Day 024: I’m Not Okay. But I’ll Be Okay.
[For the record, you probably don’t want to read this. There aren’t going to be any jokes. I’m in no joking mood. It’s definitely way too personal, but if you know anything about my writing, it’s that I don’t give a shit. I was told once to write about what scares me, and it’s been my mission for 20 years. And right now, I’m scared and crying in a laundromat. So I might as well write about this, because I can’t muster the courage to complain about pop culture.]
It’s just a rainy-ass afternoon. Rachel and I sit silently on the couch. She’s doing her daily Animal Crossing chores and I’m playing The Show on my brand new gaming monitor. This sounds like the perfect time and on paper, it probably is, but my mind reels elsewhere. There’s definitely something wrong with me. I’m not okay. I was too panicked to choke down my breakfast, but I got halfway there. I can’t even focus on the game. I’m just striking out wildly at even the lamest of pitches. After 7 no-hit innings, I forfeit. I turn to Rachel and my eyes well up.
“I think it’s about time I go to CityMD.”
The rain pours harder the farther I walk. By the time I get there, my hoodie is soaked. Luckily, I’m able to walk right in, much to the chagrin of the ten people that show up right after me that have to wait outside. The receptionist asks what I’m there for and I can’t muster out a clear answer. My voice keeps cracking. I’m suddenly reminded of all the hard times I had as a kid, when I was inconsolable and approached by a teacher. “Why are you crying, Troy?”
“I think there’s something wrong with my heart…”
That’s something that I don’t want to admit, but it’s true. I’ve been experiencing heart palpitations since the fateful day that I ate Space Salami. For the first day, I blamed it on said Space Salami. But then when it happened again the following night, panic set in. And it hasn’t relented. But I haven’t felt anything else. I don’t feel sick or dizzy or lightheaded. My heart rate isn’t even dangerously fast. It’s just…strong. And somehow, I’ve worried myself into this walk-in clinic. Shaking, crying, glasses fogged, surely being stared at. I’m bad at seeing doctors. I’m afraid of them judging me, I’m afraid of their bills and worst of all, I’m afraid of the truth. But if Rachel didn’t decide to go to a CityMD when things got weird, she wouldn’t be alive today. And I would like to be alive for her, so here we are.
In the end, they didn’t find anything wrong. Aside from running a little fast, there was nothing about the EKG that was cause for concern. I have a healthy heart that pumps a healthy blood pressure. They took my blood, they’ll run some tests, I have an appointment with a cardiologist next week. But my heart still beats hard. For what, I don’t know. I’ll try living like this. I really have no other choice. Maybe if I stop letting it bother me, it’ll go away. Or maybe the tests will find something. Or the cardiologist will wonder why I didn’t come sooner. I really don’t know. The only thing I know for certain is that I’m not okay. But I’m taking steps to be okay. It will put me thousands of dollars in debt, but at least I’ll know the truth. Because as much as I’m sick of this world, I don’t plan on leaving it anytime soon.
If for some reason you made it this far, thank you. You’re the reason why I keep writing every day. I love you. Take care of yourself.