Every day you see qoutes and messages about being a strong woman. This is something that I am a true believer of and try to instill in my daughters.
However as I have gotten older I have found that I am just not near as strong as I once was. I find that instead of fighting for what I believe in, it is so much easier to just just not have an opinion at all. Today while at my counselor’s office a light went off, where in the hell have I gone? For the past couple of month’s I have struggled with communication. I get up the courage to say something and then it gets shot down and I just want to crawl into a hole, by myself. Why is that? Why don’t I want to fight, why don’t I want to have an opinion, why do I just want to accommodate? These are the questions that my real counselor (aka: my best friend) asked after my therapy session. The answer is I don’t want to disappoint anyone. It doesn’t matter what it is doing to me as long as whomever else isn’t disappointed and thid killing me. My mental self is taking a beating and I am the only one to blame.
Communication was my major in college and of all things this is the one thing that I should know something about. I have no problem when it comes to communication in the workplace and with friends, but when it comes to my immediate family then you might as well just throw it out the damn window. My counselor suggested that I use marriage communication such as “I feel like x, when this happens.” Well yes this type of communication is great and more than likely very successful for some. But right now I just want to scream the following words to who ever will listen. DO YOU HEAR ME, REALLY HEAR ME?
I know I will get through this and become even stronger through this life lesson and possibly still learn something, but right now do you hear me?
For some, Sunday morning is a ritual of attending Church, or tending to the livestock, going for a walk, having brunch with friends and family, finishing up chores around the house. Sunday morning for me is trying my very best to maintain a ritual that was instilled into me at a young age. Enjoying an hour and half of peace before starting my day, by partaking in the CBS show “Sunday Morning” along with my choice drink. These days my drink is coffee and the amount of “Sunday Morning” that is actually watched is limited to maybe twenty minutes. The time is limited due to the three kids and two dogs wanting anything from breakfast to one of the other kids to stop touching them. My significant other and I joke on a regular basis about what life was like before dogs and kids. Prior to kids it was sleeping late, brunch, “Sunday Morning “, taking the kids to the dog park, long drives into the country. Now it is breakfast, lots of noise, the start of crying for the day and a little bit of “Sunday Morning “. What ever your ritual is embrace it, smile while it is happening, giggle with the kids, get lots of hugs in and know that you can catch up on “Sunday Morning” after everyone has gone to bed.
In all honesty most people hear the words Hypertrophic Obstructive Cardiomyopathy too late. The silent killer when it comes to hearts.
This past year I had the pleasure of hearing the words Hypertrophic Obstructive Cardiomyopathy in reference to myself after going in to my general practitioner for a check up. Not what you expect to hear at the ripe age of 37.
I hadn’t been feeling well, very tired and out of breath, thought it could be a quick fix of adjusting my thyroid medicine and taking some time to focus on myself. As a mother of three lovely children, this isn’t what I was accustomed to doing. Letting the laundry pile up and taking a shower if I am lucky once a week, getting the children to wherever they needed to be and working a full-time job is what i had become accustomed to. Just thinking about it makes me tired. But getting that phone call that I needed to come in right away following an echocardiogram, really started my head spinning.
Trying to keep my cool while the Cardiologist is explaining what he suspects is Hypertrophic Obstructive Cardiomyopathy wasn’t the easiest things to do, however if there is a time for a game face, this was it. This game face stayed on and positive for a couple of weeks while the doctor ran every test possible to confirm that yes Hypertrophic Obstructive Cardiomyopathy was in fact the diagnosis. Then it was time to bring in the big guns of cardiologist to take over my case, since it is so rare. The big guns didn’t waste anytime getting to the issue at hand. With a heart working at 20% capacity, it is time to have surgery.
The surgery itself was quick but not without pain. Both the physical and mental pain of this surgery makes you start to rethink everything in life. The physical pain I was prepared for, the mental pain should be a requirement for doctors to discuss prior to the surgery. The mental changes alone make the word Hypertrophic Obstructive Cardiomyopathy hard to swallow.
More to follow on the progress recovery of Hypertrophic Obstructive Cardiomyopathy!