It’s Wednesday night , so the story continues. I left off last week being prescribed beta blockers.
Let me take this opportunity to give my rant on medicine.
I hate medicine.
I really, really, really hate it. A lot. If I ever have a cold, or a muscle ache, or anything of the like, invariably someone around me asks if I’ve taken medicine. Why would I? I’d rather just power through.
Sometimes “medicine” is used as a very broad term. I don’t dislike modern medicine. I like the idea that doctors can fix things that happens to me. I don’t like pills, or syrup, or really any kind of thing I have to take. (I dislike pills the most, though.)
I always thought I was very polite, and possibly even somewhat quiet about this fact. But every single time I met a doctor on my case in the hospital – or even now, if I go to a doctor for any reason – the first thing a doctor does as he or she looks up from my chart is say, “So, you really don’t like medicine, huh?”
It probably says I’m a troublemaker in my chart, doesn’t it?
Anyway, the doctors at Tufts gave me a prescription for beta blockers. I reluctantly, begrudgingly got it filled, and started taking pills daily (maybe multiple times a day, actually?). Doctors kept stressing that this was my heart, and my life and everything. They made it sound super serious. Fine. I’ll take your medicine so that I can live. Or whatever.
I returned to school Thursday (the day after I got out of the hospital). It was so weird going back to that class. The last time everyone had seen me, I had been walking out with paramedics (after making a huge interruption by passing out and all).
I didn’t know what to say when I came back. I tried to apologize for the big interruption (and possibly startling people), but it’s hard to make that sound sincere (even though it was). I tried to make light of it, but I’m sure my jokes were awkward. (I don’t remember at all what I said, or I’d tell my awkward jokes to you. It wasn’t like I was doing stand up or anything. I was just trying to make light of the situation.)
I also was kind of full of questions (which I’m sure was annoying). I like to be present. I usually like to be pretty in control. And here was this crazy occurrence in my class that I kind of missed, you know, by being unconscious. I wanted to know what happened, who called 911, all that jazz. The boys - I’m pretty sure I was the only girl in my class - gave me the story, even though I felt weird being curious about it.
But how can you not be? Everyone else was talking about it. So, I wanted to feel as though I was a part of the trending topic at school – which was especially weird, because I was part of it! After all, the story revolved around me – which is actually not what I wanted.
I mean, I did want everyone talking about me. Let’s get real. Otherwise I wouldn’t have taken on crazy dares such as this one. But that’s the kind of stuff I wanted them talking about, not weird heart stuff.
It was so weird too, because everyone was asking me how I was doing. On the one hand, that was very sweet. On the other, it was so awkward. Having a heart problem is totally awkward. And then it was weird because I didn’t have a definitive end. It wasn’t like “well, they fixed me right up!” It was more like, “Well, I have this really rare thing that they couldn’t fix on the first try, so now we’re trying medicine. And we’ll see.”
Of course more people just got “I’m fine.” The longer explanatory version was only for very close friends or super curious people.
Sorry, I know I didn’t take you all that far in this installment. (Then again, do I ever?) And this is where we’ll pick up next week.