On Friday, after my last meeting and having literally talked non-stop for the last three hours I drove home in silence–just trying to catch my breath. That happens sometimes, used to happen a lot when I used to meet clients in person a lot more. Talking a lot tends to mess up my breathing pattern, which makes my heart race, and then eventually I have to stop and re-establish the idea with myself that I do, in fact, know how to breathe.
But then, last week was filled with a whole lot of “I think I know, but do I really know anything at all?”
It started on Wednesday night. R.J and I were heading out to meet his mom for dinner at our favorite Greek restaurant in East Boca. My heart was still messed up pretty badly so I ended up taking another beta blocker on the ride over. During dinner I felt so much better I went ahead and stuffed my face. Unfortunately the food didn’t seem to want to vacate my throat and chest, forcing me to sit upwards all night long and place a long-suffering call to my doctor in the morning about what we could do to find out why the food was not leaving my throat.
So he ordered a swallowing test and I got in my car and drove to the clinic and met with a speech pathologist who had me chew chicken covered with liquid barium solution while I stood in an x-ray machine. Resulting in this cool little clip. (Well, for you it’s just a picture, but it was a video x-ray. Neat)
So the speech pathologist, looking at the x-ray with me said that the food was stopping (very, very briefly) halfway down my throat and then going down. Hmm, I thought, and that’s pretty much what it feels like. Except it feels like it’s stuck there--so that really explains…nothing. My doctor also called to say that the radiologist said it looked fine too. So I have no clue why I’m still feeling like I’m holding half my breakfast hostage in my esophagus. Just another joy of dysautonomia…I guess?
Then, mid-week, I got a package in the mail.
And my first thought was: Oh god, no. Did I have Internet access in Texas after I took that Xanax to get on the plane? What did I order from AliExpress?
And, dreading the possibility of having possibly ordered 5,000 earring backs from China–I very carefully opened the package.
And what do you know? It was a fucking party in a box.
Did I mention that I’ve been selected as one of the finalists for “Best Kept Secret” in Wego Health‘s blog contest?
Well, I was.
They’re having a webinar conference on Thursday night to reveal the winners and I’ll be there with my party hat on and my sparkling cider in my fancy flute preparing my shocked face for when I win.
So, back to Friday night. After I caught my breath and put on my yoga pants–I had my monthly meeting of the minds with my equally anti-social friends. And by meeting of the minds I mean several glasses of cheap wine, Uno, and about four goat cheese pizzas. There may have also been some gummy worms, pumpkin pie and bear cuddling.
And lastly, lets talk about R.J. and how he feels about making decisions.
NOT VERY GOOD.
See, R.J has a history of getting paralyzed by the idea of having to make a commitment to something…be it Chipotle or La Spada’s Subs, the quilted toilet paper or the two-ply, West Wing re-runs or Super Natural. The point is, when it came time for him to make a major purchase on a new television, he was kind of stalling.
Like, we’ve been looking at TV’s since December kind-of-stalling.
On Saturday we found ourselves at Best Buy for a total of two hours, by which time I was hanging on to the last dregs of energy I had left, slumped over a theater-style leather chair in one of their show rooms while R.J perused the aisles of open boxes.
After much searching, and online-review checking, after many holiday sales and open box specials–I’m proud to say that he finally, finally did it.
And then we needed to choose a TV stand.
So about four hours later my living room looked like this:
And I thought to myself: we’ve already met the milestone for today. I want to go to bed.
But R.J was having a moment of empowerment! He had just fought his first great retail monster and now he was convinced that he could put together our new TV stand and entertainment unit in one night–despite the fact that it was in about 47 tiny pieces all over our downstairs.
I helped by sitting on the couch with my laptop and pointing out that he still hadn’t dumped the garbage like he’d promised.
But he worked tiresomely–slaved, one might say–for the next several hours until finally:
(I apologize for the crap quality picture, but R.J says we’re no longer allowed to turn on lights in the living room because we got a TV with an LED screen and it should be the main focus, always.)
And that was my week in a nutshell.
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