The Ride Begins

Micah came speeding into the parking lot with both kids in the car.  They knew something wasn't right, because they were both being much quieter than they usually were.  Ava did ask me if I was OK and I told her yes.  Something about the urgency in her little voice scared me.  What if I was telling her I was going to be okay and then I wasn't?  I couldn't let my mind go there.
As we drove the three miles from the doctors office to the hospital, Micah told me he had called my dad and he was meeting us to get the kids at the ER.  He would take them home and then go from there.  I was reading over the doctors scribbles on the paper I was to give to the triage doctor and my eyes fell on the word,  "bradicardia."  I knew this was a term used for slow heart rate, because I had seen this same term on my younger brother's reports a few years earlier.  It scared me.  Was I about to find out something life altering?  I kept thinking I needed to stay calm because I knew enough to know that if it really was heart related, stress and anxiety could worsen my situation. 
Micah was very calm, which is true to his nature when I am upset.  I couldn't believe we were headed to the ER again. We had just finished saying to each other about a week earlier, "well, lets make this a good year medically, no hospital visits."  Little did we know. 
Once we arrived at the hospital, my dad was not too far behind us.  He took the kids and we signed in.  Being the age of 29, we got a lot of raised eye brows when I explained my symptoms. I am not sure if they thought I was just a person seeking attention or what, but they definitely had their own opinions about it.  They did put me back in a room and started the blood work and all that is entailed with any heart patient.  After waiting the time for the blood work to come back, the ER Doctor came in and started telling us what he thought.  He felt that, if I was older, he would def. had diagnosed me with a heart attack.  My enzyme levels were elevated which was a red flag pointing at the heart attack diagnosis, but because I was only 29 years old, they were hesitant to be too hasty in diagnosing.  They were not too sure what to do, so they finally decided to admit me and do a stress test the following morning. 
By this time, I had calmed down.  I knew the kids were okay and with Grandparents.  I knew I was now safe and under watch so I was not so anxious of something fatal happening.  I felt much better that they were looking into it and I was tired.  I remember, being ready for bed by the time I got to my room and situated. That ends the first day of a long upcoming week.