Alright… just to tell the story because several of you folks have expressed concern… I’m alive, no worries.
I spent most of the long weekend studying (and took two days off), so when Sunday rolled around I was ready for a good workout. I didn’t go crazy, just about 20km’s easy running and then a tough indoor bike workout. I was hitting zone 5 repeatedly on the intervals, but actually was somewhat happy that I could even reach that intensity indoors. Took a walk to loosen up in the evening and felt great.
Monday, did an easy 13km’s. Felt some resistance in my lungs when I tried to push the pace, so kept it nice and slow. Finished the day with about 10km’s of walking, and felt fine.
Tuesday evening I went to swim practice. Felt a bit tired beforehand, but that’s not surprising (I hardly slept Monday night). Started swimming and felt really slow… pushed harder but didn’t feel any faster. When we started the main set I self-placed halfway down the lane… but after some good-natured jesting it was agreed that I should have to lead at least once. I tried. I was doing ok for the first 50m but then I just couldn’t ignore the stabbing pain I felt when trying to breathe. I slowed down but my breathing didn’t get any easier… I briefly thought of how disruptive it would be for me to pass out in the water, swallow gallons of chlorine and have to have one of the lifeguards save me from my own stupidity. My coach would think I'm an idiot and the lifeguard would curse me for having had to get wet. So I stood up. It felt like I had cramps in my lungs…strange. Kind of scary too.
When I got out of the pool, my chest hurt and it was hard to breathe even while resting. I was doing this mixture of huffing and wheezing… not asthma, and not infection-related or I would’ve coughed. I walked around a bit with a friend in the evening and tried to relax… when you can’t breathe, it’s hard to stop the panic!
The next morning, the stabbing points had morphed into a generalized ache and tightness. I could only say a few words at a time before having to gasp for air. I went to work, but by the end of the day I was practically crazy with anxiety and couldn’t think of anything else. Even though I am grateful beyond words (and lucky!) to have a great medical/ family history, low BP etc, there is just something about having chest pain that freaks me out: it’s not like a pulled hamstring or something.
6PM Wednesday: I drag myself to the Urgent Care clinic and hunker down in a corner, trying to fend off the virtual army of germs being spewed out by, oh, about 20 very virus-infested persons. I’m sorry, but the last thing I need right now is the flu.
Much to her credit, the triage nurse was excellent, efficient and sympathetic. I saw the doctor less than an hour after I checked in.
The doctor was also very efficient. This is basically how it went:
“Where’s the pain?”
I pointed.
“Tell me when it hurts.”
She presses down on my sternum with what? 700psi of pressure.
Let’s just say I didn’t need to tell her... she could pretty much guess. The painful area stretched about 6 inches: she seemed a bit surprised at that.
“What were you doing when the pain started?”
“Swimming”
“Do you exercise a lot?”
“Yes.” I shrug. “15 hours a week?”
“15 hours?”
“Yeah”
“Every week?”
“Yup”
“Doing what?”
“Swim, bike, run”
She is typing furiously on her laptop. “Ok you have costochondritis, caused by exercise. I’ll give you some anti-inflammatories, but you’ll have to take them for some time before you notice any improvement. It could even get worse at first.” She said it was an inflammation of the cartilage between my ribs.
I’m still smarting from the pain she’s caused me, and panting out these tiny pathetic breaths, but I manage to say: “Do I have to take some time off?”
Now she looks at me like I just stepped off a spaceship and asked her to kill the Big Bad Wolf.
She shakes her head, probably thinking “WTF is wrong with these friggin’ triathletes?” and tells me that the longer I aggravate it, the longer it will take to heal. She tells me I will probably need all 3 refills for Naproxen (well I guess that would make it 60 days, not 45…) but I already know I will not be taking it that long.
You see, I’ve grown rather fond of my stomach lining.
I’ll try to get a second opinion before Europe, just to be safe. But for now… I’m overflowing in free time. Maybe I'll finally get to clean up my inbox, or get my hair cut, or have my monthly pint of beer & rant session, or, wait… UPS came by with my lovely CFA curriculum, neatly packaged and brand spanking new. It was heavy enough that even the UPS guy said: “Wow, you’ve got a lot of studying to do.”
Thanks, UPS guy.
