Page 27 of Defend Her Heart

She looks at me confused now. Not that I blame her. I haven’t even told her the real reason Bryan and I got divorced. I guess it’s time to finally let someone in on everything that’s been going on with me.

While I wait for my discharge paperwork, I tell her everything. I tell her how my health has been deteriorating for about a year now and how, at first, Bryan pretended to be supportive, accompanying me to my appointments. After the first month with no answers, that quickly changed. He began gaslighting me, calling me crazy, accusing me of being a gold digger, even though the man has some of the best insurance on the planet. I tell Tamara how I started to believe him. How I was in such a bad place mentally, not knowing what was going on with my body, wondering if it really was all in my head.

“It wasn’t until I overheard him on the phone with one of the ‘doctors,’ that I began to see the light.” I use my fingers to emphasize the word “doctor” because to this day, I don’t even know if they were legitimate doctors. He started having them make house calls, claiming he didn’t want the press all up in our business.

“I remember him saying, ‘Can’t you just make up something to placate her? Maybe prescribe her some meds that will ‘cure’ this craziness but just give her some vitamins? This is all so fucking ridiculous. I didn’t sign up for crazy.’”

Tamara’s grip tightens on my hands, and when I look up from the spot I’ve been focusing on in my lap, I see her jaw flex, anger written on every inch of her face.

“I’ll fucking kill him. I swear to god, Avery. I will find a way.”

I take my other hand and cover hers with it. “Trust me, six months ago, I would’ve been totally on board for that. But he’s not worth it.”

Tamara huffs out a breath. “Maybe not. But a swift kick in the balls wouldn’t hurt.”

We both burst out laughing, and the tension I felt while telling my story begins easing in my shoulders.

“I would not object to someone kicking him in the balls.”

“Who are we kicking in the balls?” The nurse makes her way back into the room, paperwork and a bag in her hand.

“Avery’s ex-husband who not only didn’t believe anything was wrong with her, but made her believe she was crazy for thinking there was.”

The nursetsks and shakes her head. “I’m sorry that happened to you. Unfortunately, we see that sort of thing happen a lot in the ER.”

Before I can comment, Tamara begins bombarding the nurse with questions.

“Is there anything I can do at home to help her? What can we do to prevent another fainting spell? Is there any special food or drinks that can help?”

Tears fill the corners of my eyes at her questioning. My own husband didn’t even take the time to ask these sorts of questions when this all started happening. How could I not see the giant red flag he was waving at me?

I’m smiling at her when she finally looks from the nurse to me.

“What?” she asks with a shrug.

“Nothing. It’s just nice to have someone who cares about me.”

Tamara smiles and squeezes my hand. “Always.”

The nurse is polite and patient as she spends the next fifteen minutes answering every single one of Tamara’s questions, no matter how absurd they might be.

“I got you some things that might help in the meantime while we wait for tests. Here are some electrolyte packets to add to your water and salt tablets you can take. Over the counter electrolyte drinks won’t do much in terms of making a difference, so I definitely recommend using these instead.” She hands the items to Tamara before continuing. “I also got you some compression socks. You only need to wear these when you’re standing up. No need to wear them when you’re lying down or relaxing. These will help with the blood pooling, which is the cause of your legs turning purplish-red. If you notice your heart rate elevating when you’re home or not doing much, elevate your legs like the doctor suggested. Lie on a bed with them straight up against the wall, or even on the floor with them elevated on the couch.” She hands the compression socks over to Tamara.

“Do either of you have any other questions for me today?”

I shake my head, but it seems Tamara isn’t done.

“Avery was telling me that sometimes it’s hard to shower when she’s feeling at her worst. I don’t have a tub at my small apartment, do you think a shower chair would be a good idea?”

The nurse nods. “Absolutely.” She turns her attention to me. “I know we don’t have any answers yet, but if it turns out you do have POTS, sometimes it can be hard to stand during flare-ups, so a shower chair would definitely come in handy during one. Also, scalding showers can cause symptoms to flare. Heat is not your friend anymore.”

I nod, remembering how horrible summer was for me.

“Do you happen to know how much the tests will be? Idon’t see it here on the discharge paperwork.” Embarrassment coats my every word.

Tamara squeezes my hand again trying to reassure me, but this is not something I’m proud of. I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake. I should have health insurance. I can’t imagine how much this test will cost out of pocket.

“You should stop at the billing department before you leave if you’re up to it. They might have some advice for you in terms of shower chairs, and they can give you an idea of what the tests will cost.”