“I’m totally blogging this.”
Sunday evening I discovered that the regularly natural event of breathing was becoming more of an effort than necessary. After trying to tough it out for four hours, I finally realized that yes (thank you Jeremy and Libby), going to the ER might actually be a good course of action.
At first we were optimistic.
Although tempted to say “omigod, my hair’s turned blue!” anytime someone asked what was wrong, I refrained and told them the simple truth : breathing is not working the way it’s supposed to right now.
I got stickered and EKG-ed. Elephantine Kindergartner’s Glee? Exciting Killer Girlfriends? Environmental Kangaroo Goo? They said it was Electric Cardio Gram, but as we can all tell, Cardio does not start with a K. I think the nurse was lying to me.
Then they stuck me.
Ow ow ow. Blood tests were ok.
Time passes, but Jeremy and I remain in hopes of finding some sort of answer.
There were pretty masks and tube-things behind me. You can’t see them, but look at the joy they bring me.
Three hours later, no answers.
Oh wait, they did say I was experiencing “shortness of breath.” No shit you dumb fuckers, guess what I came in for?
After going through possibilities, the general consensus that it was a severe panic attack. Which is odd as everything is better right now than it’s ever been. Stupid body. At least Jeremy got to play with his new camera and we got a blog out of it, neh?