Questioning

On Monday I woke up to a rash all over my body. Maybe it was from the food I ate during the Super bowl party. Then on Tuesday, I woke up to severe pain in my heart/lung. I had never been in this much pain before. I had some many errands to take care of after school, but I knew something was very wrong and needed to act immediately.

 

I headed back to Urgent Care. I was embarrassed sitting in the waiting room. I felt like I was Deadpool after his procedure goes wrong. (My friends detest this, but they’re just being nice.) When my doctor saw me, she didn’t believe my condition was from the antibiotic I was on. The tests results showed many positive things except for minor one thing. Then her face got very serious and she said, “You have to go the ER, and we can take you in an ambulance right now.” My reaction on the other hand was, “I’m a Special Olympics coach. I have a virtual meeting in an hour. Can I go after?” Yep, those were my first words. I was thinking about my athletes over myself. I knew my heart (no pun intended), I needed to go and now. 

 

I headed home to change, called my friends and family, and drove myself to the ER. I had never been to the ER, but the stories I heard were that people waited hours to get care, so I was surprised that the waiting room was empty. I gave them my referral paper and within seconds I was hustled to a room with friends accompanying me. I sat on a bed, and the doctors began questioning me as if I was in a courtroom. Within minutes I had tubes on me, around me, and in me. I’ve never seen so many doctors in my life, not even when I had surgery. My friends told me that was because I said the magical words, “pain in my heart/lung.” 

 

      We waited… and waited… and waited…for the results.

 

I tried to make jokes, but my friends weren’t having it. To be honest it was my way just hiding how scared I was. Sometimes I can be so good at masking how I feel. At one point it was rumored I might have to be taken by ambulance. That’s when I shed some tears. None of this made sense.

 

Ultimately, the doctors had mostly good news. “YOU DON’T HAVE MEASLES!” One doctor said joyful. (That doctor told me she’s never been so happy for someone not to have measles. Me too.) Because Urgent Care misdiagnosed me, my body was reacting negatively to the antibiotic it had been on for weeks because it had had enough. (Weirdly, I felt fine until the last day I took the medicine.) But seriously, URGENT CARE MISDIAGNOSED ME?! I was upset. I was questioning if I should ever go back to the doctor again. Because of their mistake, I was in the worst pain I’ve ever experienced. As a result, my heart was slightly abnormal, and I still wasn’t over my cough from December. The results were mostly good, and I was discharged that night. 

 

The bad news is I can’t run, bike, or ride roller coasters (my favorite things to do) for at least a month, possibly longer. And one more tiny detail, I’ll be seeing more doctors. I’ve been sad, frustrated, and very confused as the weeks pass. 

 

I’ve been questioning a lot this month. Why is this happening? How did the doctors get it wrong? When will I feel 100% myself again? Will I ever feel like myself again? Could I have done anything differently? What if this my reality for the rest of my life? Should I ever go to a doctor again? Is it my fault? What if I can’t run or bike? Why now? 

 

I’m typing this blog heartbrokenly and questioning. I’m thankful to the Urgent Care and ER doctors that took care of me. I’m also especially grateful to my friends for being by my side that night. I started feeling better a few days after, but I’ve hit a plateau the past two weeks with no changes. I know I’m healthy, but not being 100% pain free near my heart scares me. I’m worried that in a few weeks when I go back for tests, they’ll advise me to rest for longer. That would crush me.

 

In the meantime, I’m doing my best to put my energy toward other things. I moved out of my small storage. (Don’t tell my doctor I moved 10 boxes of picture boxes.) I’ve also been reading more. I even read parts from my three favorite motivation books every morning. I’ve even eaten some fruits the last couple of weeks. (Funny enough, I read that people who volunteer live longer than those who don’t, so maybe I’ll just keep volunteering instead of reading fruits and outlive everyone. I’m just joking for a record.) And despite me not being able to exercise, I’m still coaching Special Olympic athletes. That makes me happy. 

 

      I will get through this. I know I will. I won’t give up.

Doctor's Orders

There’s a Japanese proverb that says, “Fall down seven times, get up eight.” That was a scary reality of mine this past Monday evening.

 

                  In December I went home to my family to enjoy Christmas break with them. While there, I developed a fever and a deep cough in my lungs. I slept for two days and was back in action but with my cough. I carried it during my Disney marathon and still have it lingering as I type this. 

 

This past Monday evening I was going out for my usual bike ride when my attention drifted for a just a thousandth of a second. Consequently, my bike and I raced off the concrete path of safety and in the woods encompassed by trees, roots, mulch, and danger. My bike crashed into a tree and lay flat on my bloodied body. I brushed myself off and made the decision to keep riding the last 7 miles.

 

To make matters worse, the more the week went long the more tired I got. No matter how much sleep I got, nothing seemed to matter. This morning, I woke up to an extremely sore throat. After talking to my family, I finally caved in and went to my first ever Urgent Care.

 

I’ve always dreaded going to the doctor when I get sick. There’s just something about being in a doctor’s office surrounded by others that are just as sick as me that I’ve avoided for decades. But to my surprise, the doctor welcomed me, told me it wasn’t as bad I thought I was, gave me a prescription, and begged me to rest, doctor’s orders. 

 

What I didn’t consider all these years was that I was the one avoiding help. I figured a week or two on medicine. For the most part, it worked an extra week or two later. “I’m young. I’ll live.” I’d think to myself. But the over-the-counter medicine just masked the problem. There are times when problem is minor and you despite the bruises you can keep going. But there’s other times when problem is too painful and seeking help is perfectly okay. 

My doctor’s orders to you are if you have some illness, addiction, inner pain, tell someone who can help you. You got this!