Murmur

That's not even a nice word. If Doc is going to diagnose me with something, at least make it sound cool. Like Gastroenteritis, or Hypochondria. Murmur just sounds pathetic.

However, I am alive. And if my ECG and blood test results are anything to go by, I shouldn't be collapsing anytime soon, so I feel good. I still need to have an Ultrasound on my chest (I'm sure they called it something cooler than that at the Hospital but I can't for the life of me remember what it was) and I still need to take it easy, but I'm glad there's nothing wrong with my ticker. I don't know what I'd do without it.

So its Saturday afternoon and I've just worked my way through a mountain of celebratory cheesey beans on toast, and I am walking around the house trying to work out what I still need to get for Magaluf. I haven't had a workout for a week and a half and I still don't feel physically up to it, but I feel like I've lost definition and size already. Bad times. I always wonder whether women actually like muscles. Some women I've met love them, but a lot of women don't seem to care. I'd love to know what your opinions are, particularly my followers from across the pond. I picture all American college guys to be completely ripped jocks who play water polo. I might be wrong.

...

And it's now Sunday evening. At 23 years old, these hangovers are getting worse and worse. The 24-hour hangover is becoming a regular thing. What a fantastic night out though. And I hooked up with a gay girl, which I feel is quite an achievement. A UV bubble machine, my new Skechers and copious amounts of crazy green thick gloopy spirits make for one entertaining night. Good times all round.

Nova is back!!

Luke

Heart

Sheesh. I sure know how to jinx this Blog. There's me talking about a lack of life-changing revelations, and then BAM. Crazy things start happening. It's like the big man upstairs is reading this Blog and fucking with me. You crafty one, you.

So last Friday, at around 3pm, I had what I believe was a Panic attack (or Anxiety attack, I'm still not sure if there is a difference). I couldn't breathe and I felt like I was going to pass out. I was sent home and spent the whole weekend gasping for air and struggling to catch my breath after the most basic of activities such as eating a large meal or speaking a long sentence. But, being a Mitchell, I soldiered on assuming things would just get better in a few days. But they didn't.

So I get home from work yesterday to find the whole block has no electricity. After the initial excitement of the potential of an impending Zombie Invasion, it became clear this powercut was not one of the cool kind, particularly when the pneumatic drill decided to wake me up every ten minutes at 3am. Then, at just before 5am, the street finally lit up. And then the shit really hit the fan. The burglar alarm had reset and starting going off. And I couldn't find the reset code. So after 5 minutes of one of the most horrificly peircing sounds I have ever heard, I decided to cut the wire.

Stay with me. There's more.

8am. I'm outside the Doctors to book an appointment.

9am. I'm in Tesco replacing the defrosted contents of my freezer. The entire freezer. Did I mention I'm on a real strict budget with saving for travelling?

10am. Doctor's appointment. She whips out that crazy stethoscope thing. Turns out I may have a heart murmur. I'm sent for an ECG and a blood test, with the view to having an ultrasound next week.

1pm. I'm at the hospital. The doctor nearly had to shave my chest because the little sensor pads wouldn't stay on. IT'S NOT EVEN THAT HAIRY!!

2pm. Back to the GP to give her my results.

And now I wait, which is probably the worst part. I want to know I'm alright. I feel like I'm in limbo at the moment with the holiday a little over a week away and my attendance looking less likely by the day. No gym, no protein shakes, no beer, no cigarettes, no caffeine, no work. Just me, at home, with 6 One Tree Hill Boxsets to keep me company.

Wait. Why am I complaining again? :D

I'm trying to work out why I had the panic attack on Friday. I've come to the conclusion that it was lots of different thing. Stress from working so much overtime. Stress from breaking up with Annie last year and dealing with her mess. Stress from saving every penny possible. From worrying about what I'm going to do with the house, the furniture. Physical stress from the gym and the strict diet of massive amounts of protein and as little fat as possible. And that's just scratching the surface. It's weird though, I actually felt happy. The last few weeks I've been in a glorious mood despite all of the above. Very odd.

I miss Ella. She is in Istanbul this week. I think I'm going to go and see her in September in Boston. I figure, free accommodation, free cooking and free beer is too good an offer to refuse, especially when I'll be sharing that bed, food and beer with the girl I DEFINITELY AM NOT INFATUATED WITH. Definitely not.

Alas, I sit here with my green tea watching Red Dwarf feeling sorry for myself. I need cheering up.

Luke