After waiting at the clinic for 90 minutes, I walked out with 400 pages of doctor notes and 2 out of 4 disks (they have to mail the other ones because it would take another hour to download) of all my Thoracic Outlet Syndrome/shoulder/pain related history, not counting my notes from my surgeon, 2 other doctors out of network and two years of visits/tests/evaluations up in Minnesota.
As I was sitting in the clinic waiting patiently in pain, I was angry. I could barely keep my head up because it felt like 100 pounds that my neck could not support. I was leaning my side on the back of the couch, using the armrest for my back. I had tears in my eyes from the burning pain in my ears and sharp stabs in my temples. I would get a look or stare-down from someone every so often. I was slouching. I longed for my yoga pants instead of my baggy jeans. My whole body ached; including my heart. It was a rough week both mentally and physically. I played volleyball this week, and had drinks after with my parents, brother, and friends. Later I was told from a friend I was faking it. That he won't feel sorry for me because I drink like 'a fish' and play volleyball but can't put in a full week of work. That I was an immature 23-year old that didn't have her shit together. And maybe he's right, maybe I don't. But nothing was stable anymore. I didn't even know if I would be able to make it the next few days without losing my mind. I was on an abandoned ship in the ocean, unable to control the waves, storms that were approaching, or the direction I was heading. 
Signing off for my records, I held the heaping pile of papers in my hand. I couldn't believe some of the comments and diagnosis and how many times my condition was ignored or brushed off. My stomach sunk. I've been staying as positive as I can about the situation. I say "tomorrow is a new day" or "I will get better eventually." I put on a mask. I don't believe myself every time I say it. The truth is, I don't believe it because I can't. There were a lot of pieces to this puzzle that I haven't found quite yet. But I finally found a couple that would definitely help my journey.Today was bittersweet. I pondered this while crawling into bed, sore from my massage therapist appointment. I went through the motions of putting essential oils in my diffuser (lavender for sleep, thieves for immune support). I lined up my night stand with more oils, water, stopwatch, prescriptions and vitamins. I rubbed Tiger Balm on my neck, shoulder, scapula, ribs and bicep. I massaged my temples with lavender and sandalwood oil. Taking a Tramadol, vitamin C and Magnesium, I finally opened up the disks that contained complete brilliance.
I didn't want me to be a mystery to myself anymore. I want to painstakingly read every doctor note and look at every image and scan of my body. To me, it's going to be part of my healing process of letting go. I've held onto anger for so long towards my body. But seeing those scans, seeing every intricate bone, vessel, curve and tissue in my body made me realize how delicate the human body truly is and how I have to forgive mine. One image made me stop in my tracks. It was an MRI comparison of my arm at my side as opposed to above my head. This is where my TOS was confirmed for ATOS and VTOS, even though I was already diagnosed with NTOS. 50% narrowing of the vein and artery meant I had to have surgery, or I could have ended up with a life-threatening blood clot down the road, undetectable without searching.
But that didn't surprise me. What really caught my attention was something else. Something that I have felt my whole life but haven't yet physically seen. My heart. It was right there, on my screen. I gazed at it while I felt it pound in my chest. Something so silly, yet so marvelous finally came to my attention. My heart, that has grasped so tightly to crumbling friendships, pounded for breakups, and fluttered through doctor appointments, never had a chance to heal. It never had a chance to be appreciated and loved and recognized as the one part that has been keeping me together, along with my sometimes-crazy-yet-how-could-I-not-be-mind. Seeing these images of my body, made me feel like a human again; not just a zombie. Going through the images millions of times at every angle and every zoom possible made me acknowledge the beauty of my body. It opened my eyes to a new perspective on my pain and suffering and the artistry of the body itself. I may not forgive it 100% yet, and it may take awhile, but this is definitely a start. So I say this with the utter most honesty and purity of heart: Tomorrow IS a new day.
Equanimity,
Kelsey
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