So on Friday I woke up at 3am with chest pressure, unable to lie down or relax because I felt like my heart was getting squeezed to the point of exploding. My husband drove me to the emergency room where they took my pulse, blood pressure, and temperature, and discharged me. I kept asking them to explain what was causing the chest pressure, the doctor didn't know and didn't seem to care. He told me I was probably just having a "panic attack". Um... no. I told him I wasn't, he didn't care.
So I go home, still with chest pressure, not sure what to do. One of the other teachers took over my Seminary class and I just spent the day trying to cope. I got nothing done. No writing, no reading, no nothing.
That evening my husband took me back to the hospital. I explained that the chest pressure wasn't gone. Finally they did an EKG and a blood test and took me seriously (though the same doctor maintained that I had just been having a panic attack that morning. He's an idiot - and if he's reading this, I really don't mind him seeing that!) The final answer, not sure. I go in for an echo tomorrow with a cardiologist.
It could be as simple as the baby pushing on my heart real badly, it could be something more sinister. What upsets me about all this is how long it took to get taken seriously. I haven't gotten anything done since then, writing wise. I feel like I'm just slowly working my way back. Today I managed laundry. Tomorrow perhaps I'll manage some writing?