First encounter

Or perhaps the title should be “The beginning of the End” but it wouldn’t be fare as the word “end” for me had a completely different meaning back in 2015.

Six years ago it meant another task completed, another project finished, another battle won, another… whatever – but everything was a goal or an obstacle that I achieved, overcame or ended always, ALWAYS on my terms (meaning I won).

Oh how I miss that confidence… hope I’ll be able to find it again.

Thinking about these days now I truly miss them and at the same time I am so grateful that they are behind me. Or I am trying really hard to convince myself that they are behind me, work in progress would be the honest thing to say.

But just for my own amusement I will close my eyes and go back then… “I” was an unmovable object, “I” was an unstoppable force and I truly believed I can do/achieve/accomplish whatever I wanted. I simply felt unbreakable, unlimited and no matter how stupid it sounds – I knew I knew it all… Joke is on me I guess.

Every day was a new opportunity, every day was a challenge for me to accomplish more, every day I started with such an optimism. Well, in the name of being fair, that happened after a big cup of coffee and 10 minutes staring mindlessly through the window until my brain wakes up and the optimism and the thirst to “GO! GO! GO!” infects my brain (couldn’t think of any other way to describe it, it’s like I’m in a race but the only participant in that race is me…).

And oh God, how wrong was I but back then (or as I refer to it “before” and “after” periods of my life) the thought that I am not unlimited resource never ever crossed my mind.

Unfortunately, as it turned out, I am.

Only I didn’t get the “memo” the first time. Nor the second time.

It took a lot more for me to break down and face the fact that I can’t do it all, I am not unbreakable.

Me – unable, incapable, tired!? That’s not me! That never happens to me. Remember – I am indestructible!

So, back then or “before”, already a mum of a four-year-old boy, working full-time building up the career of my dreams and starting our first business in my “spare” time.

See? Anyone seeing where I’m wrong? I know you do. My biggest mistake was that I did not see it.

What is even more sad is that I felt I wasn't doing enough.

This way of thinking or state of mind is still with me, not as strong as "before", but still here simply destructed my body as I completely ignored all the signs that what I was doing it's just not sustainable. Given you are not a cyborg, which, unfortunately, I'm not (can't believe I'm saying that, I'd love to be a cyborg or anything that runs on unlimited source of energy - I love Sci-fi literature, I grew up reading Isaac Asimov, Frank Herbert, Alexander Belyaev - just to name a few).

Here is how the idea of what I was doing would potentially kill me started. Or in other words - my body was basically so desperate to get my attention, as obviously any previous attempts were simply ignored, decided it's time to give me my first lesson.

Lesson that I could not ignore (I couldn't physically, if I could I'd probably ignore it again...). But regardless of the first lesson I continued to follow the same self destructive path as soon as I got back on my feet. Witting this and thinking about feels humiliating - I'm not a genius obviously, but I always thought of myself that I have enough intellectual capacity to "see" things, to "understand" things. And I have (intellectual capacity I mean), just all this "capacity" was always used externally, NEVER internally. The only word that comes to my mind right now is "stupid", along with humiliating...

Just to clarify - it was never about the money, it never was and it'll never be - it's what I am: I always want "more" but not in terms of money, "more" in terms of achievement, knowledge, practical skills, but never money. That being said - I am not coming from a rich family, exactly the opposite, I'm not rich or wealthy (I hate using these words, they simply sound "dirty" to me...) now and I don't want to be. And I'm only saying this as people say, or at least that's what I've heard they are saying, is the reason you are not talking or thinking about money is because you have it. Well, I or we, don't have it (in terms of "millions" or being "rich"), but we have enough.

And enough it's all I want. I know what everyone will say the second they read this - "enough" have a different meaning for every person. Yes, the absolute truth.  But that's a completely different story and a massive divergent from "my story".  So lets get back to my first encounter and my "intellectual capacity"...

I was working from home, cracking numbers and spreadsheets on two lap tops and one tablet and keeping an eye on our start-up on another lap top, while my son was in day care. I had so much to do I can’t even explain it and I firmly believed I will do it all.

Then suddenly freakishly sharp pain pierced my left shoulder. “Oh FFS! I must have pulled a muscle or something yesterday” I thought as on top of everything I was running or training almost every day and then dismissed it “it will pass”.

It was around 10am which meant I had a LOT to do. So I ignored the pain. I’m very good at that, ignoring pain I mean. Tried to find more comfortable position and got back to my army of lap tops, spreadsheets and numbers.

When the alarm on my phone went on at 2pm (see, I had to set an alarm to remind me that I have a child to pick up and I didn’t even think for a second that somehow this is not really the way it should be) so I can start getting ready to go and pick up my son.

When I geared down my electronics I realised that the pain was not only still there, it was getting pretty intense. Again “Oh, FFS, need to do more stretching tonight!”. I paused my working day which would start again as soon as my son had dinner, play time with me, bath and in bed. Then at around 7-8pm I usually continued my work day till it’s done. The concept of time and self-care was none existent yet and besides – who needs 8 hours of sleep?

While my son was having dinner the pain got really, really strong and the scariest of all – my left arm started tingling and I realised I was having difficulties breathing.

“OMG! What if I’m having a hearth attack?”

Of course, as everyone would do it, although we all know NOT to do it – I googled my symptoms and phew… It turns out that even if I was having a heart attack for women it could take days, not like our stronger halves where even a minute is enough to do the job. No, no, no – you are not going anywhere until you complete everything you have to, at least for a day, before you die.  Dying is allowed only "after hours", not a minute before that!  We have to make sure that our kids are fed, bathed, had their bed time stories, finish our work and then and only then drop dead.

I guess nature has something to do with this, survival of species, etc (after all this I checked, of course, me being me - yes, nature is definitely involved, but not so you can finish your job - to ensure, in some way, survival of species/next generation, etc.).

"Ok, so I’m not going to drop dead right now", but even so I thought it would be wise to call my husband, which I do extremely rarely when he is working, just out of fear that whatever is happening to me would compromise my abilities to take care of my son. I called him and asked “out of matter” way-ish if he knows what time he’ll be home.

Another thing you should know about me and that I do not share it or admit it easily – I’d rather drop dead then ask for help or admit I can’t do something back then.

Yeap, I was THAT STUPID.

My husband, knowing me, sensed that I’m not calling “just like that” (he was travelling all over UK back then and there was no specific time for him when he would be home). “What’s wrong?” he asked immediately. “Nothing, really, just I think I pulled a muscle or something on my left shoulder… blah, blah, blah”, which for him means “come home, please, something is wrong, but I don’t know what!”.

“I’ll be home in an hour or two, ok?” he said calmly and ended our conversation. No one was panicking, at least not on the outside – after all a four-year-old boy is in my care and my biggest fear was my health will play me a bad joke in front of him and scare him.

My husband was back home in less than an hour, didn’t ask anything in particular knowing I would not admit if I am struggling, took on some of the evening routine tasks and simply observed me closely.

Now he knows better.

There is no observing. If he thinks, or knows, or sees something is wrong he acts on my behalf without asking, although he knows I’ll be really pissed off. Explanation for this was “I don’t care, you can hate me as much as you want, but if you can’t see that you need help RIGHT NOW, I can.”

So, I continued with our evening routine, my husband tried to take over the care of my son, which I gracefully refused, already ashamed that I even called him. After all, he is tired too, been up from 5am and deserves some rest, right? He tried a few more times and then gave up, but stayed around us and observed closely.

When he asked me how I feel I said it still hurts a lot but it’s “manageable”. He, of course, as every normal human being, said “I’m calling 111” as it was after hours already. “No! There’s no need, it will pass, it’s just a muscle, honestly, I’m fine!”.

That delayed the inevitable call  for an hour or so that day, but at least he got the "memo" the fist time that day as with all my "intellectual capacity" I didn't.

After my son was already in bed and sound asleep I sat on the sofa and re-started my work day or at least I tried. My husband was cleaning up after dinner, loading the dishwasher, etc.

Yeap, I know, I’m lucky I have him:) But when I sat down the pain got so unbearable I couldn’t take a deep breath at all, just a shallow breathing wasn’t causing excruciating pain and I started to sweat, I mean really sweat.

That was the moment that I realised that “perhaps” something really might not be ok.

And I told him that “I think you might be right, we should call 111 just in case”.

What scared him most, I believe, was that I really said that. And probably because I was sweating like I just finished a 5k run and being out of breath on top of "suggesting" we should make the call.

After explaining my symptoms over the phone I was told to lay down and that an ambulance is on its way to collect me as we speak.

Those words did not register with me right away, it took me an additional few minutes what the nice lady over the phone was saying. “Hold on a second, you mean today? Now?” There was a little pause before she answered my question and that somehow scared me a bit. But juuuuust a bit.

After wall, it’s all a stupid misunderstanding, it’s just a pulled muscle or something and they are way overreacting about it. “Yes, the ambulance should be with you in the next 15 to 20 minutes”.

Then, as apparently I thought I knew more than the medical professionals (remember? I knew it all..), I tried to bargain… Pathetic, I know… Stupid also, I'd say... “Can this wait till tomorrow? I’ll come for a check-up after I do the school run.”

Another pause.

“I’m afraid not, please be ready to go once the ambulance arrive.” I thought “Shit! I should have kept my mouth shut!! I don’t need an ambulance!” Then I saw my husband face paler than usual as he is quite pale anyway, and decided that it’s better to stop talking or trying to bargain for the time being.

Our four-years-old was soundly asleep upstairs, he always slept through the entire night straight – 12 hours – 7am to 7pm (I know, magic, right?) and knowing that I’m already going wherever the ambulance is going to take me, at least I was relieved that he is asleep and his dad will stay with him. So everything will be fine.

Only his dad was already on the phone with a close friend of ours, arranging for her to come and stay with our son until we are back. “Why? You don’t need to come with me, it’s nothing, honestly, they are overreacting and wasting their time with me, it even doesn’t hurt so bad anymore.”

He just “shushed” me (which usually I really don’t like or tolerate, but this time something told me to keep my mouth shut and given the fact talking required air, which I struggled to get in my body so I can argue…) and finished giving instructions to our friend.

Before I knew it, as I was ordered to lay on the sofa and not move, my friend was home ensuring me that everything will be fine (my son knows her very well so I had no issues whatsoever anyway), the ambulance arrived and it felt pretty embarrassing for all those people to fuss around me for a pulled muscle or something…

Once they did all they had to do (it was all new to me back then so had no idea why and what they were doing) the nice paramedics asked me to gently try to stand up and that it’s time to go. I attempted with my “bulletproof confidence” to stand up while asking “Go where?” when the pain that I thought wasn’t so bad anymore took me on a whole new level of pain, with the feeling that someone kicked me very hard in the chest, living me with empty lungs and even when I tried to breath it felt like there was no air in the room.

“To the ER, ma’am, no need to worry, everything will be fine.”

Did he just call me “ma’am? I though. I’m not even remotely looking like someone who should be called ma’am! I can’t look that old already… - those kind of stupid thread of thoughts were going through my mind when my brain was not able to fully understand what was going on.

I shared that “thread of thoughts” later on with my husband in attempt to make a fun of myself but he didn’t find it funny at all. Not even a bit.

Apparently, all the piercing pain and lack of air were clearly all over my face, despite the fact I didn’t express it in any verbal way, my husband was already behind me, helping me to stand up and more or less carrying me to the ambulance.

I felt extremely embarrassed and, oh boy… only if I could go back then… Let’s just say that “before” me would definitely not like meeting with the “today” me. Not sure how the conversation would go but don’t think it would be a pleasant one. For the “before” me I mean. “Today” me would deeply enjoy it.

Back to what was happening – I tried to explain I’m absolutely fine walking on my own, I discovered I don’t have enough air to speak… it’s like you just ran out of oxygen and I couldn’t understand what the hell was happening.

For me, not being able to say what I want to say, it’s like the worst punishment ever.

As I talk.

A lot.

Somewhere around this moment while I was “settled comfortably” for the ride in the ambulance – meaning laying down on one of those mobile hospital beds and one of the paramedics searching for a vein in my hand to put a cannula, a bit of fear registered with me. I, of course, the unbreakable one, pushed it all down and kept my cool, but somewhere on the back of my mind a tiny voice was saying I might be in a trouble. Still avoiding to admit that the trouble might be real trouble, not just a bit of a trouble – my specialty back then.

The sirens were on, the ambulance was flying, the paramedic kept measuring my blood pressure, temperature, etc., trying to make a small talk with my husband as I simply couldn’t talk without grasping for breath and I was asked to refrain from talking for the time being.

On arrival at the hospital I was taken straight to the ER with everyone around me acting like I’m going to drop dead any minute now. It felt like one of those movie scenes that we all know are not real, but can actually happen.

But not to me, of course.

As I was laying comfortably through the ride the pain was bearable and the fear, along with that tiny voice were gone. Resting on the slightly raised back on the bed allowed me to breath a bit more easily. “Is that really necessary?” I asked while a nurse was hooking me up to all sorts of beeping equipment.

“If the doctor says it’s necessary than it is” was the answer and I decided it’s better to leave them do their jobs only to find out it’s nothing and then send me back home, embarrassed, that they had to send an ambulance for me when someone with far bigger issues than mine might really need it…

Ah, wishful thinking…