unbearable and terrifying symptoms.

I guess I’ll have to wait and see. Lyme disease has done so much to me. It seems like a pat answer to think this fits in somehow.

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Stress & Symptoms …


I saw my doctor recently and she added Zoloft to the mix for exhaustion and muscle fatigue – I should add here that while I am on an antidepressant, I am not depressed. She asked if moving around and exercised helped or hurt the fatigue and I said it made it entirely worse.

I saw Dr. H, the infectious disease specialist and she supports this approach, adding I look verrrrry good.

However, I had a stressor at work. It was fairly epic and I wish I could get into it, but I can’t. It’s not entirely my story to tell.

Not long after it first happened, my heart started racing and I felt like I was going to throw up. Laying down helped. Curling my legs up helped more. I laid there and got suddenly tired (even though prior I had felt extremely energetic), sleeping soundly for some hours.

This erratic heartbeat has been coming and going; sometimes I have to put my head on my desk at work and try to calm down. When it happens, I feel like I’m sweating inside. It’s a peculiar sensation and it’s scary.

My mom, a former nurse of some decades, thinks I should go to the ER. I can’t seem to shake the feeling that it may be a panic attack, but since I have no real history of them and am by nature a fairly calm person she disagrees. The other thing is that I have ONLY had heartburn when I was very pregnant and had a horrible 1/2-hour case of it last week. It hurt my chest the most.

Mom fears it may be a heart issue. I think it’s stress-related and that when (and if) the stress ever eases things will be better.

I see Dr. C. on Wednesday. I guess she’ll be the coin flip.

Today I slept until 1PM. If I had my son, that never would have happened of course. What a waste of a day. It doesn’t feel lymey, though. It feels more like an escapist behavior, like I’m intentionally avoiding waking up and thinking about work. It seems to be my first waking thought as well as my last for the day. I get home from work and feel super exhausted. I think I’ve fallen asleep early on the couch every night this week.

I keep googling heart things and atrial fibrallation seems to have tiredness attached to it. The heartburn seems to have “heart attack” attached to it.

I’m hoping maybe this is a surge in my thyroid. That’s easy to correct. However, I don’t have that restless feeling like I can’t sit still or I’m itchy to do something.

Of course, maybe I’m making too much of this. I need to just keep my thoughts pure until I see the doctor.

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