I try hard to hide my hurt inside

At work I filled in for a pre-K teacher who went on a field trip with another class to the museum where Anacreon works. It was fun and instructive. Prestigious has a superb environmental science area, with real live animals; the kids enjoyed that. I assisted them in a gross motor class. And I led the kids in a game about matching attributes (size, thickness, color, shape). The other teacher seemed not to care for me all that much and at one point seemed to get a bit pissed at me for apparently interrupting her. I know that some people are just bitchy and don't worry about it. I've been as solicitous and courteous as I can, and I'm not going to let one bad moment worry me when most people at the school are at least polite back.

So. Um. I left early to go to the doctor and it's not very good news. My heart's starting to deteriorate. Right now, the other side of the heart is compensating enough for the poor side's decline, but this is not something that will repair itself. Nor will medication provide anything more than a buffer. I'm looking at long-term care options here, like a defib implant, maybe a full-on heart transplant down the line if I'm (un)lucky? I'm seeing another specialist in two weeks, and then Dr. K might put me on meds for the tachycardia. He even brought up the possibility of a trip to the Mayo Clinic (he said he'd arrange me to be seen free there; and yes, he saw me for free as well today). Perhaps the least cheery thing he said all day was "Another thing we need to consider is your potential for sudden death." Hooray!

So. Yeah. This is, of course, something that in a very real sense I've been prepared for all my life. Indeed, my assumption of a shortened life span is the main impetus that shaped my life into the loseriffic state it's in now, at my advanced age. The tragedy here is that I've just now started something good, a career I can be proud of and want to continue in. I'd like to be starting to grow up and join the world of the not-poor professional at long last, instead of devolving into a full-time invalid.

Well, that's life.