Tomorrow it will be two weeks since the news that is heart transplant barreled in to my life and brain with less ceremony than a Mack truck. The first week I was pretty numb, I spent a few days laying in my bed, on my couch, and on the floor of various rooms of my apartment just kind of zoning out. I wasn’t even really thinking about the news. I wasn’t really thinking at all. If my mind was a house, nobody was home. When feelings did come back, they did not take their time. I haven’t had a lot of practice catching grand pianos falling from the sky, which may be why I didn’t handle ALL THE FEELINGS very well when they came, they weren’t light or easy to hold on to. They came fast, zero to sixty, and they couldn’t seem to take turns. Anger, and sadness teamed up and caused the bizarre, dark kind of amusement that makes people laugh at funerals. Then I would think I had pulled myself together only to find myself completely defeated again. I felt more than a little unhinged.

Once the feelings were back the flashbacks and panic attacks arrived as well. It should come as no surprise to anyone, that (largely due to my medical background) I have a long and well documented history of PTSD. The way I have explained it is this – over the last several years of trauma informed therapy I have moved my tolerance for triggers further and further from the edge, it takes larger or more frequent triggers to really cause much of a disturbance. Something may knock me back a little but I am not very close to the edge so my emotions generally stay in check. This doctors appointment punted me back to within striking distance of the edge, and every physical symptom I have started causing tremendous distress and panic.

One night, as I was falling asleep, something about how quickly I was drifting off scared me and I shot awake and into a panic attack because to me it felt too similar to how it feels to drift under anesthetic. I was terrified. I did not want to go to sleep, lose time, wake up confused and in pain. It took me an hour to use my tools and convince myself that I was safe and that I was just going to sleep for the night not having surgery. You would think this is obvious but you would be wrong, you cannot reason with a panicked brain.

Things are improving. I will be moving to twice a week therapy for a while to get these triggers under control. I am communicating my feelings to the best of my ability and giving myself both permission to feel things and permission to take some time off from my hyper-vigilance.

Soon I will have a heart cath, and meet with the Advanced Heart Failure and Transplant team. My team, my mom and sisters will be with me. I am so thankful to have them and that they have worked to understand as much as they can about how I process things and not rush or push. I have done really great changing some eating habits and watching my water intake and retention. There are good things among the hard stuff. I am back at work and for the most part I am able to do what I have always done with a few tweaks and accommodations here and there. I am thankful for the kindness and understanding of my friends and co-workers. I am going to do my best to keep posting here, both for myself and for all of you who wish to follow along. This could be a very long road. I’m straightening my cape. It doesn’t make me super human or anything, but man does it make an outfit pop!