Everything's Fine (Said the Woman With the Blood Clot)

My people pleaser came along to the ER, and she did all the talking

My biggest concern as I drove to the hospital for an ultrasound was whether there’d be enough time afterward to stop at the co-op and still get home in time to cook the delicious dinner I had planned.

I mean, of course, I had a tiny bit of concern about the pain in my lower right calf that had led me to get the referral for this procedure. After waking up almost a week before with a pressing pain that felt like the residue of a charley horse, I just assumed it was yet another ache and pain that accompanied my newly minted senior citizenship — I turned 65 late last month. After all, the pain from tweaking my back the Sunday before was just beginning to subside, so now here was something new.

But after a couple of days of extra stretching and massaging my calf, the pain persisted and felt - well, weird. Not really like muscle pain. An intuition dropped in: maybe you need to get this checked out.

I’m not the person who runs to the doctor’s office at every symptom. I’ve prided myself on my excellent health my entire life, which I attribute in part, yes, to luck, but also to healthy choices and my efforts to head things off at the pass. As an herbalist, I’ll take tinctures and drink teas at the first sign of any symptom. Vegetables fill half my plate during most meals. I’m a big believer in preventative health care, and so far it has served me well.

But this seemed different. Weird. So, I did what any reasonable modern person does, I turned to Google - now Gemini.

Well, shit.

Apparently sudden pain on one side in the lower calf could be a life-threatening emergency. It might be an indication of deep vein thrombosis (DVT) — especially since there was no exceptionally strenuous activity, long travel time, surgeries, or other factors that could also cause the pain.

Worse, a blood clot in this vein could detach and head up to my lungs, killing me instantly. Or get into my brain.

I lay in bed staring at my phone. But then again — I didn’t have any of the other symptoms that would tell me to head to the emergency room immediately. No shortness of breath, no chest pain, no swelling or discoloration of the leg.

It’s probably just another strange pain, the part of myself I’ll call “Just Fine” spoke up in my head. You’re fine! After all, this aging body had been squawking louder and louder over the last few years. You probably need to exercise more.

The next day, I had to limp down the stairs though. So, I mentioned the issue to my nurse practitioner sister, and she also expressed concern, and agreed I should go get it looked at.

Well dammit, I guess I’d better go into Urgent Care, I decided. But, since it was now the weekend, I settled for taking ibuprofen till Monday morning. “Just Fine” reasoned that was all we needed, and that if there was any type of clot this would thin my blood enough.

Early Monday I reluctantly headed out to Urgent Care, but after a long wait outside in the cold, I reached the admissions desk only to be told they don’t do those sorts of procedures and I needed to go to the ER. Ugh! My partner had driven me down and neither of us felt like spending the next 3-10 hours waiting in the ER, so I called the clinic and — Yay! — I could be seen that afternoon.

I had hoped they could just hand me a paper I could take over to the hospital — but no… that’s not how things work in our current health care system. Instead I was to call the hospital and then keep calling till they could get me in.

When I first called the hospital, I was told I probably couldn’t get in for a week or two. Well, if this was really an urgent issue they would make sure I got in sooner, I thought. No need to stress.

But, urged on by my partner, Randy, I did call again first thing the next morning trying hard to express the urgency of the situation. This time the receptionist said she would talk to the techs and I’d receive a call back soon. When I got the call about a 4:30 opening, I cancelled what I had going on so I could make it.

I was still thinking that I was just going to rule out the blood clot scenario so I could go back to icing, massaging and taking care of it as a muscle problem. I was a little worried - yes, but mostly I just wanted to rule out the possibility of the DVT so I could breathe easier. Hence, my concerns being more about dinner than some sort of diagnosis.

* * *

But when I lay there on the table with the tech smearing gel all over my leg, my stomach started to clench. This was taking WAY too long! Was she finding something? Since there were signs all over the room stating the tech is NOT able to tell you anything about their findings, I kept my mouth shut and didn’t ask.

“OK,” she said briskly, finally finishing up. “You can get dressed now. I’ll be right back.” And she walked out of the room.

I wiped the sticky gel off of myself and put my pants back on. And I sat there. Did she need me to wait? Wasn’t I done? Why did she say she’d be right back?

I was just deciding that maybe I’d misheard and I should just go when she reappeared.

“Ok, well, your provider’s office is closed so I think we need to go talk to the ER doctor,” she said.

Wait, what??!

“Since you live a ways away, I don’t want you to go home and then have to come all the way back,” she continued. “So just follow me and the doctor will be able to talk to you soon.”

And that’s how I ended up in the ER after all — in the smaller hospital. I’d never been to the ER here before and had always pictured it as a big room. Instead she directed me to sit in a chair in this little hallway with a few other folks.

With a sinking heart I realized I might be here for a while. My plans for dinner were flying away.

Something was obviously wrong. I must have a DVT. But why do they need to talk to me now?

I immediately texted Randy and my sister. Fuck, something is wrong and now they want me to wait in the ER to talk to the doctor...

Randy texted back, do you want me to come down?

I don’t know, I messaged back. Maybe? I guess I’ll need to eat something eventually.

I felt strangely calm and detached from the whole thing. I chatted sympathetically with some of the other folks waiting to be seen... but it was almost like I was removed from my body and floating somewhere else.

I was more concerned about how long I’d be stuck in this tiny waiting room than what was going on with my leg. That particular question was like a red hot boulder that I was too scared to touch.

A kind triage nurse called me before too long - phew! I thought that meant I’d see the doctor right away. Hahahah. No, instead she joked and jollied me as she asked questions while leaving the blood pressure cuff and finger clip on me for about 10 minutes.

Then it was back out into the hallway to wait. My sister was sending concerned texts and notifying my other sister, and I was grateful when Randy showed up with a burrito and the comfort of company.

* * *

After what seemed like hours, I got called back in. More waiting. And waiting. Finally a masked doctor rushed in. “You have a clot!” he practically yelled, looking frantic. “Yes you do! I’m going to give you something for it now and write you a prescription.”

“Um, okay.” I squeaked out. I still felt completely detached. The bits of his face that I could see beyond the mask were flushed, his eyes seemed to be darting, and I wondered what sorts of emergencies he’d been dealing with. Surely they were more serious than a silly blood clot.

And with that he was gone.

I still felt that odd sense of unreality. Like I was watching this happen instead of experiencing it myself.

In hindsight I’m seeing: that’s what dissociation looks like.

My phone buzzed. I had texted my sister when I got into the examining room. She was responding, but the doctor was already gone.

Ask him how big the clot is. What are the chances of it detaching?....

Her text went on with the questions I should ask — but it hadn’t even occurred to me while he stood there that I had the right to ask anything.

We hung out in the little examining room for another half hour, wondering how fucking long does it take to write a prescription and bring the pills??? Finally a sweet young nurse arrived with a little cup of pills and another cup of water. She didn’t know the answers to any of my sister’s questions.

I was on my own.

* * *

Did I mention I’m an herbalist and have been lucky enough to enjoy excellent health for the most part? This means I generally avoid any kind of medication beyond ibuprofen or Tylenol. But now, here I am on a blood thinning drug that’s gnarly enough to cause multiple people to caution me about it.

Don’t hurt yourself, the pharmacist warned. Go directly to the ER if you take a fall. WTF??? How bad a fall warrants a visit to the ER? Do I have to be bleeding? So many questions! Still no answers.

Now, over 24 hours later, I’m realizing that dissociation and the reassurances of “Just Fine” were NOT helpful in this situation. This was the time to be assertive. Ask questions. Be an advocate for myself.

I just wrote a book, Unabandoned, with a whole chapter on people-pleasing and how to reclaim yourself.... but my own people pleaser literally drove me to the hospital and took up residence for the entire visit.

The habitual patterning of people-pleasing had stopped me from even realizing that I could speak up and ask what I needed to know. My people-pleasing parts have so much practice with making sure I take up the least space possible, and that I don’t cause others any discomfort, that they activated without my conscious awareness.

These last couple of days have really highlighted the part of me that wants to tell everyone I’m just fine. I can remember her showing up in the past. Once when I fainted. Another time when I took a fall off of a porch, injuring my back. “Just Fine” is way more concerned with everyone else’s comfort than my own.

My challenge now is to work with these parts that want to stay small, tell me I’m just fine, and keep everyone else happy. It’s more important than ever that my more assertive parts and my wisest Self can be present while I navigate the medical system and try to deal with this issue. I need more information. Why do I have a huge blood clot out of nowhere?

Since returning home, I’ve been bringing in those assertive parts while making phone calls to the clinic for follow-up care, to request a referral to a vascular surgeon, and for further testing. I’ve also been tapping to ground back into my Essential Wise Self, so she can lead the way.

Isn’t it fascinating how the Universe hands us opportunities to do the inner work... often in ways we could certainly do without?

I don’t think I’m alone in having a Part like this.

Do you have a “Just Fine” of your own? When does she show up, and whose comfort is she protecting?

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The people-pleasing chapter is the one I wish I’d reread for myself before I walked into that ER!

About the Book:

Unabandoned: A Midlife Woman’s Guide Out of People Pleasing, Perfectionism, and Imposter Syndrome

You did everything right. You became the one everyone counts on. So why the hum of discontent that wakes you at 3 a.m.?

Unabandoned is part memoir, part field guide — the friendly company of someone who walked this ground just ahead of you, reaching back. You’ve left yourself behind for so long. This is the invitation to stay.

The ebook is just $4.99 for the launch period, going up to $8.99 on November 30th. You don’t need a Kindle device to read it; the free Kindle app works on any phone, tablet, or computer. Prefer to hold it in your hands? The paperback is available too, at $12.99.

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If you’ve got a “Just Fine” (or similar character) inside your own head running the show, perhaps we should talk. An Ageless Awakening Review is a free, guided look at where you are and where you want to go.