It was Valentine’s yesterday.
Everywhere I went this week has been surrounded by hearts.
And my heart has felt like it’s been breaking.
No not a metaphor, my heart literally breaking.
I went to the GP last week because I’ve been struggling mentally again, and whilst I was there I mentioned the chest pains I’ve been having.
A week before I’d had to walk up a hill. The weather was cold and wet, I had a backpack on to carry my stuff as the things I’d needed that day were heavier than I’d usually take.
By the time I was up the hill the pains in my chest were agony.
I tried to stop to catch my breath, then realised the train that I needed was just a few minutes from pulling away. So I tried to rush.
I knew I would suffer from my usual pain for pushing myself too hard. But this pain was new.
My GP suggested to take my blood pressure.
It was high. This was 4 days later and it was really really high.
So she booked me in for blood tests and an ECG.
I have heart strain.
My Dr believes it could have been brought on by a reaction from the withdrawals of the antidepressants. They have been known to affect people’s hearts, but that’s usually when your dose is increased, not when it’s being withdrawn.
I’m now on tablets to reduce my blood pressure and have an urgent referral to see the cardiologist. To make sure I don’t have the same condition that potentially killed my dad.
It’s ironic that I spent the last 12 months fighting thoughts that I wanted to die and now my body has taken over.
I’ve always struggled to pace, but now my life really depends on it.