My Trip to the Beginning of the Walking Dead

You guys. This is a little embarrassing to admit, but we took a detour on our way home from Florida because I thought I was having a heart attack.

Okay, J and I both thought I was having a heart attack even though we never said it verbally.

We had gotten a late start out of Florida, so we weren’t even to Atlanta yet by the time 5pm hit.

My shoulder started to feel funny. It was crazy sore and throbbing. I rubbed it, but didn’t think a ton about it until a few minutes later it suddenly felt like a weight had been placed on my chest and I was having a really hard time breathing.

I found it super odd, but I’m not much of an alarmist and I literally never go to the doctor for myself, so I shrugged it off as I continued to massage my sore shoulder.

Then my whole arm started to feel that needle sensation when it’s fallen asleep. And within a few minutes it was nearly numb completely.

“Hey, babe,” I said softly. “My shoulder really hurts and it feels like there is a weight on my chest and it’s really hard for me to catch my breath.”

He looked at me, trying to ascertain what I was saying. We had three small kids in our car. I didn’t want to be like, “hey, what are the symptoms of a heart attack, and am I going to live to see our son’s first birthday next week?”

“My arm was all tingly but it’s mostly numb now,” I said.

He got it. Immediately he got it.

He plugged in the nearest hospital into the GPS and off we went on an interesting detour.

At this point Sweet M was raging in his seat because he wanted out and he was hungry (this was dinnertime, remember?). H was a little fluster ball because he couldn’t be soothed. We are driving through the backwoods of gorgeous houses and confederate flags and come upon the worlds smallest hospital, that I kid you not, looked both abandoned and exactly like the sort of hospital The Walking Dead began in.

All I could think was once we went in there we were all leaving as zombies, ha.

J parked and I went in while he got the kids. They took my info and got me back asap.

This is where I have to really rave about them all. Sweet M was upset and hungry, remember? So the nurse is asking me questions and I whip out a boob with my not numb arm, certain she’ll say something negative (Georgia passed a law the year B was born that you can’t breastfeed in public after your kid is over age 2. No clue if it’s been changed since then, but the fact it was passed in the first place told me all I needed to know. And we were seriously in the boondocks!). But this older nurse made several comments about how great it was he breastfeeding, how she’d be upset if her buffet was disturbed too (when she took my blood pressure) and how cool it was that I was nursing him through my pregnancy. So they totally won me over right there.

Then a different nurse came in to give me and EKG (quickest thing ever) and he was just so nice and respectful and chatty with my kids. I really cannot say enough about how awesome the nurses at this hospital were!

Fortunately, when it was all said and done, I did not have a heart attack, ha. I had a muscle spasm. Or an anxiety attack. Symptoms are all the same. But other than a Tylenol for the pain, there was nothing more that could be done.

Y’all, I felt silly as shit. I’ve never been to the ER in my adult life. I walked around Europe for TWO WEEKS with a fractured leg. I legit just never go to the doctor for myself. And there I was, in The Walking Dead hospital because I’d had a muscle spasm or an anxiety attack.

Oh boy.

I mean, definitely the better outcome for sure. I’m a pretty healthy person. I’d like to be around, and healthy, to see my children into adulthood. But holy heck. That was legitimately one of the most terrifying experiences of my life!

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