I got one of those.
It's been hard to process that the cardiologist I'd seen since I was about 19 years old could have missed a leaky aortic valve on top of my SVT. So now, with a new and better MD, we go through more in-depth testing to see if I need surgery, or an implantable monitor, or something else entirely. My new cardiologist compared my heart to an electrical box with sparking wires just hanging out, and is worried that all of this adds up to something really dangerous.
It's a relief to finally have someone on your team. But...
It's one medical appointment after another, one specialist after another this month.
It's exhausting trying not to feel really, really down with all of that. With the reality of what this means. I keep thinking it's unfair, but it's unfair and worse for everyone who gets a life cut short. So you battle to find some kind of medium between utter despair and unrealistic hope. To find your everyday again, but with the added spark of knowing every moment is borrowed.
And, as I've mentioned before, you start uncovering bravery in places you hoped to never tap into.
And you get a fucking mohawk.