I Thought — I am Going to Have a Heart Attack

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Abstract

ned my symptoms. Immediately they gave me nitroglycerin because my blood pressure was dangerously high.</p><h2 id="723a">I was terrified</h2><p id="b80f">The pensive looks on the staff’s faces were enough to convince me of my biggest fear — I was going to have a heart attack. The doctor called EMS to transport me to a hospital to handle my condition.</p><p id="ed3f">When I arrived at the hospital, my blood pressure became lower, but I was not totally in the clear.</p><p id="8715">I gathered enough strength to text my family to tell them where I was. But I failed to do so as fear gripped me. I kept waiting for the Tsunami of Death to wash over me.</p><p id="6c8b">After what seemed like days, but was just a matter of a few hours, doctors told me I needed to go through some crucial tests.</p><h2 id="795d">But I had to make my decisions</h2><p id="a522">I didn’t cry or feel sorry for myself. The truth is — I was going to face some difficult decisions by myself, and I had to be a big girl for that.</p><p id="b6fd">I was overwhelmed when they asked me to sign a particular form. If they found blockages in my heart, triple bypass-surgery would be performed immediately.</p><p id="be00">No one was with me. I mean — no one. The nurse who prepped me for the angiogram had a round face and ki

Options

nd eyes. Was this the last face I would see before leaving this phase of existence, I pondered?</p><p id="72ad">The doctor was flat out weird. He said things to me like he could not believe how smooth my skin was for my age and that I really looked good. Is this Tinder or an operating room?</p><p id="6aa2">I glanced at the monitor that was some kind of medical Jumbotron projecting an image of my heart.</p><p id="8a9f">“Your heart is perfect!” These words from the doctor were welcomed with a huge sigh of relief. So, what happened, and why did I end up on this table expecting to have my chest cracked open?</p><h2 id="4219">What actually happened</h2><p id="f258">Stress! I had a massive panic attack because I thought I was going to be late for work.</p><p id="ee33">The perils of being an INTJ caught up with me in a major way. When the unexpected happens now, I have learned to put on a good song and just appreciate having more time to enjoy the music in my car.</p><h2 id="1d5d">The best advice</h2><p id="5d7e">My sister gave me the best advice of all.</p><blockquote id="0c80"><p>If you let any work-associated stress kill you, your company will fill your position before your obituary hits the newspaper.</p></blockquote><p id="7389"><b>Have a stress-free life!</b></p></article></body>

This is what stress can do to you

I checked my GPS to estimate the time it would take me to get to work that morning. It was going to be a beautiful day since my drive would only be 45 minutes, according to my trusty navigator.

But half-way to my destination, the defecation struck the rotary oscillator. So, 45 minutes became an hour and a half due to a car wreck.

My mouth became the Sahara’s twin, and my heart started racing as if I am 5 paces away from some imaginary finish line. Then, a pain ran through my chest that let me know it was time to exit the freeway because I was probably exiting life’s freeway.

When I arrived at a nearby clinic, I quickly explained my symptoms. Immediately they gave me nitroglycerin because my blood pressure was dangerously high.

I was terrified

The pensive looks on the staff’s faces were enough to convince me of my biggest fear — I was going to have a heart attack. The doctor called EMS to transport me to a hospital to handle my condition.

When I arrived at the hospital, my blood pressure became lower, but I was not totally in the clear.

I gathered enough strength to text my family to tell them where I was. But I failed to do so as fear gripped me. I kept waiting for the Tsunami of Death to wash over me.

After what seemed like days, but was just a matter of a few hours, doctors told me I needed to go through some crucial tests.

But I had to make my decisions

I didn’t cry or feel sorry for myself. The truth is — I was going to face some difficult decisions by myself, and I had to be a big girl for that.

I was overwhelmed when they asked me to sign a particular form. If they found blockages in my heart, triple bypass-surgery would be performed immediately.

No one was with me. I mean — no one. The nurse who prepped me for the angiogram had a round face and kind eyes. Was this the last face I would see before leaving this phase of existence, I pondered?

The doctor was flat out weird. He said things to me like he could not believe how smooth my skin was for my age and that I really looked good. Is this Tinder or an operating room?

I glanced at the monitor that was some kind of medical Jumbotron projecting an image of my heart.

“Your heart is perfect!” These words from the doctor were welcomed with a huge sigh of relief. So, what happened, and why did I end up on this table expecting to have my chest cracked open?