A Family Found

We sit around the table in our little ramshackle Highland home, laughing, talking and eating the roasted veg we collected earlier that day from the garden. We have the whole family staying for the yearly family summer trip, and I love being surrounded by so much love and belonging. It feels like family: Messy, chaotic, imperfect, joyful. I’m following the conversation, and start to feel agitated, unsure why. We chat and I suddenly snap at J, feeling weirdly over emotional and then instant guilt. I feel my chest jolt, my arrhythmia flare up and suddenly it’s as if someone has just poured an ice cold bucket of water over my head. My chest tightens, and my breath catches in my throat. Then, my senses start to go- It’s almost like someone has put a glass wall up between me and everyone else at the table. I’m still aware of the conversation happening around me- the smiles, the jokes, the conversation, but I’m no longer part of any of it. My heart races as my hearing slowly becomes more and more distant, I feel cold sweats wash over my skin, my hands feel like TV static, and I know it won’t be long until my vision starts to falter too.

I try desperately to focus on a limpet shell which me and J’s mum decorated the table with, trying my hardest not to let on to everyone what is happening to me. I trace the delicate edges with my eyes, going over every line, every detail. I start to get dizzy, when Jamie catches my eye. I can see from his face that he immediately understands what’s happening. He reaches out a hand and I take it, he smiles sympathetically. The table’s chatter becomes softer, as everyone realises what’s happening. He then helps me from the table and to the mattress on the floor which we’re sleeping on in the living room, we’re all sharing the same while everyone is up. It’s a little cramped, but none of us mind too much, being able to be here together is worth it.

I lie down and try to focus on breathing, while he eats my leftovers in bed next to me. He talks to me gently, reassuring me that everything is okay, and everyone understands, despite my worries.

I’ve struggled with episodes like this for most of my adult life, and was finally recently diagnosed with an arrhythmia called atrial fibrillation. I have triggers like caffeine, alcohol and stress but equally it can also come out of nowhere, with no warning. It can make life harder, and I've had points where I’ve really struggled with it, but I’m thankful for the people in my life who help and support me when it gets a little more challenging. J, along with my mum, have both been huge sources of support in the darker times.

As I begin to feel better, the colour comes back into my face. I get up from the bed slowly, moving carefully, worried that if I move to fast it might break some sort of spell and it will all start again. I manage to walk into the kitchen, and I’m met with the same happy chatter- everyone quick to reassure me that it wasn’t a bother, insisting that all they cared about was if I felt okay. It was the reassurance I needed, so I sat at the table once more, secure in the fact that I had a family around me, and I was part of it.