Bah.
For an uncomfortably long amount of time last night I had what felt like, at least whilst it continued, either (a) an anxiety fit or worse (b) a minor heart attack - got home feeling utterly stressed and winded, then before dinner my chest tightened up, breath was very short, was hunched over and could barely move.
I stumbled through dinnertime not telling the husband how awful I felt, then retreated to bed figuring it was just boxed-up stress. I closed my eyes & tried to calm down, which seemed to work.
nverzeanu, though, having had a dad who died at 42 of a sudden heart attack, bullied me into calling the doctor today once I told him the extent of my evening's joy.
So after work, I went in to see the doc prepared to sheepishly say what a weepy wuss I am, and how I'd brokenhearted myself into a Felix Unger-like neurotic-menace episode. The handsome doctor (who I think I groped in a sauna once, I can't be sure; we both seemed to recognise each other from ... somewhere ... but I digress) agreed it sounded more like stress: I mentioned Weensie going so close to the anniversary of Todd's death, and what a long week it's been, but given the family background of the men of my dad's family carking it early on via heart attacks & strokes & wotnot, he ran some tests anyway to be sure.
The heart was absolutely fine. The breathing test, though, was allegedly textbook asthma results.
I remain dubious and convinced the doctor just wanted to pawn off more meds on me in exchange for some kickbacks from the pharmaceutical megacorporations or something. Nick however says Australia is legendary for bringing asthma on to people who never had it before. Charrrrrming.
This might make sense as to why I sometimes get suddenly winded on low rises up a street whilst Nick is walking ahead absolutely fine. Still, I never had anything like feeling out of breath all the time or anything, and definitely never one of those melodramatic wheezewheezegaaaaasp moments like one sees in all those Hollywood tv dramas where the asthmatic wuss clutches at his throat, falling to earth as his quivering, clawing hand falls Just Short Of The Inhaler .... fade to commercial. Though maybe I have been short of breath for a while now, and it came on and settled in so slowly that I adapted & never noticed. Well, until last night.
We'll see; all this has only been over the last 24 hours and I dunno if the inhaler thing I tried for the first time really did make me feel easier breathing when we got back from dinner a few minutes ago and I still felt short of breath, or if it was psychosomatic power-of-suggestion on my weak little mind. I refuse to admit my chest has relaxed immensely even as I've been typing this.
Bah.
So, in the course of the past few months and in the next few weeks I will have become flat-footed, asthmatic, and 45 years old. HUZZAH. HERE COMES YOUR DREAMBOAT.
Bah.
For an uncomfortably long amount of time last night I had what felt like, at least whilst it continued, either (a) an anxiety fit or worse (b) a minor heart attack - got home feeling utterly stressed and winded, then before dinner my chest tightened up, breath was very short, was hunched over and could barely move.
I stumbled through dinnertime not telling the husband how awful I felt, then retreated to bed figuring it was just boxed-up stress. I closed my eyes & tried to calm down, which seemed to work.
So after work, I went in to see the doc prepared to sheepishly say what a weepy wuss I am, and how I'd brokenhearted myself into a Felix Unger-like neurotic-menace episode. The handsome doctor (who I think I groped in a sauna once, I can't be sure; we both seemed to recognise each other from ... somewhere ... but I digress) agreed it sounded more like stress: I mentioned Weensie going so close to the anniversary of Todd's death, and what a long week it's been, but given the family background of the men of my dad's family carking it early on via heart attacks & strokes & wotnot, he ran some tests anyway to be sure.
The heart was absolutely fine. The breathing test, though, was allegedly textbook asthma results.
I remain dubious and convinced the doctor just wanted to pawn off more meds on me in exchange for some kickbacks from the pharmaceutical megacorporations or something. Nick however says Australia is legendary for bringing asthma on to people who never had it before. Charrrrrming.
This might make sense as to why I sometimes get suddenly winded on low rises up a street whilst Nick is walking ahead absolutely fine. Still, I never had anything like feeling out of breath all the time or anything, and definitely never one of those melodramatic wheezewheezegaaaaasp moments like one sees in all those Hollywood tv dramas where the asthmatic wuss clutches at his throat, falling to earth as his quivering, clawing hand falls Just Short Of The Inhaler .... fade to commercial. Though maybe I have been short of breath for a while now, and it came on and settled in so slowly that I adapted & never noticed. Well, until last night.
We'll see; all this has only been over the last 24 hours and I dunno if the inhaler thing I tried for the first time really did make me feel easier breathing when we got back from dinner a few minutes ago and I still felt short of breath, or if it was psychosomatic power-of-suggestion on my weak little mind. I refuse to admit my chest has relaxed immensely even as I've been typing this.
Bah.
So, in the course of the past few months and in the next few weeks I will have become flat-footed, asthmatic, and 45 years old. HUZZAH. HERE COMES YOUR DREAMBOAT.
Bah.


