For Dhur, being drunk while fighting might actually be an asset?
I’ve been trying to veer away from really revealing blog posts lately, as I think they might put some people off, especially newer readers. However, something happened recently that I feel the need to talk about. This isn’t a set-up for a joke. You have been warned.
Two weeks ago, I took my mother and my daughters out to lunch; my wife was at an event for work over two hours away. While we were out, my mother wanted to buy her granddaughters some blouses at Kohl’s. I dropped them off at the entrance to the store, then went to find parking. As I was steering the car, I felt a hard, dull pain in my left shoulder. This was accompanied by a similar pain in my left hand. That is when my paranoia took over. My dad died very recently from a heart attack, you see. Once I parked the car, I slowly started to freak out. “Is this how it starts?!” is the phrase that was on repeat in my head. Walking to the store, I was dizzy and my feet felt numb. This combined to scare me even more. Once I got in the store, I was more and more light-headed and ultimately, we left the store and I drove myself to the ER.
No cause was found for the pain in my shoulder, except perhaps the fact that I tend to sleep on my left side and may have pinched a nerve at some point. I did not have a heart attack – two EKGs confirmed that. What I did have was my very first (hopefully only) anxiety attack. In talking to friends and doing research online, it is apparently common to feel like you are having a heart attack the first time you get one of these things. I almost literally (and I am using that word in the grammatically correct way) scared myself to death. It’s no wonder this happened to me. I’m surprised it took this long.
As of yesterday, my dad died 4 months ago. I feel like I should be farther along in healing up from this than I am, like some imaginary gym teacher is telling me to suck it up, everybody has it hard. My friends and family keep reminding me that everybody grieves differently and that there is no set timeline for when I should be better. Most days, I am.
I’m okay now, don’t worry. Next week, I’ll have something really really funny for you to read. Probably. ðŸ™‚
Thanks for reading.