What all of this is REALLY about

About a year ago, I walked into a cardiology clinic, not sure what they would tell me after that first appointment. I was scared. My life was so full; what if this doctor gave me a diagnosis, and told me I would soon lose it all? See, for a handful of months prior to that visit, I was having wretched chest pains that started out once per week and ended up happening almost daily--what I would imagine a heart attack feels like. It would happen in episodes that lasted anywhere from one hour to all day, and varied upon time of day. The pain was accompanied by irregular and fluttering heartbeat, nausea, pain in my left arm, and headaches. I would HAVE to stop what I was doing and lie down, or it would get worse and take my breath away. SOUNDS JUST LIKE A HEART ATTACK, RIGHT?? BUT, I was only 27...!!! That wasn't likely. Right?! After probably about 3 months of this progressively getting worse, I visited my GP (who--for a mainstream doctor--I actually really liked), where they performed an EKG that came back "irregular". She then referred me to a cardiologist, hence the aforementioned appointment.

I remember walking in, and asking the older gentleman at the front reception desk where cardiology was located. He informed me, suggested that I looked awfully young to be going there, and asked if everything was alright. I muttered, "I hope so," and gave him a pursed-lipped smile as my eyes began to well up. On the way up to my floor, memories and thoughts popped into my brain--the kind that make your heart so full it aches. I thought about my kids, and how much they love and need their mommy (and how unavailable I had been for months); how they looked when I first met and held them. I thought about Dane and how he is my person and the love of my life; and I worried we wouldn't be able to grow all that old together; I wondered how he would do alone, trying to raise the kids by himself, or what he would do for childcare/work. I thought about my kids growing up; how healthy they were, how perfect, what they would turn out to "be"... I even thought about my childhood--my mom and sisters, playing outside until dark, and that carefree innocence and curiosity about absolutely everything in life; that feeling that anything is possible. YES, ALL of these thoughts fluttered about in my mind during that short walk and elevator ride. I was just SO THANKFUL for the life I had. I didn't even care so much about "leaving my mark"; I just didn't want to lose all of that sooner than I was (or they were) ready to.

In general, I often thought about death around that time. I thought I very well may be dying (sounds dramatic, but true). I wanted to make sure Dane and the kids would be okay. I often asked Dane how he would handle something (insert scenario) if I was not around, or tried to make sure I cleaned up that day, just in case (<<hospital visit, etc). I wanted to make sure my kids knew HOW MUCH I loved them, every day. I genuinely thought those days were numbered. Around that same time, I had a lot of other issues going on. The chest pain situation was probably the worst, but additionally almost every evening my stomach would bloat out so far I looked like I was 5-6 months pregnant, and I felt like there was air/gas constantly being pumped into me that was not coming out. My uterus and/or ovaries hurt excruciatingly at least 2 full weeks out of every month (sometimes simultaneously; sometimes not). I was exhausted almost constantly. I was foggy-brained. I was getting fevers and flu-like symptoms 1-3 times per week. AND the chest thing, to head it all off. This wasn't how a 27-year-old should feel. NO ONE should feel this way, unless they are dying, I thought.

When I visited the cardiologist, the EKG they did also resulted in an irregular pattern. They sent me to the emergency room that day to see if they could get a consistent irregular pattern. I was sent home and told that I was probably just having anxiety attacks (was ready to fly off the handles when that nurse told me that. I'LL SHOW YOU ANXIETY, LADY!!!). I went back to the cardiologist a couple weeks later to do a stress test, where I had to run on a treadmill going various speeds and inclines (at one point I thought I may have been having a heart attack in there! This is coming from someone who used to be VERY active, and loved running). When I went back in for a follow-up with my GP, she made a life-changing suggestion: what if all this was acid reflux? At first I thought, "there's NO way, because I don't get any of the burning sensation, like I did when I was pregnant." But apparently chronic acid reflux/GERD can cause heart problem-like symptoms, since the nerves for the stomach and heart are located near each other, and sometimes the acid can "spill over" onto the heart nerves, giving off those symptoms. *MIND BLOWN* She suggested an over-the-counter medication (Omeprazole), and little by little, THOSE symptoms dissipated (although after months of taking the medication I ended up with OTHER problems, but we'll save that story for another time).

I DIDN'T HAVE HEART PROBLEMS!!!

I have been reminiscing about that time in my life. Lately I catch myself rushing. Just rushing to get to the gym, to a play date, to get food made, the house clean... I seldom take time to just SIT and ENJOY time with my family, or by myself... Everything is a checklist, and the more I cross off, the better that day was. It does feel good to get things done, and getting stuff done is often important and necessary; but what is it all for? The memories that ran through my mind that day when I was on my way up to the cardiology office--NONE of them were of me cleaning (neither did I remember how dirty or clean the house was during a certain remembered moment) or the food I cooked or the workout I did. They were the moments I sat and watched a movie with my kids, of bedtimes and snuggles, the moments when Dane and I would stay up chatting and laughing about anything/everything.

Lately life has been stressing me out. I'm working so hard to meal prep and eat right, and yet I am still sick on-and-off. I am exhausted (and sick), yet TRY to keep my house in order, JUST to have my kids to walk around making messes and complaining of how BORED they are (despite the hundreds of toys, and now backyard they have available to them), then clean some more. I constantly feel guilty--for not cleaning enough, for cleaning too much and not spending enough time with the kids; not taking the kids out enough, taking them out too much and overstimulating, for allowing them too much screen time, for being on my phone too much, for not responding quick enough (or sometimes AT ALL) to people who reach out to me; for going to the gym then feeling exhausted the rest of the day, for NOT going to the gym that day; for being too exhausted to make a proper dinner that night for my family, or too exhausted to hang out with Dane after the kids go to bed... THE LIST GOES ON. But WHY?! Why don't I just chill a bit, and enjoy this BEAUTIFUL life I have?! At the end of the day--at the end of my life, what will matter? I should focus on that.

There is one thing I do not feel guilty about, though, and that is TRYING to attain health/remission; because if I can be around just a bit longer (hopefully A LOT longer), it will all be worth it. THAT is one thing I can do to help every member of my family, including me. Sometimes I have to remind myself when I feel like giving up because I'm having a hard day (or WEEK...or TWO) that this is a long-term goal, and there are going to be bumps in the road (I didn't get THAT sick overnight! I will likely not get better without a few stumbling blocks, right?!). It is all so that I can enjoy as much of this wonderful, crazy life as possible. Even on the hard days I have to remind myself that it could be SO much worse, looking back to last year. I have come so far, and intend to go much further.