Diabetes

I have uncovered the algorithm for grief. If I put on mascara, grief will show up. 

My doctor sent me a message this morning reminding me I need to come in for another heart test. There are no signs that anything is wrong with my heart, but I did mention a few months ago that I couldn't catch my breath when working out intensely or hiking on an incline. I know, crazy. I think it's weird people exist who aren't short of breath when doing these things. But the kind doctor gave me an EKG on the spot. It was all clear. She mentioned we may want to do another test where I wear a monitor for a few weeks, but then she dropped the subject and we moved on to more fun things like my risk of diabetes. 

I know for a fact that we are waiting on my doctor to sign off on my mom's cause of death so we can get the death certificates finalized. Mom died of a heart attack. Mom and I went to the same doctor. I don't think my doctor's message was coincidence. 

I'm not sure wearing a heart monitor in the midst of this unpredictable grief nonsense will give the most accurate reads on my situation. Did someone just kindly ask how things are going with your mom? There goes my heart as it simultaneously drops and accelerates while my brain scrambles to figure out how to best answer. 

"Um, she died two weeks ago. No, we didn't expect it. Yes, we are so grateful for the three long months we had with her. No, I'm not sure what I'm going to do next. Thank you for asking. I'm sorry I've made this awkward. That was really kind of you to check in. Oh, what is this monitor I'm wearing? It's a heart monitor. No worries, I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact that my mom just died from a heart attack." 

And then I will go home, attempt to get my heart to calm down, and once again wipe the mascara off my face.