Imagine you’re a drum. Every day you wake up to the same familiar drummer beating a steady tune, keeping you fresh and functioning. She speeds up when she needs to, and slows down when a deep, dawdling punch here and there is all you need. You and all the other drums happily live each day like this, functioning perfectly symbiotically with your drummer.
One day, a symbol comes crashing down beside you and wakes you up mid-day, jolting you out of your sleep the way a human does when their alarm clock sears through their sleep cycle. You’re disoriented; you’re feeling unwell and unsure. Where is your drummer? Where is the steady attack you’ve felt since… forever? You wait, sweating bullets, wondering when the pulse that’s kept time for you will finally return. The drummer does come back, but sporadically. She’ll rattle on you for a minute, then run out faster than she got there; other times she comes and beats you to hell, ferociously kicking for an almost-unending time. On occasion, she seems to fall back into line, practicing that steady, change-when-you-need-it rhythm. But you never know anymore. You will never quite trust your drummer again.
Now imagine all of that is an analogy for your heart. You are the drummer, your heart the drum. GUESS WHAT? It’s an analogy for ME.
Since high school graduation, my life has been a series of journeys. Humans are always on the search for something, me especially due to my overactive imagination and anxiety. More nerve-wracking, my life since teendom has been filled with a search for what the hell is going on with the drum that keeps me going, and the resulting side effects in the rest of my bod.
Recently, I’ve been incredibly fatigued with overall pain. Now, considering the wringer I’ve been through health-wise for almost 10 years, it takes a lot for me to be like “Hey, um, I know I always talk about how crap-tastic my bod is, but I think there’s something really, really, REALLY wrong this time. Help????” So when it got to the point where I felt like I needed to shout this on a 24/7 loop a couple of months ago, I realized there probably was something really, really, REALLY wrong. I decided I needed to revisit the experts, despite their lack of ability to find the answers the first (and second and third) time.
After a night of sleepless sleep and a fever that seemed to creep all over my body like a static-y Snuggie, I forced myself into the doc’s office. They leeched more of my blood from me and found… well, not that much.
Except one thing no one has ever found before: a deficiency…
This suddenly explained a lot. And the stuff they couldn’t explain? Well, they directed me where I needed to go to find answers. It was like these medical professionals were TRAINED OR SOMETHING! Finally, someone who realized they just didn’t know what I needed, and said “Hey brah, this dude might, tho. HIT ‘EM UPPPPPPP!”
Next time on Serial…. Er, I mean, next time, I’ll talk about my newly diagnosed deficiency and how I’m finally starting to solve the mystery of myself. (Brought to you by Audible. JK. Damn you, Sarah Koening.)