I was thinking of a few pithy titles but the simple truth is, I have a broken heart. Instead of the smooth rhythm and blues my heart usually plays, with a bit of hard rock, country and occasional soul instead it’s gone Jazz.
I have a condition called pericarditis. I have pain, breathlessness and a reading from a machine which goes beep when it really should go bop. Popped to see my Doc as I just ‘didn’t feel right’, lots of hand patting and ‘I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about but just to put your mind at rest have an ECG’. Only after 3 ECG’s head scratching worried looks and being asked in as many ways possible ‘you ok?’ I was in hospital with a cannula in my arm having X-rays, blood tests and people waiting for me to drop dead.
It was a toss up between pulmonary embolism (blood clot) pericarditis (Inflammation of the sac around the heart) or good old fashioned heart attack.
Blood tests ruled out 1&3 and I was allowed to leave to go home with number 2.
Back to hospital 4 days later and no change. My heart is beating in a different way. As simple as that. No wonder I feel a bit odd.
I don’t want to die of a broken heart. He’s still here. He doesn’t tell me the things I think I want to hear. He hasn’t really done any grand gestures. There are no love notes under my pillow. But he is here. We have had some magic within the quagmire. That’s enough to hold onto.
Feelings of worthlessness have been replaced by feelings of wondefulness. I am wonderful. If other people struggle to love me the way I want to be loved that’s their shit. I get to love myself in every way possible ( think Woody Allen’s quote) and then some. I’m going to be my own best friend because I am amazing and i know how to make myself happy.
Strength + courage = fearless