Pain in the...

Today I did a little shopping. Strange thing for someone who loathes christmastime to do, shopping the weekend after thanksgiving. I know. I realize this. I thought, as I usually do, that I could be in and out, quick and painless. Ah, I was wrong. My horoscope said I should not make decisions that lead me to do things which are against my instincts this week, but I did anyhow. It wasn't too bad, just odd. So while I will acknowledge other truths and paths, I'll consider today a lesson to act based on what I know is true for me.

While I was walking through TJMaxx with an armload of possible purchases (winter coat and a heavy skirt in two sizes since god only knows which one I am today), my chest started hurting, again. This sort of freaked me out. I considered whether I was having some kind of anxiety/panic episode. I have had some mild ones over the last few years, but there was no telltale "Eeeeeeeeeek!" heebeejeebee feelings going on, no swirling head, none of that "I gotta get out of here!" feeling. Not that this would pass for a good self assessment in an ER, I mean, I am female afterall. I must be prone to unconscious bouts of somatic hysteria, right? Sure.

When the unpleasant sensation of bubbling and flip flopping in my chest began happening with some regularity not long ago, I was a little concerned but not too bad. I know there are relatively non-serious cardiac symptoms too much caffeine or dehydrating medications can cause. I reasoned that I can't stop my stomach meds unless I want to starve, but I could cut down the coffee. So I did. Over the last few weeks, I got down to two cups of coffee in the morning. The flip flopping continued, although I was quite sure I still didn't drink enough water. This is an easy solution and I tried to get more fluids in me over the last few days. But what's this shit? Now my chest has started to hurt when I'm doing anything remotely strenuous. Playing with the cat. Going up stairs. This sort of puts a wrench in my self diagnosis and treatment plan. I vacillate between feeling like I am being a hypochondriac and an irresponsible idiot, but the one constant is that I am really not feeling like dealing with another round of Diagnose This! with the docs.

Today I told myself that it was probably muscle strain induced by walking around with the heavy load in my arms. This meant it was time to get out of the store. I put the coat away and bought the larger skirt since I hope to grow into it.

Then I went into the MALL. (insert "Ewww" here)

While browsing the fiction section at the book store, I stepped back ever so slightly and tripped a salesperson who was ducking behind me in a big pre-christmas rush. "Excuse me, I'm so sorry" I said to him. He had managed to recover without falling over, gave me a bitchy look, and then scrambled away. Um...ok, I guess I should have said Fuck you!

This sort of shopping slapstick is standard for me. My brother and I can destroy entire displays practically just by looking at them. We are not allowed to go shopping together. One of our last last shopping trips involved taking down a huge display table at Urban Outfitters in Ann Arbor. Sometimes for fun, I walk very slowly through the glassware section at places like Filene's home store. It's a thrill, kind of like looking over the railing on top of a high building. I might catch the edge of that handblown swan on my jacket, dragging it into the display of cut crystal sherry glasses, and before I even notice I'm snagged - CRASH BANG SMASH! That would SUCK! I only do this with a friend to "spot" me and I walk carefully past the displays, holding my breath while I go through, releasing it in a fit of laughter when I get to the end of the isle.

Today I was not in the cheap thrill mood. When I am shopping alone, I try for very targeted and very efficient. On top of my usual shopping displeasure, ignoring the chest pain was taking up too much resource. So no loafing around or strolling through the breakables. I didn't find what I was looking for at the bookstore, but bought Four Souls by Louise Erdrich. At the register, I waited uncomfortably while the woman ran my card. Behind me, I heard I a young woman's voice saying "That's a journal. You don't want that."
Then a boy said "Why?"
The young woman said "Because it's a journal," as if this were all the explanation he needed. I swear if I had been feeling better, I would have bought it for him. It troubles me to witness what I see as damaging gender socialization in action. But it was time to go. If I stayed, god only knows what I might break or knock over. So I said "Thank you" to the saleswoman and drifted out of the store thinking about how wrong it is that boys are actively discouraged from self expression. I wondered if I had bought it for him, what would his family's reaction be? If he came by a journal somehow, would they think it was weird? Would they read it because they couldn't even imagine what he might be writing in it? Why does it sometimes feel like we are moving backwards socially?

I passed the guy playing Santa on my way to the mall exit. All the children were busy riding the various machines in the coin operated corral and Santa was all alone in his Santa house. He waved at me through the fake glassless window and said "Merry Christmas!" Right. I muttered "Thanks". What else do you do? It seemed polite.

And then I was in my car. Waiting for it to stop making the noise it makes when it is cold. Waiting. Waiting. Playing with my new cordless headset. This ear? No. That one. No...wait, better over here...oops, ow...there! "Call home!" I told it and marvelled when it dialed my apartment. While I was punching in the code to play my answering machine messages, somewhat chagrined since this defeated the whole "hands free" purpose of this new toy, someone knocked on my car. I turned and saw a short man standing a respectable distance away. He was speaking with an accent and it sounded like he said "Was there a death in the family?"
I rolled down my window a couple of inches. "Excuse me?" I said, my foot on the brake and hand ready to put the car in gear if he said anything crazier.
"Your black flag. Was there a death in the family?" he said, gesturing towards the back of my car.
Oh. That.
"It's an, um, I put it on when President Bush was re-elected. I'll take it off when he's out of office," I explained.
The man looked amused and said "It has been on for a very long time then."
I said "No, just over a year now actually. I put it on when he was RE-elected. When he's out of office, I'll remove it." I smiled and started to roll up the window.
The man asked "When he dies?" eyeing me as if I were the crazy one.
"No, no." I said hastily. "When he leaves office, whether he's impeached, indicted, or just voted out."
He smiled and said "I am very glad you have this. Not because I agree with you though. I am from that part of the world and I am very happy (something unintelligible). You do not know the things that happened over there..."
I interrupted him. "It's really not just that. I don't like what he's done domestically either. His administration has set policies and pushed through laws that cut taxes on corporations without making any provisions to ensure those companies kept jobs in this country..."
He interrupted me. "Ah, everyone blames the president for the economy. But it is not the president. When Clinton was president, he takes all the credit for the good economy. But he is not the one responsible. The ones who make the economy good or bad are the ones with the money in their hands!" he held out a fist to emphasize this point.
I said "Right. Exactly. And the Bush administration's policies take that money out of the hands of the people and the workers and put it in the hands of corporations who send jobs out of this country and destroy the economy. As a matter of fact, I blame congress as much or more for most of this, but the Bush administration pushed through those tax cuts last year...and since then we've lost so many jobs...Ford, GM..."
He interrupted me again. "I think that what we need is for everyone to be sincere," I nodded. He continued, "To act as they should, to think about what is good and what is right. And I think also we need for more people to be on their knees, to pray to god to help them know what is the right thing to do."

I'm not a religious person, and religious people kind of freak me out. But I do think if more people spent time reflecting seriously on what, as my parking lot philosopher said "is good and right" and less time listening to what other people say their god thinks is good and right, then most of the crazy fuck fundamentalist movements would lose quite a bit of steam. I am not sure this is how my new friend meant it, but I decided this was the interpretation that I could live with. More importantly, this was one I could leave with.
"I agree. People should be more sincere. And I have to go home now," I said smiling again.
He said "You are so beautiful! Go. Be well."

That was just too fucked up.

So what have I learned? No mall for me for a while. As for the pain in my ass of the pain in my chest, I think I'll wait it out a day more but I will talk about it with my doctor. She's pretty understanding and I think we can have a decent chat about this without me feeling like I'm over or under reacting. Just trusting my instincts.