The last two weeks have not gone according to plan.What started as a simple eye infection somehow turned into a dizzying journey through doctor’s offices, blood pressure checks, emergency rooms, hospital rooms, scans, tests, and more questions than answers.
One day I was dog-sitting and planning quilting time, and the next I was struggling to walk across a room without feeling unsteady. My blood pressure decided to make itself the center of attention. Numbers climbed higher than I wanted to see, my pulse raced when it should have been resting, and the dizziness became impossible to ignore.
That led to a hospital stay, where I spent 3 days being poked, scanned, monitored, questioned, and tested. CT scans. MRI. Echocardiogram. Blood work. Neurology consults. Blood pressure checks at all hours of the day and night.
The good news is that many of the tests didn’t reveal anything. The frustrating news is that I still don’t feel like myself. The exhaustion has been the hardest part. Not the kind of tiredness that a good night’s sleep fixes, but the kind that settles into your bones and makes even simple tasks feel like major accomplishments.
I have a follow-up appointment with my doctor this coming Tuesday, and I am hoping for answers, a plan, and maybe a little reassurance. Right now, I feel stuck somewhere between gratitude that the tests didn’t find anything serious and frustration that I still don’t know exactly why all of this happened.
My latest quilt has been sitting patiently, waiting for me while life threw one curveball after another. Normally, quilting is where I go when I need peace, focus, or a break from the noise. Instead, I’ve spent the last two weeks looking at it from across the room, thinking, “Maybe tomorrow.” Tomorrow kept getting postponed. I won’t pretend that doesn’t bother me. It does. I miss the rhythm of handstitching, the satisfaction of seeing a project move forward, and the comfort that comes from creating something beautiful with my own hands.
But here’s the thing about quilts, they wait. They are patient. You pick them up one stitch at a time, one day at a time. So tomorrow morning, I’m going to pick up that quilt. Not because everything is suddenly fixed. Not because I have all the answers. Not because the frustration has disappeared. I’m going to pick up the quilt because it’s time. The last two weeks may have slowed me down, but they haven’t stopped me.
