A broken heart...the physical kind

So some people have already heard this story from me...while to others, this may come as a bit of a new shock.

I'll just go in chronological order and try to make sense of this whole ordeal.

I was in Rochester for the weekend. Drove up Friday afternoon. Did a 6.2 mile run around the campus. My hamstring and groin were tight, but were loosening up as I ran. So I went easy. Went out Friday night for a couple hours and then just went back and went to sleep. Normal, unassuming night right? Exactly.

Saturday morning rolls around. Paul and I decide, Let's make a big breakfast/brunch type deal! So I cleaned a little and chattered about going to finally get registered for my half marathon. I was seriously pumped to run at this point. Paul joked around with me and asked if I had ever had cumin before because he was putting it on the potatoes. It's in Taco seasoning, so yes, yes I have. We sat down, ate. And I took a sip of my iced tea and felt like a hard burp/air bubble/something catch high in the middle of my chest. It almost feels like heart burn. So I tried to ease it out. I've gotten it before and it just hurts for a minute. So I put my arms up and tried opening my chest. Started to tell Paul it hurt. I guess I slurred it and then went face down on the table.

Next thing I know, I'm "opening" my eyes (apparently they were open the whole time which freaked poor Paul out. I have huge eyes as it is). I was clammy and shaking. Paul was blowing air into my mouth and my exact reaction: "What the hell are you doing?" and I tried shoving him away. Yeah. Poor kid. I immediately knew where I was. I thought I had woken up from a ridiculously long nap or something though. Then I got scared and started shaking more. He said my color was back though. And he had literally caught me in one arm and called the ambulance with his other hand. So I could hear the sirens in the distance and the EMTs were there within minutes. Scary. I was pretty with it though. They asked me a bunch of questions and other than being cold, I told them I was fine. Asked them NOT to rip or cut my Marist sweatshirt off of me. So they gently helped me out of it. They did an EKG and all these tests and then told Paul I NEEDED to go to the hospital and they gave me a choice. Not being from Rochester, I just said take me to the one you like more. So I ended up in Strong-Memorial attached to the University of Rochester. Right where the race would be going around the next morning. Irony at its finest.

I also informed them they would NOT be sticking me with an IV in the back of an ambulance because, even though I'm sure they're pros at stabbing people with needles in moving vehicles, a random pothole can really ruin someone's day.  I did let them prick my finger and get my sugar level. It was fine.

Paul called my parents and followed the ambulances. He sat in the ER with me after they did another EKG and got a bracelet on me. And then we waited.

One doctor said I seemed fine and could probably run the next day! Paul gave him the death stare.

Two more doctors came in and said my EKG was deeply concerning and I would need to be kept overnight and have labs done aka NEEDLES. The waterworks began at that point. I was terrified. One doctor elaborated to inform me that I could have the problem that some athletes have been having where they just go into cardiac arrest O_O Yes. Panic more. The heart rate monitor I was hooked to proved entertainment of a sort for Paul who had never actually witnessed how slow my heart rate actually is.

I was cruising in the low 40's, mostly 38's the entire time I was there.

I dropped to 28 when she finally held me down and put the damn IV in and drew blood. And no painful IV is complete without a steaming side dish of guilt about how I should be donating blood because I have marvelous veins and I'm healthy. That nurse and I were NOT friends. So once that was done, they finally took me upstairs to observation. Got Paul a much more comfortable chair because he wouldn't leave me (Thank God. I kept telling him to go get food or a sweatshirt. He wouldn't. It was 9 and he was afraid they wouldn't let him back in. And my sweatshirt was like a girdle on him). He actually brought two bags of stuff that he grabbed quick before we left. My purse and some clothes. Bless him, he forgot underwear but remembered a sports bra and pants. hahahaha. I never even changed so it wasn't an issue. And my purse had sandwich crackers and granola bars so I'm guessing he was pretty glad he grabbed it.

We watched Angry Beavers on his tablet and he tried distracting me from the useless thing that was my IV ladden right arm. I was never even hooked up to medication or fluids.

They did an Echo cardiogram. Came back clean. The doctor that did it was new though and bruised up my ribs a little. "Ribs really get in the way, huh?" JAM JAM PRESS PRESS. You wouldn't say?!?!

The night was awful. The IV bugged me ALL night. It was in the crook of my arm/elbow/whatever and I was keenly aware of it ALL night. I could not get comfortable. Taking my contacts out was rough (and then I couldn't see my cute doctors the next morning! No glasses with me. DAMN). Plus, the poor guy on the other side of my curtained room (these weren't actual rooms, just three-sided curtain rooms. So you could hear EVERYTHING) was deaf and constipated. So he was tossing, turning, moaning, groaning. They helped him video chat with a friend, but he laughed or made noises the ENTIRE time. Probably until 2:30 am. Normally, I'd have fallen asleep, but....not in these circumstances.

They released me in the morning. I was refusing to eat their food because it was making me feel sick. And I wanted a shower. AND MY DAMN IV OUT. They said I appeared to have had a vasovagal syncope episode, which is common. It's a fainting spell when that vagus nerve in the chest gets squeezed or compressed, exactly as mine had probably been. But my heart was still concerning to them with its reversed t-waves and slow rate. So I needed to immediately see someone at home. But they let me go.

Paul and I could finally go home, get cleaned up, get real food. He watched me eat and made sure I ate slow. He said going in the kitchen freaked him out because everything was all disheveled. I felt terrible :( And then he drove me and my car down to Albany and my parents put him on the train home, since I wasn't allowed to drive. Especially not 5+ hours alone.

It was a mess. I owe Paul big time. First, for saving me. Second, for staying with me in a hospital all night. Third, for driving me home after all this. And fourth, for just being genuinely nice and understanding the entire time.

To update the situation:

I saw Doctor Chien at home. He is AWESOME. He thinks it was a vasovagal syncope and told me how to try and avoid them, because I'm obviously prone to them as some people are. He wants to do a stress test soon, once my insurance clears it. But otherwise, he thinks it's just my make-up. My reversed t-wave is actually normal into the mid-twenties. Especially for an athletic female he said. And he thinks I'm just very healthy. Nice to hear. And when Paul helped me lay down on the floor after I fainted, that's why my color returned. Although I'm sure the breath of air helped. I was only out 10 seconds. To alleviate these episodes, either lay down or cross your legs and lock your hands and pull across your chest.

So I'm hoping from here on out, it's good news. I've definitely been nervous all week and my ribs and back have been achey from the hospital stay.

The real kicker...the winner of the half marathon ran 1:28. I could have definitely won. I was pissed. And the doctors coming in saying, "All the roads are closed because of the marathon. Couldn't get to work haha" made me want to take an ultrasound probe and jab them in THEIR livers for an hour and see how THEY liked it. Grrr.

I also miss running. I feel lost after work without worrying when to go for my run and where. Who'd a thought I'd miss that!

 The hospital

 Emergency Department....couldn't resist some pictures in this long post.

Red Fox Red Fox!

So I had to accomplish a long run this weekend before I attempt to tackle the half marathon on Sunday. Well, it was beautiful weather on Sunday. I skipped Friday and Saturday. Achilles woes. So, I got started, had some good music blasting, and I made it down one road and was going down the street to turn down the next little section. Well, there was a rather large red fox running along the scrubby weeds along the side of the road. He was just ahead of me, bounding along.

So I grinned a little and was like, "Oh, this is pretty cool. My school mascot was the red fox. I'm running with a red fox. Awesome."

You would think.

So I go down the road, turn around and I'm heading back. Music blaring. Feeling good. I'm starting to round the corner and stop dead. The fox is SITTING in the middle of the road, watching me. His head was following me when I moved side to side. I stopped my watch by this point and bent down to pick up a handfull of small pebbles to toss in front of me to try and scare him back into the woods/defend myself. I know. I'm so capable of protecting myself against a fox. Pshh. I was screwed. He had me cornered too. I needed to go that way to get home. So I looked up from picking up the rocks and he's gone. I have my headphones off and I hit the start on my watch again. The coast seems clear.

FALSE.

I'm maybe 100 feet from where I stopped and he dashes across the road in front of me. So I SPRINT home by this point, but still had like 5 miles left.

Well, the fox was gone the next time I went by the spot about 15 minutes later.

So yeah. That was my encounter. It made me a little nervous considering it was like 3 p.m. and this guy was just hanging out in broad daylight. At the same time...maybe it was a good sign...Maybe. I mean, I would really like that.

So the half is on Sunday. I just did a treadmill run last night and today is downpours. All day. So....treadmill again. Yup.

All I want today is to take a nap on the couch and listen to the rain.

Some foxy photos in honor of my new BFF

Family Foundations

So I was doing my usual Facebook stalk around lunch time today and found this gem of a picture that my cousin used when she made the Facebook page for my Aunt's organization.

It's my Nonna and Poppa :)
My photography background loves this photo. But what I love more is that she used it as the head photo for the non profit Marie and Pat Ciochetti Foundation. My Aunt Ginny founded it in 2008 and collects various items to help families/kids/whoever who have fallen on some hard times. One example is her Thanksgiving food drive. Another is the coat drive. My favorite is when she collects books and backpacks from anyone willing to donate. I think the books are the best because of my Nonna's love for reading. I think if she could take a look at the Foundation today she'd be proud to say she was helping some kids enjoy a good book now and then.

I remember when I was little she would be sitting in her black recliner with the brass and glass light stand next to her. It was usually scattered with tissues, rosary beads, and prayer cards. But she ALWAYS had a book or two. I was little and would try to thumb through them, mostly because I liked how they felt in my hands. Heavy, comforting. And they just reminded me of afternoons at Nonna. When we would sit outside and eat Jello and Italian pastries/cookies that she kept in the oven in metal tins. My Poppa would be in his favorite spot on the couch if we were all inside. Michael would sit inside with him and ask him for Navy stories. He was intrigued by the invention called SPAM. I recently got a pair of RayBans for Christmas from my Uncle. The Wayfarers. My mom calls them my Poppa glasses because those were his eye wear of choice. He was blind and mostly deaf. So let's pain the scene: a young, dimpled Michael in his high socks and plaid shorts yelling in Poppa's best ear to tell him stories. Poppa loved these moments. In earlier days, we would all sit at the kitchen table, eat those tins of cookies or butter crusty Italian bread. And there were always tissues and a book. Sometimes nail polish.

My memories are chunky, somewhat blurred. I get a warm feeling when I think back to Nonna and Poppa. Not because I remember distinct moments, like Polaroids, but because I remember how I felt as a little kid. Nonna picking up my jean skirt to pinch my butt cheeks before I could scoot away. Her trying to speak Italian and I would obstinately refuse. How she would always have ice-cream (even the Neopolitan that not everyone was a fan of) or Jello at the ready. I remember her homemade pizzas and Christmas eve dinners. And the smell of their house that I cannot accurately describe but can still smell if I close my eyes.

The Foundation is a great thing. No one was more dedicated to their religion. And it wasn't for the sake of being religious. It provided a foundation for a family to grow on. And now it's a foundation for others beyond our family to grow and learn upon. Keep on reading. Keep on donating.

Here's a few links for more info:
Blog: http://ciochettifoundation.blogspot.com/
Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Marie-and-Pat-Ciochetti-Foundaion/353794734696741

And of course, Mount Carmel Church in Waterbury is the home base.

Fairs do make you feel like a kid again...

Last Friday night was the start of a local tradition - The Bethlehem Fair.
Short of arriving home with a monster headache and obviously unrelenting earache, I decided to skip the run for the afternoon and traipsed out into the sticky night to go to the Fair.

Best. Decision. Ever.

My mom's reaction: "I'm so glad you decided to join us! This is like taking you to the fair when you were little and rode the elephants and ponies!!"

Needless to say, I was not the only one having a good time. Not only was I entertained, I was the ENTERTAINMENT.

I pretty much RAN to the livestock barns and laughed at the chickens with the weird afros. Looked at the cows with their runny noses and dirty butts. Picked out an energetic gray bunny that I would never be allowed to bring home. And then, finally, shopped at all the vendors to find the best price on this stupid Baja hoodie. It was made more difficult by the simple fact that a size small clearly doesn't exist nor will it ever. I managed to snag one by the end of the night, along with a completely ridiculous/obnoxious/outofthisworld costume ring. I seriously love this thing and it is probably worth less than nothing. I know. Not possible. Continuing on...

I almost convinced myself into paying 10 bucks to climb this rock wall for little kids. The prize of 50.00 for staying between the lines was really tempting. The harness that was made for 8 year-olds, was NOT tempting. I passed that one by.

We found my dad and the parents ate. I wanted to go in the Mother Goose barn aka the PETTING barn. It got to the point where I said I was hungry, when I wasn't, and ate part of my mom's chicken sandwich thing just to help her finish it faster. Then I was in mini pony/mini donkey/mule/llama heaven for about an hour. The mule, Sarah, had just about the most gorgeous coat ever. She was so soft. All I wanted to do was play with her massive ears though. She started braying and my mom blamed it on me. There were two Shetland ponies there too. The mare was full of hell. They both had blue eyes too. Really striking against their dark brown.

Yeah. I had fun. Lots of fun. The smell of my clothes was evidence enough. And my hands were brownish black from petting everything within arms reach. Oh, and I had hobbit feet from scurrying around in flip flops the whole night.

And yes, I did have a tomboy moment as well. Saw a Polaris Pro R snowmobile for sale and HAD to stop to admire it.

My advice to everyone - go to fairs! They will make you happy.
I'm beyond excited to attend the Big E at some pojnt. My weekends are usually a mess and my parents are planning to take some vacation weekends in September. But I WILL GO. Even if it's the last weekend available. It's worth it for a few hours of lost childhood happiness.

In other news,
My body is having a weird freakout. I think it knows it should be doing workouts and running harder than it currently is. Hopefully a race will fix that. It definitely is all out of wack right now though.
I actually joined this new website that Kevin told me about... www.fitocracy.com
You get points for the work outs you do and if you have friends already on it, it's even more fun. They give you challenges and you join groups for extra motivation. It's definitely interesting. I need to start doing my planks again! haha Go check it out.

And it was close-up weekend in Otis. All the toys are out of the water. We started bringing stuff in and the lift is winterized. I woke up yesterday morning to brisk September air. My favorite. I definitely will miss certain things about summer, but Fall is my favorite. I think the only season I dislike is Spring. Fall and Winter are my favorites. Yup. Ok. I think I have things to do. Actually, I definitely do. Until next time - Go exercise and go to fairs!

Swimmer's Ear?!?!

Well, it's after Labor Day aka summer is over.

I just answered the phone at the office and one of my dad's more animated clients (I seriously think she plans an opening monologue to unleash as soon as I finish saying "Good Morning"), actually made a startling comment about the upcoming election and the dire need for jobs. She said something along the lines of how I am lucky to have a job when so many college kids come out with nothing. She's right. And for a moment, I felt content and happy with where I am. And then, I panicked. Mostly because I can't seem to find a job anywhere else. My resume is continually rejected without the common courtesy of a reply that the company even RECEIVED it. Yeah. Insert a "McCayla is NOT impressed" stand here.

-_-

In other news, I watched Mean Girls last night and my mom informed me that Jack finally had a sex ed class and he said that he knew everything they were talking about because he learned it from Mean Girls. He then continued on to spell Chlamydia - K-L-A. I laughed, of course. Texted Mike, who apparently broke out into peals of laughter in front of a group of random people on his way to pump some iron at the UConn gym. It's the little things sometimes.

And I FINALLY went to the doctor for my earaches.
Swimmer's Ear. Because I'm SUCH an avid and talented swimmer. NOT.
I somehow contracted it and I wasn't sure how. Then, lightbulb! When I am on the treadmill, everyone knows how I sweat more than your over-sized elephant in the desert. The result is that I often get pools of nasty sweat in my ears. It drips in behind my headphones, which I always wear to keep myself from dying of boredom. Bingo - Swimmer's Ear du jour. So, now I have these alcohol drops that I have to put in both ears every few hours. My life sometimes.

I have nothing else to say.

The Giants are playing tonight. My fall ritual of being glued to the television and cheering for my G-Men has resumed. I'm not complaining about the endless hours of television or commercials I shall screen.
GO GIANTS!!

Oh and I'm going back up to Otis with Jack on Friday. We're just perpetuating the inevitable end of summer. But really.