Fingers Crossed...When "Everything is Fine" isn't the Answer You Need...

Today - literally today, as in 12 hours from now - I'm going in for an upper endoscopy. I really haven't told anyone about it and I'm sure no one reads this blog (that personally know me). I don't know why...no scratch that. I do know why I haven't told anyone about the procedure. Because everything I've had done up to date (to figure this POTS crap out) has come back with the same answer:

Everything is fine.

All the blood work and tests and bla bla bla...everything has come back as "Lia is in PERFECT health"... Yeah. Okay. Great. Thanks. Perfect health sure feels perfect when you can't walk up a flight of stairs without having to take a break to breathe. Perfect health feels perfect when you are so dehydrated because your body can't retain salt that you can't think straight, breathe, stand up, digest food, or drink even a glass of wine without feeling even worse. Perfect health feels perfect when you can't eat ANYTHING without loosing your breath and feeling like there are rocks in your chest (hence the procedure today).

Everything is fine.

And I like to hear such words. Trust me. I don't want ANYTHING to be wrong with me. But...But...I just can't help but know that there is. That someone, everyone, is missing a huge problem. And if just one person, one doctor, anyone, can find it...they can fix it. And I can stop having to live like this. Then for once, yes...everything will be fine.

So, fingers crossed that something will happen soon. I'm, as I told my dear hubby yesterday, sick of this. I'm so utterly BORED of being sick. Of not being able to live up to my potential. Of being handicap. I HATE IT. HATE. Strong words toward something so obscure no one can seem to find it. That one it. Whatever that it may be. "IT" being what's wrong with me.

So, fingers crossed that someone finds it. So IT can go away. I'm tired of IT. I hate IT. Go away IT. We don't need you here anymore...

I don't want anything huge to be IT, but I want IT to be found, and soon. I know this is just not something that one should ever say out loud (hence I'm typing it...) but I feel like my time is running out. And I have so much life left to live! I have children. I have a husband. I have love to love. Words to write. Songs to sing. Hikes to hike. Beaches and mountains and streams and skies. Friends. Family. Beauty. All of it. I don't want to loose anymore of me, but I surely don't want to loose out on life.

So...fingers crossed...

Bad POTS day, Good POTS day...

That's how the story goes. How my life is going.

One day is good, the next thirty, bad. And just when I thought I had it, had figured out the pattern of it all - good weather day, good POTS day, yeah! - a great weather day comes along and I can't catch my breath to save my life.

All. Day. Long.

Sucks. And here I was going to blog about the ups and downs (ha, who am I kidding. Just the downs) of having POTS, but the thing is: I can only seem to get on here on a good POTS day...and when will the next one be, I don't know.

What's a good/bad POTS day look like? Oye, do you really want to know?...

A Good POTS day looks like this:

I wake up and my heart rate is normal. I'm not soaked from sweating all night long, my head isn't foggy, I can think straight and when I get up, out of bed, I'm not dizzy, light headed, feel like I'm about pass out. I still take my beta blocker, still drink two glasses of water with 1/2 teaspoon salt before doing anything else (because I know this isn't going to last, this good feeling) and go about my day.

On a good POTS day, I can breathe. I can walk up the stairs without it feeling like I've just run a marathon. I can pick up my kids and give them kisses without having to catch my breath first. I can kiss my husband without having to catch my breath first. I can go to the mailbox or walk to the bus stop and not feel like I have to get inside ASAP and lay down for the next half hour because I've just taxed the shit out of myself. I can go out and do things and not have to end my day abruptly to go home, lay down and wonder if this is it. This is how I'm going to feel for the rest of my life.

What does a bad POTS day look like?...

I'll leave that for a bad POTS day. I don't want to think about it now. I'm having a 1/2, 1/2 day today which, in essence, is a good POTS day. Anything outside of a full on bad POTS day is a good day.

So, I'm just going to take a shower, spend some time with my kids, and possibly go out later today to use that gift card I've been itchin' to use. Want to get some new running pants and shirt since I AM going to get back into it. I am. I have to. Otherwise... I'll blog about that another time. I'm not thinking about the whole heart/exercise/POTS eradication thing right now.

Right now, I'm taking a shower. Vent. Shower. Move on.

One thing at a time.