happy hearts day

I had a scary thing happen this week. 

Actually, it was last week. Last week I did that one thing that no nursing student in his or her right mind would ever do (aside from pushing potassium. We know that'll kill someone faster than I can blink.). 

I did that thing reserved for those outside our profession, those who can't handle the stress, the blood, guts, and gore. 

I DFO'ed. 

I Done. Fell. Out.

I had an awesome morning in the nursery... Hold up. 

Some background: 

I think I officially hate this rotation. I'm not connecting with this clinical instructor and I can't seem to do anything right and pregnant ladies and babies have systems so foreign to me, it's almost like I don't have lady parts! 

Hate. 

To make matters worse, when a person says they hate ob, it automatically sounds like "I hate babies" which  equates to having some innate problem with humanity, or other serious, deep-seated issue. 

And that's exactly what I want to do: run around screaming "I have issues", 'cause that's sexy. Really. Happy valentine's day to me.

So, anyway, last week, without the worry of a postpartum mom bleeding out, I was actually enjoying myself. Within fifteen minutes of walking in to the nursery, I'd changed five diapers and had my fingers in twins' mouths trying to soothe them (their mom insisted on no pacifiers). 

I was happily rocking babies when we started the twins' assessments.

We'd gotten through assessing Twin B and were beginning Twin A when I had a horrible feeling of nausea. I was light headed, sweaty, and desperate to move from the heating lamp Twin A was under. 

I had to sit down.

The nurse looked at me and said "you're green!" 

A chair magically appeared under me. I remember being really tired. Like, unable to keep my eyes open tired. 

And then I remember someone calling my name just as I simultaneously peed myself and realized the nurse was straddling my leg. (Mom, I realize that your record of saying that I never peed myself after the day you told me about big girl underwear is now over. Sorry.)

"Do you know where you are?" 

I assured her I did. I was also probably looking at her like she had decided to shave half her head- in the middle of the day.

"You had a little seizure there, Sweetheart." 

Oh, boo.

So there I was, sitting in my own urine, feeling confused, nauseous, and mildly light headed, when my professor walked in. 

Awesome.

New scrubs appeared in a blink. I was whisked to the ER for further testing.

All of which came back negative. 

"We're calling this syncope", they say, which I like better than "you had a seizure". Follow up with your health care provider. Oh, and get an echocardiogram. 

I went to the doctor today as a valentine's gift to myself. A heart check up for valentine's, every girl's dream. The gal (ohmygawd, I'm 60) I see is an NP. She is also my future drinking buddy. She just doesn't know it yet. 

Today she discovered an aortic murmur. Today I came one step closer to figuring out why my heart rate falls suddenly, causing me to become dizzy and nauseated. Today I took a step away from being a statistic. 

The PSA part of this post: 

(Hey, I'm just doing my part, people)

Heart disease is responsible for 35% of deaths in women over age 20. It now kills more women than men each year. As I'm learning, it can affect people who otherwise seem healthy. 

So what I'm really saying is, go get your heart checked out. Every year. 

Evidently I'll be getting that echo after all.