Feet on the ground

Six months have passed since I was diagnosed with dysautonomia, more specifically POTS and cardiogenic syncope. 

That's six months since I began my six-month break from aerial at the recommendation of my dysautonomia specialist. 

On Friday, I returned to my specialist for my third visit, for a general follow-up and to receive results of my 14-day, 24-hour cardiac monitor. Of course, I asked the big question:

Can I go back to aerial yet?

I was prepared for the answer. I know my body hasn't exactly been the most cooperative. And I know that despite my seemingly high level of function, simple, everyday tasks like brushing my teeth, washing the dishes, and walking up stairs still send my heart rate into a marathon and completely drain me. So even though I held onto a slight hope that, maybe, he'll clear me to go back, I honestly knew that my body wasn't quite ready.

What I wasn't prepared for was the extent of dysfunction. My 14-day monitor showed heart rate spikes up to 172 bpm, during a time period that I know I was not working out. My dysautonomia specialists are having me train my autonomic nervous system by keeping my cardio activities to walking, so I was definitely not doing anything that should get my heart rate that high. 

When I asked the question, I expected to be disappointed. And of course, a huge part of me is mourning my current loss of aerial. But more than disappointment, I found myself relieved. Because not only do I have my doctor's "permission" to continue resting my body from intense activity, but I also have more confirmation that it's not all in my head.

It seems to be common theme among chronic illness warriors to have this sense of relief when medical testing shows what is wrong. It's not that we want to be sick. Quite the converse. We know something in our bodies is not working correctly, and we want to fix it. And we have likely been dismissed by physicians, with phrases like, "You don't look sick," or "that's too rare, you don't have it," or "it's all in your head." So when you find a doctor who listens, orders the correct tests, identifies the problem, and has a plan, it feels like a huge weight is lifted off.

So our current plan involves adding a new medication to my already laden pill case, in hopes of better controlling my POTS, while continuing to limit high level cardio in an effort to teach my body to tolerate being upright. More meds and a longer break from aerial are certainly not my favorite outcome, but I ultimately know that we are doing what my body needs right now, from a true, physiological, medical perspective. 

My goal is still to get back up in the air. Each day is a step forward, until I can take those steps upward. I am an aerialist (albeit a very amateur, recreational-only one), and I will fly again. 

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