One day at a time

Turns out this heart thing is not going to let up any time soon.  In the past months it has worsened considerably in frequency, but mercifully not in intensity.  I'm having more and more episodes, but none of them are terribly serious.  Still no shocks yet.

I've been trying hard to figure out what triggers them.  It's not exercise, I can tell you that.  Wonky blood sugar?  Maybe.  Little surges of adrenaline?  I guess.  It hasn't happened when I get mad, so maybe it's a particular kind of adrenaline?  Like the kind you get when you're changing over a load of laundry? Or nursing the baby?

It's crazy.  It's unpredictable.  It's going to happen any damn well time it pleases.  Two days ago it was on and off while I made dinner.  Last night I got paced after coming to check the diapers in the wash.  It stinks.

But the bright side is that I am handling it, with the presence of God sheltering me.  He sent me good help for the anxiety, and though I woke up this morning feeling edgy, I'm also hungry, and I slept a full eight hours last night.  Six months ago, neither would have been true, and I would have had no appetite for two weeks.  So that part is getting better.

And God bless my dear husband for reminding me that there are worse things than big shocks or itchy hearts.  It is the truth that I have to hang onto with earnest prayers.  If it continues to worsen, I'll have to consider other medications, which are dangerous, unpredictable and laden with side effects.  Or I'll get shocked.  There it is:  it's the reality I have to look full in the face and embrace if I'm going to have peace in the times that my heart is steady.

I don't know what I'm going to do or how I'm going to do it, but if the Good Lord will stoop to answer me, I'll do whatever he gives me the grace to do.  O merciful father!