There is trouble in my heart I said.

Weeks back I wasn't feeling all that well. I put it off for ages but needed to get to the doctor for a few things so while I was there I also mentioned that actually, I wasn't feeling all that great. Often, I had this ridiculous feeling that I was having a heart attack. Other times I felt so dizzy I thought I might faint.

There is trouble in my heart I said.

My doctor decided it was best to get some tests done, blood tests,  ECG and stuff but I really don't like blood tests, I faint, I get embarrassed, I can't drive myself home. Stupid stuff, but it is what it is.

Dad came to stay and he needed a blood test before his unicorn dust was to be administered, so we had a blood test date together. I drove there, we chatted in the waiting room, I went in first, survived and then he went in next (I guess he survived that one), he drove home, we talked about how my old car was still going ok, that it should get another year or two out of it. We talked about nothing, just talking.

The next day Dad headed off for his dose of Unicorn dust and from there he would be going home with Mum. I waved them off and the feelings came on.

I could barely breathe, I wanted to sit down, but my heart was pumping too fast. Something was wrong with me. I started to think I better call the doctor to see when the results would be in.  This trouble in my heart it was getting worse.

Half an hour later I was ok.

The doctor called and made an appointment for me to see him the following week.

I couldn't make it because by then Dad hadn't survived and I was off in the country wandering around thinking this situation is just really fucking shit.

But all week long and all the following week, there was trouble in my heart still.

When I got home I went to the doctor who confirmed that actually there was nothing wrong with my heart. My tests showed I was totally ok.

But there is trouble in your heart he said.

It is grief, it is anxiety and you are going to feel it. He suggested that it was best to grieve openly, to be weak. He said there was no benefit in 'being strong', that grieving is something best met head on and riding through, not pretending it isn't there.

So I have. The anxiety is nearly gone. It was run out of town by the amazing people I am lucky enough to have in my life. Many of them I barely know, they are late night tweets or early morning texts, or they are meals in my freezer and cards in the mail. They are people who send me messages on Christmas day that just say, I hope you're ok or that understand when I keep saying no to invitations I am not up to.

There is still trouble in my heart, but it is the black cloud variety not the dodgy artery kind and black clouds always always get replaced by rainbows, someday.