On Sunday, I felt need to take an ER run before dawn. Why? While headaches remained consistent, coughing, which had been nil, increased, and chest pain intensified, and as I am most often a safe-is-better-than-sorry-kind-a-gal, I chose to rein in anxiety (concerning pneumonia leaping beyond my immune system’s control) by not sitting passively, quaking silently in fear for two more days until my appointment with the pulmonologist, which is scheduled for Tuesday of this week..
Once we arrived home from the ER during the wee hours of Sunday morning with two more prescriptions to be filled, Will felt reassured enough to freely attend the NFL game with our sons while my anxiety had relaxed enough to rest on our living room couch feeling much more peaceful, all decked out in our team’s regalia, because I’d planned to cheer our gladiators toward victory, knowing’ that once this ornery little varmint has been identified and evicted from my lung, all will be well, freeing me to cheer away with Will and our sons in the stands with a bag of peanuts to shell in hand while enjoying a home game with my family—and that change for the better is sure to feel swell!
In retrospect, I got to feeling worse as Friday progressed toward Saturday, so when heightened levels of head and chest pain kept me wakeful way before sunrise on Sunday, common sense suggested my need to take that ER run in tandem with my self respectful pro active attitude, which fed my fearful stance sound reason to row my boat away from rocky thoughts toward the safe haven of the ER rather than remaining stuck within anxiety’s darkly cloudy, threatening presence at the helm, where, if I did nothing that proved calming then the aura of danger closing in ever so stealthily would continue to stalk me menacingly, perhaps unnecessarily from within my own mind until such time as my appointment with the pulmonologist was upon me, and though I’m generally a-wait-and-see-kind-kind-a-gal, Therapy has coached me to view anxiety as alerting me to consider the value of taking good care of myself when I feel up a creek with rapids in sight but no paddle, and as soon S my decision to seek out professional help, my anxious reaction relaxed in direct proportion to the fact that my intuitive smarts had called forth an attitude fortified by stoking my think tank with self respect, which stimulated a surge in self confidence that answered the ER doc’s questions much more clearly than would have been possible had anxiety addled my processor’s agility to think straight.
Once the ER doc reassured me that the chest x-Ray he’d ordered had shown the pneumonia as not yet out of control, he handed me those two new prescriptions and determined that I could safely await my appointment with the pulmonologist at home rather than being admitted to the hospital (chosen specifically after researching where my pulmonologist is on staff). And having put this proactive plan into action, my anxiety received reason to relax so naturally that I felt both at peace and deeply relieved to continue to convalesce in the quiet, comfort of home.
As to how I feel, today, Monday? About the same physically but with this bonus—now that fear is not running interference with positive focus, I need not mask my anxiety behind a tremulous smile in order not to distress anyone else, and as I continue to challenge unhealthy patterns to change for the better while gracefully sliding my needs into the expansive circle of loved ones whose happiness, good health and peace of mind I value so highly, my love and respect for each of us sees my spirit soar courageously up to the moon and back as soon as one or another comes clearly (rather than darkly) into view ... and as long as I maintain a conscious attitude of courageous vulnerability rather than erecting a subconscious wall of denial made up of false pride, my processor’s well oiled frame of mind (fortified, over time, by acknowledging my need for patience and positive focus) will see my host of inner strengths stand staunchly on my side, and as I gaze into the future, here is what I see—it won’t be long before I see my high spirited self winging past whatever is left of this harrowing ordeal in the same hearty manner that I naturally offer words to family and friends which encourage their half mast spirits to re-energize during personally trying times with this sad exception—two wounded birds are unable to help each other fly ...
So says Tug boat Annie, who is attentively aware of her think tank tiring—Toot toot!
⛴🙋🏻♀️
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