C'est La Vie
If I'm gonna write about all of this, I gotta do it the right way, and put a timeline together.
I'm 22, and I've been on one hell of a ride. I used to be in college, and worked in a factory, lived on my own. I was doing fairly decent I'd say, I absolutely loved being independent. Everything went to shit starting Christmas 2019. I had moved out of the place I shared with my ex Brody, weeks prior. We had been broken up since that October, but I had to get through the semester. I was struggling, my ex was very abusive towards me, verbally/emotionally/sexually and told me to go die on numerous occasions, told me he was going to kill my cats, that he hated my family and friends. He was a plague I was happy to get rid of, I felt so relieved the day we broke up, even more so the day I moved out.
A few weeks after we had broken up I started a fling with my coworker Ryan, who was 32. He was a pleasant distraction from the stress of my ex and the pressure I felt that semester. He treated me kindly and respectfully. After work I'd often go over to his place for the peace, watching movies, his adorable dog, and of course to hook up. He was also a great distraction at work when things were getting dull.
So that Christmas I had made plans with Ryan for later in the evening after we had seen our families separately. We were going to take a walk downtown and see the Christmas lights, then exchange small gifts with one another. Even though things were supposed to be 'casual', something he'd always bring up and remind me of. I spent the day excited to see him, he said he'd message me when he came home and then I could come over. He never did send the message, and ditched out plans. What a shitty thing to do on Christmas.. so I spent a few hours with my friend instead. After that I went on a drive and just let myself cry, it was 2 in the morning. Eventually it turned into sobbing and I found myself stopped in the park n' ride to compose myself. I was there for no more than half an hour, when four cops pulled in behind me. One of them flashed their lights and came up to my window, asked for my license as I sat there with mascara and more tears streaming down my face. He then asked me if I was gonna kill myself, to which I replied in shock, absolutely not. This process took longer than what I would have liked, so when I got the clear to leave I zoomed the hell out of there. I sat and thought to myself "It can't get much worse than this, right?" I was wrong. Because I had been around a lot of people around that time, I caught something that got me sick. That was the beginning of my real nightmare.
So for the next few days I wasn't feeling well, and Ryan apologized to me at work. He invited me over for New Years, to which I happily replied yes. I came over that night and we just hung out, but I couldn't help but feel like something was wrong - wrong with me, and something wrong with him. I tried to just shake the nerves off with a glass of champagne he gave me. It only made me feel worse, and I got drunk way faster that I should have. We hung out for a few more hours before calling it a night, and the next morning he kissed me goodbye. Said we'd hangout that weekend, we never did. For starters, he was still talking to his ex the entire time we were screwing around, and I found he had severe alcoholism, like drinking a bottle of brandy straight each week to deal with his issues alcoholism. So the following Monday he told me at work that he wanted to end things, and because I was naive enough to like him this hurt me. That Thursday I went to collect my blankets from his place and essentially say goodbye. It was hard goodbye, but I understood why it had to be done. He gave me a tight hug and we shed some tears, he kissed me one more time, told me to be strong.. and off I went. That's where I'd like to say my normal life ended.
After that night I noticed I still wasn't feeling well, and chalked it up to anxiety having to see him at work. But my throat was so sore it felt like I swallowed razor blades, and I lost my appetite, I lost fifteen pounds in the span of a month. I was becoming dizzy at work, and had more migraines. I didn't know what was wrong. This continued into February, until one day I felt so weak my dad had to take me to the emergency room. I blew out my vein during the labs, and they hooked me up to a saline IV drip. When they came back with the results they told me to follow up with my primary and that everything seemed to look good. I got in and saw my PCP near the end of February and she said I was borderline iron deficient, and probably had SVT. Told me it would all go away. Then March came, the world changed and so did I. I was getting worse and didn't understand why, was I not getting enough sleep? was I still stressed? anxious? I couldn't tell. Then the pandemic came. I was hoping my work would shut down so I could get a break or something- anything. But during the first week of April I nearly passed out at work multiple times that week, and I knew I had to take a leave of absence. So that's exactly what I did, and thought I'd be well in 2 months then go back to work. They thought I left because of Ryan, but I didn't.
That's not what happened. I continued to feel worse throughout April, and became more fearful of my body. The diagnosis was definitely wrong but I couldn't go to urgent care because of Corona. I waited, and waited, and got an appointment with my PCP again in May. Upon entering they would take your pulse and the nurse who did looked concerned when she got a reading of 155bpm. My doctor ordered an Ekg, a Holter monitor, and an echocardiogram immediately. I was fucking scared. But then it happened, I had one of my heart episodes while wearing the Holter and a few weeks after that I had answers. They called me at 9am on a Friday in late May, said they caught my heart rate at 280bpm, 280? How am I not dead? I was immediately referred off to electrophysiology. I got an appointment in early June. There they diagnosed me with two things, SVT (heart arrhythmia) and POTS (Autonomic Nervous System disorder). I was told they could fix my SVT with a catheter ablation, and that POTS was incurable, the thing causing most of my issues.
Fast forward to the end of the summer, I had scheduled my heart ablation and tilt table test for Mid September. I was still getting worse by the day, and the day my surgery came I thought I was going to die because of how bad the symptoms were. No food, no liquids for 12 hours prior to my surgery. It was hell, my body was trembling and my heart rate was hitting 160bpm upon standing. I had become suicidal in recent weeks, and bedridden. They hooked my IV up, and put me under conscious sedation to do my ablation. They make an incision near your groin, and snake 4 catheter wires up into your heart through a blood vessel. They did that, and then triggered my arrhythmia. They successfully got rid of my ablation, and started me on a betablocker for my POTS symptoms. It helped, a tiny bit. I had such a rough recovery, my heart would start pounding at 150 out of nowhere while lying down and I became fearful of going to sleep. Often times I would have nightmares, and I constantly felt anxiety from my symptoms. I was bedridden for months, becoming more isolated from the world. It was even worse because of covid, if that hadn't been around my friends could have at least came to see me sometimes. I would have gave anything for a hug during those dark times. But living with my mom, who has no empathy, I never got one.
I got a little bit better starting in December, and I wasn't as dizzy anymore, I could look at my computer and focus. I felt a bit more human again. Then 2021 came, and I had some hope that maybe things would get better. They kinda did, I got in my car and drove around at times, I had a bit more energy, but I was nowhere near the person I was before I got sick. My mental health still tanked, remembering day in and day out that this was my life now - and I had to watch everyone around me prepare for college graduation. Something I was supposed to do with them.
The future looks awfully bleak to me, I see nothing but poverty and struggle. I no longer have goals or dreams, my disorder refuses to improve even with treatment. I don't see myself ever finishing my bachelors degree or having a career, I'll probably never date again, marriage and kids out of the question. I wanted to buy a house one day, but that sure as shit ain't happening. I'm happy for my friends though, but I just know in my heart once they leave the state like they intend, we will drift apart, we won't have things in common anymore. I won't be able to relate to their lives. The hardest one of these is my ex (a different one) turned friend. He's planning to leave, he worries too much though. He thinks he's somehow not enough but always goes above and beyond what's expected of him. He's kind, friendly, pleasant to be around, funny, optimistic, helpful, a hard worker, compassionate, determined. Sure he has faults like any human, but his positive traits sure do outshine all of that, he was in a frat and had an internship. He's more than qualified to do anything he pleases. I know he's going to get everything he wants in life and more, he will be content, I just know it. But I can't stay friends with him forever, I don't want to let him down.. and I know I will. I don't want to burden him with my trainwreck of a life anymore.
So who knows, I don't think things will get much better than this. I can't have faith it'll be okay, I gotta be realistic with what I'm working with here.