Posted on | April 19, 2012 | 11 Comments
Nothing’s ever easy, is it?
After my rousingly upbeat post of Tuesday where I metaphorically sounded my barbaric yawp, I went on with my day. I went home for lunch and when I came back, I was feeling a bit… woosy. I stopped in the breakroom and talked to one of our paralegals about what was going on and she very calmly stood, collected her car keys, and escorted me to the nearest emergency room.
Once I was hooked up to the monitors, it appeared that my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest. My resting heart rate never went below 90 and kept spiking up to 131 at random intervals. Eventually, the doctor came in and told me they’d like to admit me for observation.
I *might* have had a bit of a breakdown at that point.
Long story short, I signed myself out of the hospital against medical advice and took my happy ass to a cardiologist yesterday who has outfitted me with a lovely eCardio monitor to measure my heartrate.
Can we all just agree that I have too much stress in my life and not enough ways to handle it? Because I’m 99% sure that’s all this is. Still… having a heart monitor is nothing to sneeze at, and I’m trying to take it easy over the next few days.
Last night, the damn thing got its memory in a wad and started beeping at me like the second coming of dial up internet. I pulled myself out of bed and into the living room where the lights informed me that I needed to call in to the manufacturer and “transmit my data.”
What no one told me was that transmitting data sounds like having your own personal ambulance inside the living room. It was LOUD. And high pitched. And it went on for eight minutes.
Have I mentioned I have two dogs?
Because yeah… they totally loved that high pitch wailing and joined in with what can only be described as their own rendition of the Pound song from Lady and the Tramp.
And also all of this was at quarter of 11 last night.
So needless to say, I’m a little sluggish this morning, wading through my day with less caffeine and less awareness of the world around me. Plus my nifty little accessory sort of looks like I’m carrying around a Zach Morris phone only with wires connected to my boobs. The point of all of this is just to say… I don’t know… Hi? And I’m still here, but I’m busy being monitored. So please forgive the radio silence.