Clearly, I’m not meant to be organised.
For only the second time in the three-year history of this blog I had a week-long editorial plan. I KNEW what I was going to be blogging about each day. This is vastly different to my normal mode of blogging which basically is start with a blank screen, begin typing about the first random thought that comes to mind.
This editorial plan involved NOT ONE SINGLE MENTION of the dead husband. Yes people for one week we were all going to pretend that I was some together blogger with important stuff to say about big issues.
Grief had other plans.
I’m really starting to get pissed off with this grief thing. (See I’m even swearing on the blog that’s how mad I am).
So what happened?
Ever since Simon died I’ve been getting chest pains, apparently that can be a normal side effect of grief.
The last two weeks the chest pains have been getting worse, but I thought it was because I had accidentally gone off that special medication the doctor likes to give me. (Ran out while I was away, couldn’t find the script when I got home, forgot to make an appointment with the doctor).
However, yesterday I am standing in the supermarket pretty sure I’m having a heart attack. I’m dizzy and faint, I’ve broken out in a hot sweat, I have a tight pain across my chest and the top of my left shoulder is throbbing in pain also. People, I want you to know that as I face my mortality my first thought was of you,
“I can’t die I haven’t written today’s blog post and I’m really on a roll with that F-Series thingo”.
My second thought was,
“Oh god I haven’t re-read my will since Simon died, I think it says if he predeceased me the kids get everything and mum is left to look after them, but what if it doesn’t, maybe I should ring the lawyer”.
At this point I’m pretty sure I’m going to pass out.
“Oh my god, my children are going to be ORPHANS”
So I call my mum to ask her to drive me to the hospital and let her know she may be about to inherit both my children and the financial responsibility of managing a lot of debt with a side serve of not-enough-super.
We really should put that plaque order for the grave on hold, we might be able to go straight to the double version if I’m bowing out now.
At the hospital I’m ushered straight through – chest pain it gets their attention fast.
A nice young doctor explains they will be testing me for a heart attack, he asks if there are any stress factors in my life?
Where would you begin?
I chose to burst into tears and make wild gestures at my mother to speak for me.
Mother: “Her husband died six months ago”.
Nice Doctor: “I’m sorry, let me just find out where we keep the tissues”. I may have dripping snot by that stage. It wasn’t elegant crying folks.
By the time he had found the tissues I’d recovered my voice.
“My eldest daughter has just started year 12.”
“My youngest daughter worries, particularly about losing another parent, she’s down to her last one you know, and now that last one is hooked up to a lot of machines that go beep”.
“I don’t have a job”.
“I feel EXHAUSTED ALL THE TIME”.
Nice Doctor: “Right we can consider your stress factors are at a high level”.
“I’m only just warming up, there’s more ….”
But nice doctor decided we should consider my physical symptoms.
So I spent the day being poked and prodded and eventually stress tested.
You guys will be so proud of me, I got on a treadmill and walked fast for almost 11 minutes. Me who can’t walk around the block without almost passing out. I also did it wearing an open-fronted gown with no bra on, I don’t have a shred of dignity left.
Anyway, I passed every test, I’m not having a heart attack, so basically it’s all in my head.
Grief really is a b****.
I’d been moved to new cubicle and was having another cry when nice doctor came in to tell me I could go home, this time he found the tissues without any assistance. I feel it’s important to help the medical professional upskill.
So anyway, my heart is fine (and according to the doctor in the cardio lab very PHOTOGENIC, he said that, really he did “you have a photogenic heart”).
You just don’t get to choose how this grief thing will manifest itself and unfortunately you don’t get to select WHEN it will knock you down.
I am OK though people, don’t worry, it’s all very normal.
You dust yourself off, get back up and keep on going.
So TOMORROW folks we return to the slightly delayed F-series.