My week started out somewhat comical though slightly annoying. On Monday, I went for a heart scan out in Elmhurst (which is a pain to get to). I was told to not eat or drink anything after midnight the night before, which for someone who needs to stay hydrated due to special kidney medicine, is not easy! I felt pretty miserable (and very dehydrated), so asked the doctor when I got there if I could at least have a little water. She told me "Oh, you can eat or drink anything you want to. Did the receptionist who called you tell you not to have anything? Oh, I keep telling her it's only the heart stress test that you can't eat or drink for. Sorry!" I would have punched the receptionist on my way back to the waiting room, but I was too tired/weak to do it... and was too overjoyed that I could run to the Dunkin Donuts across the street and feast!
After my feast (during which time the blood cell tracers they'd injected me with time had time to settle), I returned to the office to be injected with radioactive elements and then get scanned. After 20 minutes on the table, the doctor came over and started moving me around and hitting the injection area (OW!). After a few minutes she said, "I can't find your heart!" I'm pretty sure I have several exes who would testify that there isn't one in there. I'm also pretty sure that I, with no medical training, could find my heart using this million dollar machine. I even pointed to where it was on my body to help her. "SCAN HERE". Unfortunately, it seems I'd gotten a "compromised" dose of the radioative elements and would have to come back tomorrow to try it again. And yes, the next day, after eating breakfast (SCORE!), I returned and they were able to find my heart. She even printed me out a picture to prove it. I'm thinking of framing it and putting it on the wall as proof for future relationships.
Though I'd done some work from home on Monday and Tuesday (and throughout my weeks of medical fun), Wednesday marked my first day back in the office. Though I excitedly left my apartment that morning, I was soon slapped in the face by reality when the commute into the city proved to kick my ass. Carrying my lap top in one hand and a bag full of stuff that I needed in the other, I was in pain and exhausted by the time I reached Grand Central. I walked somewhat like a zombie to my office and collapsed into my desk chair. After a short rest, I was ready to tackle the day... which somehow turned into a 10 hour ordeal! WELCOME BACK! If I thought I was exhausted getting there, all I had to do was wait until it was time to leave to discover true exhaustion!
After discussing my day with my friend Heather, she got me to realize that I'm an "A Student". I push and push and push, go the extra mile, stay late, do the extra credit work even if I don't need to, and am not satisfied with anything except my absolute best. I need to smack that "A Student" down for a few months and learn to live by the limits I set for myself. It's not a matter of "I can't stay late to finish that project" but rather "I choose not to stay late to finish that project." I'm currently working the terms of all this out with my employer and hope that I can train myself to live by what we decide!
The other major realization of limits this week came also on Wednesday night. My friend Chris called at around 6 that evening to invite me with him to a surprise show that night. He wouldn't tell me what it was until he was sure he'd secured the tickets. He called back to say that he'd gotten (for free) 3rd row orchestra seats for the Lady Gaga concert at Radio City Music Hall that night! He was so excited... I was so excited... and then reality set in. I was exhausted after working a 10 hour day. I wasn't supposed to be in large crowds, especially those screaming (spitting), sweating, coughing, etc. And I had been having bad headaches from light and sound sensitivity, so a rock concert was probably not a smart idea. It KILLED me inside, but I told him to find someone else to go with. I know I made the right decision, but that doesn't make it any easier to do or think about later. There was definitely some angry crying that night at home. But hurdle crossed, lesson learned. Plus, I made Chris text me the next day and say that the concert sucked. It might be a lie, but I'm ok with that!
Despite these glaring reminders of my limitations, I was encouraged this week by being grateful for and enjoying the things that I can do. The rest of my work week was much more comfortable as I controlled my time and work load better. I had friends come over for dinner a couple of nights this week, and was happy to have the energy to eat, chat, and watch TV with them like normal. Friday night I had a great dinner with some NYU friends, and except for the fact that I wasn't drinking margaritas with them, it felt like a completely normal evening out. Earlier today I grabbed brunch with some friends in town from Rhode Island, and feel that I have plenty of energy to go out tonight and sing karaoke at my friend Mike's birthday party. These are things I certainly couldn't have done during the weeks of medical madness, and it's good to know that I'll feel up for these types of activities 75% of the days each coming month. So there's no Lady Gaga or drunken nights dancing (oh, I do love both those things)... but it could (and has been) a lot worse.
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