Quite the interesting four or five days. When did I write last? Saturday? Ok, let’s
start with Sunday. I woke with the beginnings of stomach flu that became quite exciting over the course of the next first half of the day. Luckily M returned from NY by one, so as soon as she arrived home I shut down. I couldn’t concentrate, I couldn’t sleep, I just sort of crashed on the bed and stared into space. At one point Mars, our black cat, and I reclined next to the window so we could take in the sun. The stomach flu wrecked me inside and out, literally, I’ll spare you the details. Anyway, when I woke on Monday my entire chest hurt. Now, I had anxiety attacks a few years back, when I couldn’t breathe, but this was different. On Monday I felt like someone was sitting on my chest. My entire breastplate was united in pain. Now, I didn’t think this was a heart thing, but the pain progressed through the rest of the day, so I hit the walk-in clinic late in the afternoon since I knew if I waited much longer I wouldn’t be able to address the issue until the morning. I explained my symptoms and, a couple minutes later, the doctor returned with four paramedics and a goddamn gurney! Apparently I had described a stroke/heart attack profile. I offered to walk to the ambulance, but apparently that’s against the rules, so the paramedics strapped me to the gurney and off we went. Now, I can understand why the doctor couldn’t let me drive myself (I could sue), but I don’t understand why I couldn’t just walk to the ambulance. I could see the ambulance near the door. We ran “hot” (lights, sirens, etc.) to the hospital, where I was put into the trauma room because all the other rooms were taken. While the room was large, with many interesting toys, the room did not have a television. I assume those in trauma are not interested in entertainment. The ER nurse was a bitch, but maybe she was having a bad night, I could see her trying to be nice here and there. The whole scenario was pretty boring and probably expensive. We’ll see. By the end of the night, after a slew of tests, the doctors figured something with my chest walls, probably related to the stomach flu virus, caused the problem, but they had to make sure. I get that. I just hope my insurance doesn’t kill me.
Yesterday I woke up with the same chest pain so I took an alleve. I worked off and on at home through the morning until, near noon, when T’s school called and said he was ill. He was totally faking, if you ask me, but I felt like too much of a hypocrite to say “stay in school” while I was sitting on my ass watching television, so I picked him up. I told him I needed an accomplice, anyway, for a project. We drove over to Radio Shack and picked up a twenty-five foot cable. When we returned home we put the dining room furniture in the living room and the living room furniture in the dining room. I think the scenario looks kind of cool, although the new dining room looks too expansive, almost sparse, and I already knocked my head on the light that used to be above the dining room table but is now above the couch. Later I visited my doctor, a completely old school, somewhat insane doctor who said everything was fine but wants me to schedule an additional in-depth stress test. M thinks I had pleurisy, by the way. The description of the symptoms does sound similar, and I did have a virus, so maybe she’s right:

http://www.webmd.com/a-to-z-guides/understanding-pleurisy-basics

Oh, I also read an interesting article on men and depression in the lobby Newsweek copy. I need to think on how to frame these next few sentences. I knew I couldn’t maintain this pace forever. In retrospect, I have probably evidenced some depression since a very young age. My “asthma” in high school, muscle spasms, all of that, I think my body has built in the stress response to the point where I’m on “go” about every second of the day. I also took an online depression test, from a reputable organization, and scored way higher than I would like even when I was careful to avoid exaggeration. I’m depressed. I like saying that, actually. I like owning the condition so I can move on from the condition. This has been a pivotal year for me, and I am optimistic. I’ve broken some huge bad habits that I won’t describe here (although I still eat like shit), and I think I’ve, well, I guess the right word is surrendered. I will need to think on the terminology further. I feel healthier acknowledging a potential illness. I worry about everything. But tonight I feel stronger and calmer, and I need to pursue this so the feelings remain beyond tonight. I know winter is ending, I know this winter has been a motherfucker, but I’d go through many of the same struggles, I think, even if I lived on the equator. Ok, more later, too much for tonight.