It’s Wednesday night , so this series continues.
Picking up from last week –
So, I got out of the hospital and was put on this lame medicine.
I’m pretty sure I wasn’t necessarily awesome at taking it. But, I took it most of the time. Sometimes.
You’re not allowed to run for a little while after having an ablation. I forget how many days, but I remember it being a nuisance – not because I love running so much, but because I ran around a bit in my daily life.
Immediately after the play I was working on closed that Saturday night (October 24th), I went to Pennsylvania. I had work for America’s Got Talent bright and early the next morning. My dad drove me down there (on his way back to Ohio). So, I guess it wasn’t all bad that he came out for my little heart procedure.
Obviously, it’s never bad when my dad comes to visit. If I had my way about it, we’d hang out every day (at Planet Smoothie, preferably). But, I’m a grown up. A brave, brave grown up. And I don’t need someone to come to the hospital for me for a tiny procedure.
I think, in actuality, it was more that I didn’t want to be “weak.” I didn’t like that there was this thing going on with my body (therefore my life) that I didn’t control. Maybe if nobody acknowledged it, and everybody was just quiet and left me alone, I wouldn’t really have a heart problem. That is how things work, right?
But you know how some parents are. It’s like a bat (child) signal goes off. “My baby might be in trouble? I’ll save you!” [*Music plays.*]
Even though I’m a grown up, by golly!
So, I work all weekend, and it goes fine. It’s a little rough being a production assistant who can’t run much. Luckily my main job was typing all day. So, it all worked out.
During the week that followed, the medicine seemed to be making me feel worse. (Remember in part 6 when I said I started out with a low heart rate and low blood pressure? That was possibly some foreshadowing I was working in there.)
By Thursday/Friday, it was getting to the point that walking half a mile utterly exhausted me. Standing up made me dizzy. You’d think I would’ve been smart enough to realize the medicine might be partially at fault, and to stop taking it (especially considering how much I hate medicine!). Or at least I might be smart enough to talk to my doctor. Well, you’d be wrong on both counts.
On Friday the 30th, I left my apartment to go to New York City to work another America’s Got Talent audition.
Does something happen on my way to leave? Find out next week.