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. :)
Thanks for reading.
Take care,
~Rob
My dad passed almost 25 years ago. It still hits me, someone harder than others. You never really move past it. Just kind of learn to avoid the pothole.
I agree with Doyle. You never really 100% get over losing a loved one.
On the subject of anxiety attacks, I’ve had them real bad and it’s not just the first one that can feel like a heart attack. Any of them can pull that horror on you. Great fun at 1 in the morning but your carers have already gone to sleep but you don’t want to wake them and worry them and that just feeds into the attack. Doubly true when you have known heart issues in the family.
No wonder my guardian nearly throttled the person at the root of the problem.
I lost my father and both of my grandfathers in the last few years and I agree you never get totally over it. you just keep going as best you can and never quit. In Jewish custom after a death the community well gather round and just be there for the family lending strength to them by there presence. We your readers are you community, one you have created for all of us. Please allow us to support you and give you strength by being here for you.
Rob,
I can tell you that the pain will go away, but then when you think you are over it something will remind you of him and you will feel the loss all over again. Avoiding the pothole is the best description I could offer as well. My Dad passed 10 days before my 27th birthday and it is always tough even now 20+ years later. Remember the good times and it makes the pain of the loss a little bit more tolerable.
Rob.
I mentioned when you wrote up about it, that my dad passed away not too long before yours did. I also know the fear of wondering if your having a heart attack. Many of the men on my dad’s side of the family have tended to die from heart attacks…often at 65 years. My dad figured out why, my family runs deficient on Magnesium. I’d already inherited an arrhythmia, which taking extra magnesium and potassium controls. My dad ended up living to 73 (and passed due to pancreatic cancer…probably related to Vietnam Agent Orange exposure).
Anyway, about 2 years ago, I had a pain in my chest and a little difficulty breathing. It scared me enough to go into ER. Like you a couple of EKGs told me it wasn’t a heart attack…it turned out to be pleurisy, which I occasionally get. Now, i get a new warning pain when it starts to act up.
The short version is that getting older kind of stinks when your body turns traitorous.
I’m glad it turned out to be something far less serious.
Rob,
My dad died 29 years ago yesterday from his first, and only, heart attack. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t miss him. As far as what you put into the blog, it is your blog. Write what you want. If you have something you want to get off your chest, listening is what friends do and we’re all friends here.
I’ve been lurking for awhile, enjoying your comics (I came here from Shanna Swendson’s blog) but this is my first time commenting. I just wanted to agree with your family that there isn’t a timeline on grief. My dad died three years ago of cancer. I’ve never had an anxious y attack, but I have had a few nights staring at the sealing, wondering if I’ll go the same way. Not fun.