It was the second day, of the second month, of the second year, of the second millennium as I looked back on the first week of being in my new office. I was proud of what I had created. It was so totally me, everything about it defined who I am and what I think is beautiful. The rose walls, the Victorian botanicals, and children prints, the nearly foot thick soundproofed walls, the large office and the floral chaise beside the over-stuffed over-sized chair – all a part of my personally designed space. My husband of three years had been the instigator of my moving out on my own. He had been listening to my complaints about where I was for the entire time of our marriage and he knew that for me to be happy, I needed to be on my own.
Finally, it had happened. It took thousands of dollars on credit, hours and hours of putting together paperwork and negotiating with my new supervisor, but after five months of planning, is was here. For the first several days of the week, I had only been able to move things in from my old office, since my old employer needed me to stay through the end of January. On Friday, February 1st I saw my first clients in my lovely office, and they, as I, felt warm, comfortable and happy there. 오피
Unfortunately, that week had also been a horrid week for me with my allergies. Environmental allergies had been the bane of my existence my whole life, earning me the nickname of “delicate Melody” growing up. As my allergist recently stated, “It’s a wonder (I) am alive”. Actually, I nearly died of them a few times, ending up in the hospital a five or six times with pneumonia before I was ten. By the age of 46 I had grown accustomed to them and found a way to deal with them. I was on weekly allergy shots, taking a decongestant and an antihistamine, along with a nasal spray every single day. That did not prevent runny noses or the occasional sinus headache, but I had my infections under control and seldom missed work for illness. But, this particular week had been a horrid one. Monday night I had the worst asthma attack I’d had in many years, I hardly slept. Tuesday night I was up all night sneezing so much that I could not sleep. Wednesday I got in to see my allergist and he gave me a shot of cortisone, which had always stopped such attacks in the past. Wednesday night I had a sinus headache that turned in to migraine and, once more did not sleep. By Thursday I was still miserable, and my doctor gave me a prescription for oral prednisone. By Saturday, the 2nd, I felt physically better, though still quite tired and confused about why my allergies had been so terrible that week. Oh, well, I thought, at least I am able to do something about it now. I liked that I had finally gotten help with my allergies and didn’t have to just suffer with them as I had done for my entire life. The steroids would clear up this bout, and life would soon be back to normal.
The following week I continued working in my beautiful office. My former employer had sent me a lovely bouquet of assorted flowers that absolutely crowned my Victorian waiting room with elegance. (I avoided breathing in their scent) On Tuesday evening as I came in from work, I complained to my husband that my ankles itched. I pulled down my socks and noticed a sprinkle of uneven red splotches all over both feet and ankles. Mike suggested I shower and put some cortisone on them, which I did, and it helped only mildly. We tucked away into bed, embraced in each others arms and fell asleep. Just as I nodded off, a pain hit my chest, then subsided. I moved to the other side of the bed as the pains kept coming, I began gasping as they hit. Mike was stirring and I didn’t want to disturb his sleep so I crawled out of bed. I couldn’t wall too well, the pain was to great. I finally got it together and got myself in to the living room where I grabbed a pillow and sat on the couch. The pain kept getting worse, it came in waves, hitting one right after the other like a contraction. Mike came apologetically into the living room and asked if he could do anything, and tried to get me to describe the pain. I wasn’t very good at describing it, for it took my breath away between strikes. A few minutes later he was piling me in the car and headed toward the ER