August 15, 2005
Freaking Out?
...sorry. I'm at a loss here.
I started this with the idea that I would never be filling these pages with depressing ideas, or sentiments. I wanted this to be an exploration of fine writing, discovering new ideas, and, hopefully, composing entries that would make someone else smile, as I have done when reading other people's entires.
This week, it doesn't appear to be going that way.
I left work Friday early to see the Dave Matthew's Band. Saw Jem open up, then the Black Eyed Peas. All in all, quite enjoyable.
Approximately 6 songs into Dave Matthew's set, I received a call from my Mom.
Dad was admitted into the hospital Friday night with heart problems.
On June 9th, 2004, he had an eight way bypass. That's only 5 more than your average triple bypass. Boy, that was a stretch of the math skilz. He came through it all with flying colors, and we celebrated his "one year birthday" in July with family members.
It seems that his heart is acting up in a strangely funky way. The right side of his heart is beating off-kilter in the bottom portion, and the top part of the right side is beating faster to keep up.
I apologize right now for my lack of technical jargon. I know there's a Right aorta, etc., but I'm frankly not sure what is causing what to act up, and instead of making shit up I'm going to admit I'm NOT A FREAKING DOCTOR and explain it the best I can. If I don't explain it the way I want to, then I won't feel any better. So there.
The left side of his heart appears to be swollen, is larger than it should be, and hardly beating at all. I'm not sure of the exact measurements, and what exactly is "larger than it should be", but I'm paraphrasing what the doctors have said.
They ran a few tests on him to try to determine what's going on. In one test, they monitor his heartbeat while he's resting, have him get up and march around the room to resemble "exercise", monitor his heartbeat after that, and then let it slow down, upon which time they take another reading.
That last sentence sucked, but I'm not in the mood to grade myself.
After a day and a half, they received the results from the test, which to them must've looked fine, although they didn't like the results of his heart rate and couldn't figure out why his heart is acting the way it is.
They released him Sunday afternoon with no reason as to why his heart is behaving the way it is, no assurances that he wouldn't have a heart attack, and no follow up appointment where a heart specialist would be taking a look at this issue soon.
Mind you, my Dad is by no means whatsoever a wuss. Far from it. In fact, we usually have to nag and/or force him to go see a doctor when he's experiencing things that a normal person would know that it's time to go into the hospital, like chest pains, or passing out, or an amputated limb. Those kind of things.
Mind you also, I know I'm probably over reacting to this whole situation, and getting worked up over something that probably isn't worth getting worked up over.
Again, mind you, I'm one of the biggest Daddy's Girls that ever set foot in the Bay Area, and I don't take kindly to not knowing precisely what is going on with my Dad's main source of blood flow. In fact, I don't take kindly to anything negative regarding, said about, or waived in the general direction of my Daddy. It just makes me see red, and quite literally.
I believe that part of me is seriously over reacting just from the simple fact that I have been to this darn hospital in the last 3 weeks more than I have been at work, or so it seems.
I just can't seem to shake that bad feeling of doom and gloom. The one that hits you hardest when you're in the dark and aren't sure of what is exactly happening or is causing your loved ones to be admitted into the hospital and scare you into thinking the worst.
On the other hand, I don't think it's in anyone's best interest, especially my father's, if I share these fears with him.
So what's a Clipchick to do? I can't bottle things up inside-it just makes it worse. Worse for my state of mind, worse on my nerves, worse for those around me.
Here's the other thing, while we're being paranoid:
I don't really believe that I'm very superstitious, but I've been around long enough to believe that bad things happen in threes. So what's next? What else can possibly happen? Am I tempting fate just by asking?
I sure as heck hope not.
I'm on my way over to my parent's house. Hopefully, I can get it together enough to put on my "Brave Face" and pretend as if I'm not secretly freaking out...
Wish me luck.
clipchick at 4:47 p.m.
All thoughts, ideas, and musings are � Clipchick. Please don't snipe my stuff!
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