Not good, but could have been MUCH worse

So, Friday morning, I start having chest pains. BAD chest pain. I’m only 32, but the concept of a heart attack at this age isn’t totally foreign, as I lost one of my best friends (we’d known each other since the sixth grade) to a heart attack three years ago — he was only 29.

So, my friend Jack at work takes me to the emergency room. They run an EKG, do chest X-rays, listen to my heart, ask a load of questions. Turns out I have acid reflux disease (or GERD, as the technical term goes for gastroesophageal Reflux Disease). I’ve been having BAD heartburn for the last few weeks, but I chalked it up to the unplanned vacation and new job stress (though the new job is going really swimmingly). Apparently, it’s had more of an effect on me than I thought.

I finally came up with a fitting description of the pain, though: Say you’re grilling out, and you’re doing it old school, using a charcoal grill. Imagine that it’s about time to put the meat on the grill, and you’ve got the coals so hot that they’re ashy-white and glowing red, like little suns. Now imagine swallowing one of those and having it get stuck behind your breastbone. Voila! That is what acid reflux feels like. Sucks, huh?

But, At least now I know that my heart’s in decent shape. Ever since Daniel died (and since I’ve got hypertension and am not in the best of shape), I’ve had a bit of phobia (well, more than a bit, actually) about my heart. Now, I can get down to working on the getting into shape thing (which I started a few weeks ago, and has been going well) with a little load off my mind. I’m going to miss the spicy food, though (one of the GERD dietary restrictions). Hopefully, that restriction will be temporary.