I had such grand ambitions for yesterday. Since I’d already be up early for my prenatal physical [and Adam was being cared for] why not devote the day to getting all my ducks in a row before beginning work? Not quite.
The doctor whips out her trusty stethoscope and takes a listen to my heart. She looked alarmed and called for backup from a fellow physician. After they both hear my ticker they inform me that my heart has an irregular beat and they are concerned. From the looks on their faces prior to the big diagnostic reveal you’d think they were about to share their discovery that I was terminally ill. Their advice was to go immediately to the ER for an EKG to eliminate a potentially serious medical issue. Being the insanely overstressed person I am– all of the sudden I could see, hear, taste, smell, and touch just how in danger I was from dropping dead at any given second. And then I had a pelvic exam.
Alone and convinced of my imminent demise I walked across the street and got my EKG. My condition is called PVC [Google it if you really care] which is the fancy clinical term for extra and/or skipped heartbeats. It’s nothing serious, surprisingly common, and I don’t require any medication. Huge shocker– brace yourselves– it is exacerbated by stress.
Brandi was kind enough to call while I was there. Such kindness almost makes up for the fact that the new bus schedule started yesterday and I missed two busses and ultimately had to pay a cab to get me back to my apartment. C’est la vie.
With infinite love, gratitude, and respect,