The first thing I noticed in the hospital, as I lay at about a 45-degree angle in that bed, was the bells. As I listened, some in my room synchronized with others in other parts of the ER, drifting apart and coming together with a somewhat soothing regularity. I also had to contend with the calls on the intercom, often in code: “Cassidy, you have a call on 5 7 8 3 6.” And on and on. Sleep? Hardly, especially as the automatic blood pressure cuff squeezed at chosen intervals.

Yes that’s right, I made a second trip to the Emergency room in two years, this time mainly because on waking the morning of Saturday the 24th, my heart was just about pounding its way out of my chest. A rather vivid nightmare had launched me out of bed and towards the bathroom to relieve myself, and as I moved my rate jumped to frightening levels. I told myself, Just lay back down and it should begin to decelerate. But when it didn’t, a sort of panic feedback loop resulted that made me incredibly nervous, until I finally made the tough decision to wake my wife at 5:30 AM and head on in.

Of course by the time I arrived at Wake Med Hospital, things in my chest were back to relatively normal. Even so, I stayed in that cold Emergency department room (door closed by the doctor to protect against the frightening and surging Delta variant of COVID, for almost 6 hours. In addition to the blood pressure cuff, I had some 12 leads attached to my chest to measure whatever was happening in there, the pulse monitor on my finger, and a couple of blood draws done. The second was completed in my hand by an intern, and honestly it didn’t feel good. That spot still sort of hurts.

Thankfully, nothing unusual was found while in that setting. Still, I am going to visit a cardiologist (again) just to be sure that nothing is going on that should get treatment.

Why am I telling you this story? Because I, along with those at the hospital, believe that the primary reason I may have experienced this episode is mental health/anxiety. It builds so slowly and insidiously that one barely notices until physical health effects are felt. Ever since my heightened awareness, I have noticed that I tend to have fewer heart surges (noting that on Saturday night after my discharge I nearly had one again due to the anxiety over that morning’s trauma). As such, I have really started doing the deep-breathing exercises my Apple Watch recommends, which I’ve found can often help me relax whenever I find myself in stressful situations which is nearly constantly as an adult right?

Especially as we are still battling this seemingly endless pandemic, I implore you to be aware of how your own mental health, and by extension physical health, is being effected, and take time to take care of yourself. And as far as I go, keep me in mind next Wednesday as I go into the cardiology office and hope that there are no bigger issues afoot. I guess I am just glad that I can get these things looked at now, and while I think our medical system is good, I very much decry the costs with which one must contend while trying to simply stay alive.

My employer decided, after some long, hard thinking, to host a COVID vaccination clinic so that those of us who hadn’t gotten poked yet could safely do so. As soon as this option was mentioned, I signed up. I do not, after all, know when another opportunity might come for me to take this important step not only to improve my own chances of avoiding this nat virus, but also to make that much more of a dent in the still-too-high overall case count.

I guess because they did not wish to waste doses, people who were not employees were allowed in to get shots as well. Last I heard, we had 150 available, and only 115 employees had signed up. (I bet the others who came in were wide-eyed at all the blind folks roaming around, the modified paths with variable flooring and low plastic fences to keep us all in line that make me feel like we’re in a cattle chute, and the unusual-looking machinery).

And speaking of cattle chutes, that’s how the process of vaccinating all those folks in a relatively short time felt to me. My scheduled appointment time was 2:00, but I was not surprised when someone came to get me at 1:18 to “pre-register”. They tried to collect my basic information at a table set up right in the middle of the factory floor, which meant not only was I competing with pounding said strange machinery, but also with very high ceilings which does odd things with the sound. I could barely hear myself speak, let alone what the woman sitting there was asking me. We managed though, I signed the consent form, and took a seat in my second chair after having arrived over there.

Four chairs, two rooms, and a somewhat disconcerting number of people later, (I do think we were fairly distanced at least), I was finally ready to be jabbed. Ever the baby, I had to psych myself up as she said “3,2,1,” and popped the needle in. I was then given a fact sheet, a card that noted how long I needed to wait to watch for reactions (mine was 30 minutes, since I noted a Penicillin allergy) moved through two more chairs and left in what was formerly the break room but had been re-purposed as the “Observation room”. Makes it sound important, doesn’t it. Anyhow, I regretted not having brought my phone along, because what was I to do to kill the time! Think? Listen to people gossip? Yup.

It’s hours later now, and so far so good. The only issue I have is soreness at the site of the shot, but I fully expected that. My second dose of the Moderna vaccine will be on April 26th. If you are able to safely, I hope you can get vaccinated too, and especially as we’re seeing the numbers start to inch back up again. I feel very sad that we can’t do anything for those many who have already lost their lives, but perhaps the best tribute to them would be to get past this thing and retain some normalcy. I am looking forward to the things I’ve not done in a year, such as: eating in a restaurant, having a hot beverage at a coffee shop while absorbing the writing vibe, riding public transit and enjoying the background hum of my local community, and going to the occasional live sporting event again. Here’s hoping! Continue reading →

In this year where any kind of disaster imaginable seems possible, one could hardly blame me for being a little jumpy. Over the past couple of weeks, at my job’s temperature checks, I have realized that my core body temperature is almost always below normal. Well especially in the morning, as it often clocks in at 96.7 degrees, and I feel that cold when sitting in my room after dressing for the day.

On top of that, my nostrils have been a bit drippy and my throat congested for some time now. When this happened last year, I simply assumed that it was some kind of allergic reaction that would eventually calm down, as it did. But this year, with the ever-present threat of Covid-19, I was wary.

So all of those things converged this morning, as my temperature bottomed out at 96.1, and I was so cold that my hands shook and teeth rattled. I also felt so congested in my head that it seemed my brain was swimming. I am aware that this is probably not Covid, but on calling out of work to get the sleep I needed I decided I should get myself tested for the benefit of my coworkers, if nothing else.

And on that sleep? Ah, it was glorious. After some Covid-induced dreams, I finally, wonkily emerged around 12:30 and stepped outside for some air. I was relieved to learn that my temperature had increased to 98.4, and I certainly was warmer. But I still felt so yucky that my time outside did not last long.

So, my wife had made the testing appointment at a Cary, N.C. Urgent Care center at 3. After running some other errands, she drove me over to the clinic. This was not a drive-up appointment, but rather we were to enter the room to have the test administered. I was surprised by this, but admired the way they had things working.

First, we called a number and checked in, at which time we were told to wait in the car until contacted. It took about 12 minutes to get the call, with the office having texted a link that would have let me see my spot in line. Their texting was used well and kept the patient abreast on all progress throughout the experience.

Once we entered, with the support nurse holding the door ajar so we needed to touch nothing, she first asked about symptoms and then affixed something to my pinky finger, I think she said to test blood flow. Then another quick temperature. Check, still holding steady at 98. And finally, the real fun started.

Another man, in what capacity I am not entirely sure but I suppose a doctor-type person, came in to do The actual test. “It’s not too bad,” he said even as he offered me a Kleenex. Then, after helping me extract the mask from its entanglement with my hearing aids, he stuck the swab into my nose.

Ok, that’s it right?” I thought. But no! It went back, and back, and back, and surely took some of my whatever lobe when extracted. “Ow ow ow!” I said as I tried to keep myself from separating from the swab. Whew! That may have popped something into place, because much of my congestion has actually stopped, at least temporarily. My nose still hurts a bit, but yeah I guess it’s survivable.

And now I wait for probably three days. He said if it’s positive, then I’ll hear from the health department and that center. If negative, I’ll get a letter in the mail in approximately 2 weeks. We’ll see. If nothing else, it’ll give me a little peace of mind for as long as that lasts. I’m sure there are thousands of other tales of those who have been tested, many less dramatic than mine. But this is my quintessential 2020 story, and let’s hope it’s the last I have! Maybe things will settle down now?