I'd love to tell you that after my little procedure and a few weeks of recovery I was back up and ready to take on the world.  


But the universe had another plan.


I'm a big believer that everything happens for a reason.  I'm still searching for the message in this madness. People have offered their insights but nothing is resonating with how I feel.  


Maybe I need to slow down a little?  

Do I not have enough joy in my life?  

Will this help me relate to my clients who suffer with extreme anxiety?  


No, none of the above fit.


When I arrived home, ready to take on this recovery like a boss and let my friends and family cook and clean for me for a few weeks, I was still wondering what that whole drama was about. 


Then, three days into being back home, it happened again.  


I should've known.  Bo didn't want to nap at midday as she usually does and she ended up falling asleep after an hour of struggle, grabbing hold of me like a tiny little koala and not letting go for her whole sleep.  We both woke up slowly and took our time rolling out of bed.  Then I felt it.  That not so familiar thumping in my chest, as though there was a little person trying to get out.  It was fast.  I checked my pulse again and again and text my husband to come home and take me to hospital.  

I knew this wasn't right, I knew I was meant to be fixed and I shouldn't be having this problem again. We called my Cardiologist and raced right back to Emergency where I was greeted like an old friend and shown to my bed to be poked and prodded yet again.  


For those who are familiar with heart issues, I originally had AF, which was fixed.  This time around I was in AFib, which is expected for one third of people who suffer flutter.  I also have no history of heart issues and I'm obviously a very happy, healthy and active young person.  


My doctor decided to keep me in over the weekend and monitor what my heart did over the next few days.  So I checked into my suite (the whole weekend I pretended I was at a hotel) and was immediately struck with a migraine, because apparently I wasn't dealing with enough drama.  


I ended up staying for 5 days.  I was occasionally woken to be told my heart was racing again, at one point they had the Cardiologist and about 5 nurses surrounding me in a panic before my heart kindly reset itself and they all left as quickly as they arrived.  I had visitors, beautiful meals and flowers delivered.  I spent time on my laptop writing and read books I usually didn't have time to read.  It was actually a really nice little break away if you ignored the needle in my arm, wires all over me and being woken several times each night to have my blood pressure checked.  


The day I left my doctor informed me that I was going into AFib daily, which was highly unusual.  In most cases, people experience it once or twice a year, especially at my age.  So obviously something had to be done.  My options were to do nothing and continue to suffer like this, coming into hospital when my heart couldn't reset itself.  Or be on drugs for the rest of my life, drugs which make me tired and dizzy and aren't recommended for women who are pregnant.  This is not ideal when we would love to have baby number two sometime next year.  My final option would be an procedure to hopefully fix it.  After hearing (and being extremely freaked out by) the risks, I was given orders to have a cardiac MRI and mull it over.  


I had to wait a few long days to get my MRI.  


Those of you who have had an MRI would understand how much fun it is being shoved into a loud tunnel for a whole hour.  I had planned to meditate and try to nap, but the technician had other plans for me.  Plans like holding my breath for 30 seconds at a time whenever they took an image.  So no meditating or sleeping for me.  I did thoroughly enjoy testing my limits and occasionally opening my eyes.  I definitely don't suffer from claustrophobia, which is very reassuring for the future.  I'm actually surprisingly calm in confined spaces.  Good to know.


Meeting with my Cardiologist was a relief.  No tumours or cancer found from the MRI.  That was the worlds largest weight lifted from my shoulders in that moment and reassurance that I can handle pretty much anything that comes my way from now.  


Decision made, I was going to have the PVI procedure to hopefully fix my little problem. Despite the risks, it's my only option.  I want babies in the future and I can't afford to go to hospital weekly and risk a stroke from a blood clot. 


As of today, my procedure is in a week and a half and I feel extremely optimistic about it.  I'm not scared, I'm not worried.  I'm in the best hands I could be in and I know that whatever the outcome, there is always a bigger purpose for me.  


Living these past few weeks on medication that makes me extremely lethargic and dizzy while moving house (with the help of my beautiful mum who is the most hard working and giving person I've ever known) has made me even more motivated to come out of this and live the fullest life I can possibly live.  I will be stronger, I will love harder and I will never take my health or energy for granted again.  I will keep encouraging anyone who will listen to live everyday in their best life and being as possible.  I will spread gratitude like wild flowers across the internet and into the universe.  


Who's with me?