After reading my initial post, I realized that I started the post with "today was one of the scariest days of my life" but failed to mention the "scary" part. This is also kind of the "funny" part. It wasn't the fact that I was diagnosed with a disease that is seen primarily in 90 year olds and cats. The 260 bpm wasn't what set me over the edge. And I was ok with entering heart failure 40 years earlier then your average adult (we have medicine for this, right?).
It was the referral to Mayo Clinic that really slapped me in the face. You would think I would be excited; these are the people that create miracles. Their specialty is everything that every other hospital system is not. You google any medical term and Mayo's definition is the third one down(aside from the very reputable webMD and Wikipedia). Who wouldn't want that referral? My thought process... I just got the last ticket on the referral route. The only thing higher than a referral to Mayo is a referral to heaven,and I don't think Dr. H was handing those out.
It's funny how your mind can interpret information. Or is it scary? If you haven't already had the joys of sitting through a motivational speakers' philosophy on how "changing the way you think can shape the way you live," this sounds like an example they would refer to. But realistically, before anyone decides to "change the way they think" I think they are going to see a speeding bus fly by that says last stop MAYO in the dashboard.
This brings me to the real motivational part. I spent a week in Mexico last year with a friend. Our mission was pretty straight forward- fun. Like 16 pina colodas at the pool bar fun. Our mission was not safety and we lacked Mexican common sense. One late night out my friend decided she wanted to go home early; I was in charge of the purse that night (money). Unfortunatly all I could give her was an American dollar and a cigerette. The scary thing, with slight hesitation she took the goods and got on the bus. Her last stop was not Mayo, it was the scary part far from the Cancun strip. One small nap later, a tour through the inland portion of Cancun, and a very kind old bus driver.... My friend made it happily home. The funny thing, my "bus ride home" entailed a legit car, friends we met at the hotel, and a credit card; sounds pretty promising right? Well it wasnt. I did learn you can pretty much buy your way out of anything in Mexico, and if you dont speak Spanish it's way more costly. Needless to say, I made it home much much later than my friend.
So scary or funny? Interpret as you please. The scary thing.... You control the interpretaion. The funny thing.... It doesnt matter- you're not driving.
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