Closing the loop

I've been wrapped up in the all-consuming bubble for awhile. It's been hard, ugly, and quite frankly irritating. I've tried to rationalize. I've tried to talk myself up. Tried to busy myself with household tasks, but I always fell back into the hole.

Tuesday night was the worst night I've ever had. 

I had been relatively fine all day. I had my typical aches that I've had, so it wasn't anything new. The aches in my entire chest, ribcage, and back were present but when my mind was elsewhere I didn't notice them at all. 

Then it came out of nowhere. 

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't take a deep breath. I felt the area above my left breast tightening up and my back hurting. Pain radiated all through me. I was fidgety. I was afraid for Ryan to get more than a foot away from me. I was terrified that this was it. I was 100% convinced it was a heart attack because never had my panic attacks been so horrible. I don't think if you've ever had a panic attack you understand that actual fear that comes along with it. I was so scared. So scared that after I took my medicine and it didn't help I freaked out even more. I take half of my prescribed dosage because that's all I need. Yet, this night I needed the entire dosage which is still relatively low.

I was freaking out so much, I called my mom to come over. I also text my cardiologist because I honestly couldn't differentiate between heart attack or panic or attack or if I was just straight up losing my mind. He told me he was on the runaway and would be back in Little Rock and to just calm down and relax. Shortly my mother showed up and Ryan was able to take the kids and play with them so that they wouldn't be stressing me out more. Slowly, after talking to my mom and my medicine beginning to kick in I felt myself relaxing. I felt the pain subsiding. I felt myself being able to take deep breaths and I felt myself returning back to a normal state.

This episode was about 2.5 hours. It was hell. I said a lot of unlady like words and I probably freaked both my mother and Ryan out.

I was checked on later by the doctor who said I could come in on Friday for a full workup on my heart. I was embarrassed that it came to this, but honestly it was a mental block that I had.

Everything weighed so heavily on the fact that I felt "off". My mind completely took over my body and I was expected nothing but the worst at every single second of my day.

I was able to run 3 miles Wednesday and Friday morning with ease. I felt good. I felt confident. I didn't think about my heart, my pains, the "off" feeling. I just felt good. Yet, 30 minutes after it was gone.  I'll spare the details of my actual appointment, but I had a stress test. On ultrasound my heart looked perfect. After 10 minutes on the treadmill, my heart still looked perfect. We talked with Dr. Jones and thankfully he understood. He knew this was just one last little box that I needed to check off in order to get my life back.

I left that office confident. My head was held a little bit higher and I knew that the days ahead of me will be a little brighter. I thank God for the patience that I've received from my husband, parents, and my doctor.

My weekend was good. I asked Ryan yesterday if he thought it was weird that I had felt SO good the past two days? That there was no pain in my body. That I had laughed and smiled more that day that I had in a long time. He said no. He said that he knew that I was fine; I just needed justification elsewhere.

Next Monday I have my first therapy session. I'm looking forward to it. Honestly I sort of feel like I don't need it as good as my days have been, but I'm going. It's clear to me that stress and anxiety ruled my life for nearly two months.

I never in my life thought that I would have struggled with this. I have always been confident, upbeat, outgoing, and always had outlets. Running, working out, and blogging have always been my outlets but none of them helped my situation.

What Ryan went through me shook me to my core. It only came months later when I least expected it. Now, I'm just thankful that I "lost" two months of what could have been good months versus what could have been who knows how long. I'm honestly in a better place mentally and physically. Sometimes you just need that little boost of confidence and you have to figure out where it comes from. For me, it was an ultrasound of my heart to rule out problems and for me to be told what I was going through was justified. I'm sure I will have bumps in the road, but I also know that I have the proof that I am okay. That I have a life to live and it doesn't have to be in fear.

 

Because it's messy.

Having it all together. I like to believe that in my day to day life I've "got it together". If someone were to think of Sarah Davis, I would hope that they saw me as someone who has their ducks in a row and knows what they're doing. However, the last few months have been so hard for me. 

It's a journey. Life that is. You have your peaks and your valleys and while life is currently SO good it's also SO hard for me in many ways. 

I should back up and say that while Ryan was in the hospital I was good. Considering the situation, I truly held it all together. That came straight from the good Lord above and from my natural strength that I think I have. I'm a tough cookie. Self-declared. I give myself props for holding it together as well as I did during those incredibly tough days. Even after the hospital stay, the surgery, and having Ryan home I still was doing well. 

A couple months after Ryan was home my world flipped. Suddenly, things didn't feel right with me. 

I began to anticipate the worst. I feared for everything. I was scared. I was nervous. I was paranoid. I was afraid to sleep. Everything affected me in a negative way. This, mind you, was when Ebola was "it" as was the threat of ISIS (see: election time). I vividly remember sitting up at night waiting for something bad to happen. My bed scared me. The dark scared. I feared closing my eyes for what if someone woke up puking in the middle of the night. It was so tough and I was scared to tell anyone for fear of seeming like I had totally lost my mind. Especially Ryan. I was the tough one. I was the one that had it together, kept it together, and should have able to continue to hold it together, but I was failing. And that? That was more crippling to me than the actual "problems" I was facing. 

I began to lose sleep. I became moody and on edge and looking back now I see it. I still see it. At the time I was simply living in a bubble not believing that I had problems when in fact I did.  Then I began to have heart palpitations. They were terrifying because they happened so often. For three days I dealt with them. The longest I went without one was 10 minutes. I became obsessive about anticipating the next one. I sat with my fingers to my throat waiting for the next skipped beat. It was all consuming. Finally, I contact a cardiologist ( the one who was Ryan's) and he told me it was likely stress related and it should stop. When it didn't on that third day he offered to check me out for an ease of mind. I took him up on the offer and had a (normal) EKG as well as wearing a holter monitor for 48 hours. Once I knew I was going to go see him the next day I relaxed some and the skipping began to subside. On the way I began to feel silly because I wasn't having them nearly as much. That made me realize that maybe he was right. Maybe it was stress related. After talking (and shedding tears) it was decided I was most likely suffering from delayed affects from what happened over the summer. It was hard to accept because I honestly felt like that was all behind us and we were good. I guess I was wrong. I was prescribed anxiety meds to deal with the panic attacks I was having. Which if you've never had one they are hard to understand. I could be watching tv and then suddenly think of something and I instantly couldn't breathe. My vision became blurry, I was hot and sweaty, and my hands became clammy. I would have to immediately get up and go do something to get my mind off it, which was usually flossing. Don't ask me why? I guess it was just a focus and activity that had me focusing on doing something else. I wouldn't tell Ryan when I was having one. I simply would remove myself from the situation and come back after I had composure. 

The palpitations stopped completely and I felt like I was getting back to normal. Little by little. 

Then, I found a lump in my right breast. 

That sent me into a panic overload. I obsessively touched it and would try and find others. I would lay on the floor crying, worrying, telling Ryan to feel this or that and what he thought. It was a very difficult time waiting for my doctors appointment. I continued to have panic attacks. I had horrible chest pains that sent me to urgent care one evening where I had another (normal) EKG. I cried over everything. Everything was hard. Everything hurt. Everything reminded me of what we had went through as a family the months before. I was scared. Scared for my life. Scared for my babies. Scared for my husband. 

All in all I just lived in constant fear. 

I prayed and I prayed a lot. 

I asked for prayers on my behalf and on those nights that I publicly declared I was desperate for prayers I felt them and I felt a peace. But, who wants to be that person who asks constantly? I didn't. But then I learned sometimes we go through seasons of our lives where we need it. We need that support. We need people praying for us on a much more constant basis. And well, I'm currently in that season. 

I had my lump checked out and it was another fibroadenoma. I now have two. 

Getting an ultrasound and having the radiologist look at it eased a lot of fears. I could breathe again. It was a long couple of weeks/months but I'm slowly getting my life back. 

The medicine helped, but it was hard taking it. It still is when I needed it which has become very rare. I don't like feeling like I need something to make me feel normal. To make me relax. To make me realize that need to chill out and enjoy the now. 

I slept 7 hours last night. That's the longest I've slept consecutively in over 3 weeks. I've done some major work on my body. I look bad, I feel bad, and I was robbing my children and husband from quality time. 

I've got a plan now, with help of my husband and parents. My next step is therapy. I want my old self back. I want my normalcy. My positive outlook. My vibrancy. I know she's in there. She's hiding behind boulders scared to come out. Slowly the boulders are being chipped away inch by inch. 

Wyatt prays nightly for me. "To make mommy feel better." It's music to my ears that he prays for me because Lord knows I need them and they are being answered in time. 

So there. There's the open book that I always am. The good, the bad, and the very, very, ugly.

I know I haven't been myself and I know that people who have been around me have seen it. After Bunco night a friend mentioned they noticed I was off. This is why. At a girl's night I cried a few times when I certainly should have been excited and jolly. This is why. 

Priorities... Feeling like the old Sarah. I tell myself and others it's like post-traumatic stress disorder. Maybe, maybe not. Either way I know the last 6 months have been grueling in different way. I hope the next 6 are filled with an abundance of smiles, laughs, and love. And prayers. Lots of prayers.  

You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands.  Isaiah 55:12