1.2.3. freak out time

i was sitting on the couch next to ryan.
and he had been waiting to tell me something.
i am usually good about these things... about if someone is holding back on me.
i wait.

Ryan looks a bit concerned.

He then goes on to tell me that while he had been driving that day he had gotten light headed and thought he was going to pass out. he said he had pains in his chest. (insert dire panic here) He went on saying that he was currently feeling those chest pain again and he thought it would be a good idea to head to the doctor.

this is where my own inner panic started to take control.

What did I want to do???

run away.
cry.
scream. yell.

What did I have to do??

be a big girl.
take the lead.
control myself.
breathe.


My body was moving in a sort of slow motion inside my head even though I knew I was rushing around on the outside. We went in the car and i didn't want to talk. i didn't want the details. mainly because i was afraid of them. i was trying the best i could not to start having a panic attack or let my mind wander to a dark place. and i didn't want to have to take my medicine. i just wanted to be there for him. i wanted to be the normal girlfriend that he deserves to have that should handle these situations rationally and say "i am sure it is nothing, honey." i don't want to make his fears worse. just because the worst has happened to me before. and it's hard to believe in the "it's just nothing, my dear."

we went to a clinic.
and they sent us to the ER.
typical stuff.

i was doing ok.
i wasn't losing it.
i was very calm as we drove to the ER.
I started to plan out how it would pan out.
I already threw working the next day out the window.
I didn't want to text or call anyone and let them know we were going to the ER.
It was like I thought it I admitted it then something would happen. like i was jinxing everything. I didn't want to even believe this was happening. to take ryan to the ER because of chest pain.
As we were signing in to the ER I went to the restroom.
I started crying.
ya know... the ugly kind.

it lasted a minute.
i gave myself that much.

then i went back to ryan.

we made sure the nurses were aware of my past experience. you could tell i was taking it a little harder than most. i have this pasted face of fear. as much as i try and be the bigger person and take care of my boyfriend... i am a damaged and wounded grieving woman who cannot handle the loss of another person I am in love with. 

just walking through the hospital doors was like taking a knife and slowly pushing it through my chest.

it was absolute torture.

fast forward 4 hours......

....

after watching ryan get EKGs an bloodwork and Xrays.... we found out that he was in perfectly good health as far as his heart goes. he has some inflammation in his chest and will be on steroids for a week. It was an absolute relief to hear. although because of my past experiences i feel like ryan has been a little more paranoid about things and so we followed up with his doctor and have been taking every precaution possible to make sure he is 100%.

and poor ryan.... not feeling well and also upset for hurting me.
you could tell it was hard for him to tell me. you could tell it kills him to make me worry and hurt.
i hate that before his own health he puts my own feelings first.
he just wants me to feel good and be happy.
it's what we want for each other.

In my mind i started to run through what life would be like without this worry.
the only way that would be possible would be that if i didn't date ryan.
or anyone for that matter.
the only way to never be worried or hurt is to be single forever.
and i just don't think that is something i could ever do.

so, for now I am gonna take a risk at life. as i did before... and be with ryan.
he's worth it.
and he's healthy.
and we are in God's hands.

                                                   ryan being brave and taking it like a champ.

because I tend to worry....

I am sitting in the airport again.
And I am going to Vegas.
I should be more excited, right? Everyone wants to go to Vegas.... it's where all the cool kids go.
And it's not like I am not happy to see my sister. It's the highlight of the trip and all... but ... I still don't feel right. I have been sick for a few days now. My throat hurt, my head feels AWFUL... two migraines in a row.... stomach doesn't feel normal.... and I get lightheaded...
And I am super exhausted. I will be sleeping on the plane. Thats for sure.
I just wish I felt better. Then I would feel better about the trip.
But now I am about to get on a plane with more people. More germs. More sickness.

I feel like I have turned into a hypocondriac. I always feel like I am getting sick. But, it's not that. Because I AM getting sick more often.
I have been reading yet another one of my grief books and it says that people going through grief have a 25% less weakened immune system. Which scares the shit out of me. If John didn't die from a virus I wouldn't be like this. I would trust my body more. But, now I am always scared that I have something. I get nervous to go to sleep... I get nervous about taking naps... because I may never wake up. The nap John never woke up from. I can't imagine living the rest of my life like this. I hate sleeping alone in my house. What if something happens to me??? And there is no one to help me.
But then again there were 5 people in the house when John slipped away silently.
I feel so weak. I feel so frail. I am a fragile human being. I am a complicated organism.... yet I am so delicate. I sometimes think about my heart just beating on it's own. My blood knows where to go. My organs know their role. My brain saves information and gathers data. Although it's not doing it's best in the memory department right now.
John's death opened my eyes to just how fragile life is... and how it can be taken away even when we sleep silently. We don't have to be in vehicle accident, or do something risky... God can take us whenever he likes and however he chooses. You can't escape death.
And that scares me.
And so when I am sick I get nervous and super cautious.
A big part of me wants to run to the emergency room at every symptom I come across. I want reassurance that i am going to be ok. That I have nothing to worry about. That I am healthy and will live a long life. That I will be happy again and find love again. That I won't always feel like this. Like I am living in some sort of twilight zone movie. This is my real life. This is really happening to me...

I looked through pictures the other day... in a photo album that sits by the door. Some from just a couple years ago. They were such genuine pictures. My smile were bright and true. My skin looked good... I looked healthy and happy.
I see pictures of me now and cringe. I look different.
I look tired.
I look fat.
I look like I am faking through most of them.
I look worn.
I look different.

The shine has left my face. The light has left my skin.
I do take occassional pictures where I look better. When I find my times of happiness. Like with the beluga whales, or when I see friends, or travel to st. pete. I have the capability to go back to that light-hearted person again. Don't I? Is that allowed in the widow game? I sure hope it is. I sure hope I can manage to make that happen. It's going to take work... to bring back my spirit after the Hell it's been put through. It's worn down. I have to dig deep and find it. And find myself in the process. What will I find in this journey? What will be in the road... should I fear what I will find? Will I find anything that will come close to filling in that empty hole that sits in my chest?


I am going to go ahead and board the plane now... it's another part of the journey...
to go to a place where I shared memories with the love of my life... and make new memories with my sister. To find a scoop of happiness and live off of that for as long as I can.



ilymtli