I’m Old and Rusty

21 11 2007

So yesterday as I was making that delicious steak and perogies dinner, I happened to lay down on the couch for a few minutes to take a quick nap. When I woke up 30 minutes later, I sat up and heard, and felt, a weird "snap" in my chest. I figured I had just gotten up the wrong way and if I just did a couple of flexes I’d be ok. I could feel some pain in my chest but after a little while it seemed to subside so I went ahead and finished making dinner. But the pain persisted off and on all night.

I got up this morning and went to work and as the day went on, my chest began to hurt more and more. It became uncomfortable to move, laugh, or even breathe. Of course whenever you start experiencing chest pains people automatically start thinking heart attack or stroke. I kept thinking, I’m only 32 years old, I can’t be having a heart attack–even though I have heard of young people having them. But anyways, I went to the urgent care center to get it checked out. Well, their EKG machine was broken so they sent me to the emergency room.

Well I went to Emory Hospital and they were great in terms of customer service. I told them I was having chest pains and they wisked me right in and took X-rays, took blood, and hooked me up to an EKG machine. Then I waited about 4-5 hours for the doctor to actually come in and tell me what was wrong.

Come to find out I have "Costochronditis," which is a fancy way of saying that I snapped part of the cartilage that connects my ribs to the breast bone. The doctor explained to me that when you’re younger that cartilage is usually very flexible, but once you get older it starts to harden into bone and sometimes if you move the wrong way, that cartilage/bone can become inflamed and snap out of place, which is in essence what happened to me. "It’s kinda like an old, rusty screw," he said, "where sometimes you just need a wrench to kinda jolt it back into place." The only difference is that with the cartilage you can’t jolt it back into place, you just have to sit through the pain and wait for it to heal itself.

But wow–an old, rusty screw. I guess I should change my blog’s subtitle to read: Where my old, rusty, single, black, Christian, female, creative self collide. It’s inevitable. I’m getting old and my bones are starting to rust.

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