The words
of a friend of mine were ringing in my ears while I was waiting for a taxi to
take me to the ER. It was 3 o’clock in the morning and I’d just woken up with
my heart hammering in my chest a crazy rhythm and my pulse at an alarming rate.
It was, no
doubt, one of the scariest moments of my life. Together with the time when
Iranian missiles were flying over my head while lying in a ditch and Maya’s
fainting because of rotavirus, it made the first of the three. Hurray!
Of course,
being scared witless didn’t help. I tried breathing exercises, praying…and even
now, when I am writing about it, it sends my anxiety levels through the roof.
At the ER
they did blood tests, an X-ray and EKG and they said everything looked normal.
My heart rate went down and I was shivering. They sent me home with
“recommendations”. You know, go to your family doctor and ask for referrals to
tests and a cardiologist. My doctor didn’t have free appointments until the end
of the month because, well, holidays. Almost nobody works during this month,
all the Jewish holidays come one after the other this month. So, everything
gets pushed to next month. In September…well, I just have to survive September
somehow.
What if it
happens again, I asked. They shrugged.
They said
maybe it is stress related.
Yes, I
know, stress. The “silent Killer”. Or was it high blood pressure?
Don’t tell
me about stress. I have been living with it for as long as I understood what it
is. The last two years were especially hellish. Wars, Maya’s army, my husband’s
cancer that made a spectacular come-back… And a million other problems I am not
going to tell you about.
I know
myself.
I am the
one that cries over sick stray cats, worries about everything and everybody, whether
next winter will be rainy and the water will infiltrate in the apartment. Why
our neighbor parks his car on two parking spaces when there aren’t enough for
all the cars in the building. Stupid stuff like that.
I cannot
escape this toxic cloud of worry and anxiety that follows me everywhere, no
matter how hard I try.
Because
this is who I am.
I tried
meditation and autogenic training and natural remedies and I read myself in a
coma and I write and I try to cope with life the best I can.
But in the
end, I know.
I know my
heart is going to kill me one day, the soppy bastard.
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