Cardiac.

Three in the godsdamn AM.

Current music 🎶 : Avenue of Shapes— Robin Guthrie and Harold Budd


I can’t sleep.

Today at the doctor’s office, I walked in looking for an answer to the narcolepsy and blood sugar episodes that have been growing more and more frequent and disruptive. When I described just a few of them, and exactly how they manifested — the ones that came on when I was feeling at my most wide awake especially bugged me — I saw a look of intense concern flash across my doctor’s face.

It’s never a good thing when your doctor loses his poker face.

He broke out his stethoscope then, and instructed me to do the deep breathing thing.

After this, he told me that this did not sound like narcolepsy OR blood sugar — though yes, my hypoglycemia is being a problematic little bitch. (My words.)

This is cardiac.

“… oh.”

Everything between that and “You’ll need to call the hospital to arrange to pick up a monitor to wear for a few days” is a complete fucking blank. I’ve been in shock since 4:30.

I’m supposed to be up for work in two hours.

Fuck.

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