Normally a child doesn’t have to worry about how active they are. They can go outside, run around and be a normal kid; a child full of imagination and dreaming of being a mermaid or a prince who slays the dragon. I was once that kid. I could run around and never get tired. I could do anything I imagined I could do, because that’s what kids do. I never imagined I would have to stop, check my pulse, and hope I could continue on. From a very young age, I’ve been called lazy. I would be that one girl in cheerleading or softball who wouldn’t be able to finish the lap.
I would have these strange attacks where I couldn’t breathe because my heart rate was too high. At that time, I was told it was acid reflux and I should “start eating healthier to lose the weight” so I could “stop being lazy and actually be in shape. ” So of course at the age of 9, I believed them. The beginning of my junior year of high school, everything changed. I started working out more, eventually losing almost fifty pounds. I’m supposed to be healthy now, right? Fifty pounds gone and you would think everything was better, right? Wrong. My symptoms grew increasingly worse.
I first noticed these symptoms when I joined my high school weightlifting team. I was so excited to make the team that I vowed to myself I would work harder than I ever have just to prove to my coach that he made the right decision by putting me on that team. Everything was going great, up until conditioning day. I was a nervous wreck because I didn’t know if I would be able to finish the workout. I didn’t want any of my teammates to think of me as being lazy like I was told all those years back. Most importantly, I wanted to show myself that I could complete a tough workout.
We were to run 2 laps around the track, run the bleachers 3 times, and do 1 lap of Indian runs. Halfway through the first lap, I became breathless, but I didn’t stop. When we were finally finished with the workout, I walked back into the weight room, sat down, and started to hyperventilate. I was embarrassed at the fact nobody else was having as much trouble as I was, even those who were way more out of shape than me. I finally checked my pulse to find it was at 224 beats per minute; which, at my age and small size, was most definitely not normal.
After a few visits to the doctors office, I was told there was nothing structurally wrong with my heart, and that there really wasn’t anything wrong with me, that I was just out of shape, and was sent home. After a few more small attacks and one major attack, I was ordered to wear a heart monitor for a month. The worst part about it was it being scheduled for the month of July; right smack in the middle of summer. Instead of being a normal teenager going to the beach and having fun with my friends, I was stuck at home embarrassed about going out where everyone could see me carrying around some machine.
I hated the fact that people give me these strange looks along with looks of sympathy because I was carrying around an annoying heart monitor. It made me different, and in today’s society, different is strange and considered not okay. When the test results came back, they said I was fine, that I only had a fast heart rhythm. As of now, I am still baffling the doctors with my strange condition. My pediatrician and parents know something is wrong with me, so they don’t give up. I have multiple tests being done that show different results, some normal and some questionable.
Now I get breathless just by walking up the stairs. What surprises most people I tell this too, is that I work out twice a day, 5 times a week. I try my hardest to complete all of my workouts, but sometimes I have to stop even though I want to keep going. I never have, and never will, let my condition interfere with who I am as a person, as a student, or as an athlete. The quote I go by everyday is “There is always someone out there who is working harder than you are. ” This quote drives me to be the best I can be, no matter what the circumstance may be.
