While I was at work the hospital called and said that a cardiologist wanted me to meet with an electrophysiologist. So I went in in the afternoon and found out that part of my heart hasn't been beating right. Since it's the bottom part it's more of a concern (like some people have no symptoms and some people die), so they admitted me to make sure that I respond okay to the medicine that should fix it.
I'm pretty mad about the whole thing. I'm mad at myself for not going to med school or even taking anatomy and chemistry so that I'd be able to understand more about what's going on, and for believing the person who told me in high school that feeling my heart pound sometimes was normal. I'm mad at society for not figuring out how to fund more pregnant woman and calcium channel blocker studies. I'm mad whoever posted the picture of a two-headed calf on Wikipedia's entry for teratology. I'm mad at every doctor who's listened to my heart and didn't think anything was wrong. But I'm grateful that I'm at a good hospital. I'm grateful that Eric was able to spend the night here with me. I'm grateful that I'm otherwise healthy.
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