Tallulah keeps working overtime and I feel her like a leaden pain in my chest, short of breath and exhausted.
I’ve been back to the cardiologist to have Tallulah simmer down a bit and not bump up my heart beat when it’s not necessary, like dusting or emptying the dishwasher . . . (hmmmm, maybe I shouldn’t be doing strenuous things around the house . . . )
Whatever they did with her computer made it worse so I was back to the cardiologist two days later. After talking at length to The Physician’s assistant, she went out, came back and said the doctor didn’t know what to do next. (He’s an expert in the area of electrophysiology . . .)
I jokingly replied, “Tell him to get in here and cure me”. No sooner were the words out of my mouth and she had left the room I felt the rush of tears. Tears that seemed to come from nowhere. I struggled to regain my composure. (In the past I’ve cried in front of too many doctors who dismissed my feelings or leave because they were uncomfortable)
I was, obviously, feeling much more vulnerable than I had been consciously aware of.
With fibromyalgia I know there is always that possibility of feeling better the next day, always the possibility of science coming out with more information and better medications and I know it’s not life threatening.
My heart, as I age, becomes more and more dependent on the pacemaker, on something foreign implanted in my body. They are the same tears I had in my early days of fibromyalgia when no one knew what it was or what to do about it and doctors were just stabbing in the dark. I feel like I’m being stabbed again.
Winter of my discontent
Heart felt discomfort
If you want to read more about Tallulah and see her pictures cut’n’paste Pacemaker, Tallulah Pacehead in the search block at top of blog