“She’s Just Fine”
Not that I want my husband to worry, he has enough on his plate. As I’ve mentioned before worrying is my job. But a little bit of sympathy, just a tad, soothes and calms me. I’ll be the first to admit I am a big baby when I don’t feel well, just pretend like my mother always did.
I’ve been doctoring myself for the past few weeks. Sinus infection and bug which led to no appetite and a steady diet of ice tea. That off course left me with a borderline case of needing IV fluids for dehydration. Because of our circumstances, PCP put me on Gatorade and took away my favorite, yet diuretic, beverage.
I went for a follow-up with her today, and she is still concerned about what may be going on with me. I still have palpitations and pulse rate was high. I’m still exhausted, not tired but just the old “someone pulled the plug out” feeling. She proceeded to do an EKG, ran more blood work and sent me across the street to outpatient at the hospital for a chest x-ray. Me, being my usual “calm” self, drilled her: “Do you suspect a dread disease? Am I going to die? Do I need surgery? You know if you put me in the hospital you have to take hubby to your house.” Left her and the nurse laughing.
Called hubby and told him what was up as I had been gone much longer than anticipated and proceeded to get my x-ray. Now granted by now I’m feeling a better, just knowing that EKG looked good and things were being checked.
So I arrived home, relayed the information to hubby, along with minimizing overly exaggerated concerns. Of course my rational self knows/hopes everything will be fine, but my anxiety likes to play tricks with my mind. His buddy comes strolling by for his daily visit to chat with hubby. Neighbor says “I saw you car gone, did you go out today?” Hubby answers, “No, Pegi, went to the doctor’s and she’s just fine.”
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