It has been a rough week for me this week. First there’s the stress of worrying about what they’ll found when they probe my heart Tuesday. Then there’s the stress I placed on myself while writing the Chapter 8 story of the Never Gone series I posted this week. The heart cauterization procedure is due to an “anomaly” they found during my Nuclear Stress Test last month. Of course anyone would be stressed about that if facing a similar situation. But I was a little surprised when I was triggered while writing the Chapter 8 story. I suppose it comes from the fact that the incident actually happened to me in my real life some 30 years ago.
When writing the piece I simply thought the incident would add a bit of drama to the story. But what I didn’t anticipate was how triggering the incident be after so many years. But boom there it is the same emotions and fears I experienced so long ago, now staring me in the face…again. Two decades ago when I was first diagnosed with Panic and Anxiety Disorders, I was told that it wasn’t PTSD. That PTSD was reserved for those that experienced life threatening trauma. But now the word seems to get tossed around in a broader context, so now I wonder if I have it. But I’m sure not going to try and self-analyze myself in 400 words or less.
Still it’s been awhile since I’ve had such lingering aftereffect from a memory. I’m hoping now that that chapter has quite literally been written. That I can now rest during the night, but if the last several nights are any indication, I doubt it. I guess the only thing to do now is go through my pre-op prep the next two days and wait and see what my cardiologist finds. Till then at least I got football the occupy my mind while this lingering drizzle continues to fall outside my window.
When writing the piece I simply thought the incident would add a bit of drama to the story. But what I didn’t anticipate was how triggering the incident be after so many years. But boom there it is the same emotions and fears I experienced so long ago, now staring me in the face…again. Two decades ago when I was first diagnosed with Panic and Anxiety Disorders, I was told that it wasn’t PTSD. That PTSD was reserved for those that experienced life threatening trauma. But now the word seems to get tossed around in a broader context, so now I wonder if I have it. But I’m sure not going to try and self-analyze myself in 400 words or less.
Still it’s been awhile since I’ve had such lingering aftereffect from a memory. I’m hoping now that that chapter has quite literally been written. That I can now rest during the night, but if the last several nights are any indication, I doubt it. I guess the only thing to do now is go through my pre-op prep the next two days and wait and see what my cardiologist finds. Till then at least I got football the occupy my mind while this lingering drizzle continues to fall outside my window.
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