Swiper, No Swiping

I have put off this blog for months. Here I've been, ruminating about it, talking about it in therapy, even suggesting it as part of "homework" to boost the urgency, so maybe the expectation/curiosity of someone else would light the fire I can't seem to light on my own. What is so difficult to admit/express/share on here when I have talked about having my legs in stirrups and speculums and so much more? The answer is dating; why it terrifies me, why I shield myself from the pain of it and why I don't feel worthy of romantic love.

Most everyone has their own grab bag of insecurities to use as talismans from pain. We hold these up (not attractive enough, finances, age, too fat, too thin, imposter syndrome, job security, status) as proof to either not try for a desired goal or as the long long division data that justifies why it will just never happen for you. For myself, I tack on my health to this pile of human mental detritus. My health has turned into not only a bludgeon with which to beat myself but a dome of twisted security. I need to find a way to crack the dome.

I hear it more often than I advertise, "Why are you single?" or "Why don't you date?" The hefty nitty-gritty answer to that would take up many and sundry blog posts, but to attempt a summation; dating is selling yourself and I feel I have a product that comes with too much damage. I can hear the objections already from the people that love me. "You have so much to offer" and "Do you know what a catch you are?" This is about honesty so I will admit this is where the bludgeon comes out and I start the internal tallying of my "Why Would Anyone Volunteer For This Job" list. It is a thing. I do it well. It has served to protect me for nearly twenty years. I don't anticipate it ever going away, fully. What I am trying to see in my future is my striving to lessen its power. That cracking the dome notion I mentioned earlier? I was thinking maybe starting with a dating app.

Now, this is where I get completely frozen with fear. I know nothing about them (the last time I attempted an online date was when I had AOL and it was a disaster) and when I mentioned dating apps to some neighbor friends I got "Don't do it, all they wanna do is f@#k" which wasn't reassuring, in the least. This is the interactive portion of this blog. I await your stories; horror, love, comedy, drama. I want to know if you love or hate dating apps or if indifference rules the day (as it has for me.)

The only promise I am making to myself as of now is that once I collect all the goods from your recommendations/warnings I will at the very least install an app. That is a big-time step for me. This blog is a step for me. I am also thinking of this as possible material for future blogs and other content because my mind goes directly to the learning experience of it all, of course. Then, after I have an actual app installed, there's the next step. Who knows, by this time next year I might know what all this swipe right, swipe left business is.

Bottom Of My Heart

Update on The Unidentified Valvular Object: there is none. I had a TEE yesterday ( transesophageal echocardiography) and there was no sign of what my former Cardiologist claimed to have seen on my other echo. I started crying right there on the table, mostly out of frustration that this whole thing had to happen in the first place. 

My nurse Miriel was most likely the sweetest nurse ever. She hugged me and kissed me on the cheek after she walked my Mom and I out of the hospital.

I have a new team behind me. People I trust. What a great feeling.

After, my Mom and I went to Red Robin for a celebratory lunch where bottomless fries are much easier to swallow than a gastroscope. 

Waitlist

I haven't written here in quite a while. Blocked, intimidated, busy, shy: there are many words to describe the motivations that kept me away. There are also many things happening behind the scenes, physically and emotionally. My physical health seems to be a never ending series of unfortunate events. I have made them the priority in my life, to battle. Somehow convinced that if I keep fighting (emotionally as well) that somehow I will magically win. I am nearly 48 years old and it seems I need to learn that I am never going to "win." It is the need to not feel so small and out of control when all of this is happening where you have never ever had control. As my therapist keeps kindly reminding me, acceptance isn't giving up, so I am learning to accept that I need to feel better about never feeling better. Flip the focus so I use what I can control, my mind, and find the best ways to live my best life my way.

The past few months have been very busy with ER visits, multiple tests at the U and then just last week I had an echo with a stress test at McKay Dee. After the echo and during the stress test my cardiologist waltzes in and informs me they found a Fibroelastoma in my Aortic Valve. He ordered blood cultures. Then he leaves. Waltzed out. No follow up. No plan. No size. Nothing. The next day when I went for my cultures, they were ordered incorrectly. A nurse from the office called two days later and had no idea about anything other than my stress test showed no ischemia which is GREAT!

We have an appointment at the U on February 5 with a new doc. I've had my test results sent to him and I'm done with my old one. This whole thing makes me sad and bewildered. I feel so many balls were dropped and I am too exhausted to pick them up and throw them at his head.

My new personal goal now is to write more. Stop talking myself out of it everytime "No one wants to hear that" "boring" "it's already been written." Sure, I may feel like crap when I write but I can't keep waiting to feel better. I've waited long enough.