u/Front-Fun819

Every time I visit my parents in the exurbs of St Louis, I’m always surprised at my dad’s descent into boomer stereotypes. We went to lunch this afternoon and these are just a few examples:
- called a turkey sandwich with aioli “exotic”
- yelled loudly about how fat people are these days
- after I commented to him about there not being a single non-white person in this very crowded outdoor restaurant (living in a large cosmopolitan city, that was very noticeable and surprising to me) he starts pointing at a black person and loudly says “there’s one”
- he got mad that the waitress was delayed getting our check, while we could clearly see her running around madly trying to serve other large tables

I don’t really have much history of PVCs, but I have had the occasional heart palpitation in the past. A month ago, I learned that my dog had a fatal cancer. At that same time, I was going through possible lay-offs at work. I started developing heart palpitations fairly continuously over the course of almost every day, anywhere from a couple to 15-20 an hour. I caught one on my Apple Watch and shared it with a doctor on a telehealth appointment. She told me it was a PVC and that it was harmless, and gave me some beta blockers, which did help a little. Three weeks later they hadn’t stopped though so I go to my primary care physician. The EKG was normal as was my blood work. He is sending me to a cardiologist out of an abundance of caution.

So on Tuesday, I had to make the difficult decision to put my pet to sleep. It was excruciating and I’m still dealing with the grief, but my palpitations literally went away instantly. If anything I would have thought they would get worse . I did some reading that the neural pathways involved in anticipatory anxiety and grief are quite different. Like going from a sympathetic to a parasympathetic state. So I’m keeping my fingers crossed and knocking on wood that the PVCs have officially resolved for the time being. I guess I need to work on handling my stress better.

I put my 11 year-old dog Wesley to sleep yesterday after only a month since his hemangiosarcoma diagnosis. I told my boss I needed to take some time and if she could move our one-on-one to later in the week. She agreed, and kindly said “they are like family”. But for me, this dog IS family.

I adopted him in 2015 with my ex-partner. Even though we had been together 14 years, our relationship ended the next year. We shared custody of Wesley and remained rather close in spite of our break up. For Wesley, that meant lots of back-and-forth between houses, but he loved us both. Tragically, my ex partner died suddenly in 2020 and I found him deceased in his home with Wesley there. Because of this tragedy, Wesley became more than a pet, but a companion, my safe space and an embodiment of my ex partner. Having never gotten into another relationship and living alone, Wesley was truly my best pal and roomie. Simply having the weight of a dog laying at my feet was so comforting in times when I feel lonely. Over the years, I adopted other pets and still have another dog and two cats, but Wesley felt like a soul mate and my attachment to another life that is now gone. With his loss it’s opening up some old wounds and ripping away a security blanket. I always like to say “this too shall pass“… And this will, but it’s going to take quite some time. Rest in peace my buddy and thank you for getting me through some tough times.