So I’m in the hospital. I feel okay now but still have to stay overnight.

I went to work this morning exhausted, feeling kind of depressed but relieved it was Friday night. I was looking forward to the glass of wine and some Netflix time with my husband in the evening.

Instead, while at work about lunchtime, I started having intense chest pain. It was unlike anything I have ever felt before. It spread up to my jaw and into my back, pressing on me. I was lightheaded. Checked online, hm, these are some of the common symptoms that women have with heart attacks. But I couldn’t be having a heart attack, could I? I have no history of heart problems. I have never smoked. I don’t have high blood pressure. True, I am very stressed out, and true, I don’t get much exercise these days because I work all the time. I could definitely stand to lose twenty thirty pounds. I talked to my colleague, what should I do? She told me to go see a doctor. I hesitated, “It’s probably nothing. I’m being paranoid. What a hassle to go to a doctor. I have a lot of work this afternoon.” But then she asked me what I would tell her if our roles are reversed, and of course, I’d tell her to go to the ER and check it out.

Why is it so hard to take care of myself in the ways I would strongly urge others to do for themselves? Despite the discomfort about making a big deal of it, I agreed to go.

But no way was I going to call 911. That was just too much drama. I called my husband. He came to pick me up and take me to the ER. By that time, the chest pain had lifted though I still had pain in my back and jaw. EKG looked good. Initial screening for whatever those enzymes are that tell if you had a heart attack looked good. But apparently they don’t always show up right away. Hence I am typing this in a hospital room waiting for further blood tests late tonight and a stress test in the morning. I bet you it was something else, something minor.

In the meantime, no wine and Netflix for me tonight. I’m seriously disappointed.