Robots

For a long time I was referred to as a robot. As similar to the Tin Man.

In the last few years I've grown. I've gotten more emotional. Come in to my own. Shown some vulnerability. Which, side note, is really hard and maybe a little stupid. But mostly just really hard.

I can say I love you without looking at the floor. Sometimes. This takes time and work. A lot. Robots don't just turn into people over night. This takes prodding and love and work and a very patient partner. And, some crying. (Yes, I cry. Sometimes. Shut up. I will punch you. Hard.)

I put myself out there. I got scared. I got brave.

And, then, much like the Grinch, my heart grew a couple sizes.

From my love, a robot. With a heart.

So, imagine my surprise when I found myself in the hospital being monitored with heart palpitations, chest pain and shortness of breath. All I could think was I finally got a heart and now the god damn thing is busted. BUSTED.

Lots of tests. EKGs, Xray, blood work. Trip to the cardiologist. Weeks went by. No alcohol, sugar, caffeine. I was good. I followed the instructions. I like this heart thing. Within limits. I don't want to be so sensitive and vulnerable that it kills me. That seems ill advised.

Turns out my busted recently grown heart is fine.

I have asthma.

News to me. But, when I am in a place with poor air quality, like Las Vegas, where I was right before all this started... a side effect of asthma can be chest pain and palpitations. Who knew? Well, the cardiologist, did. (He also appeared to be Doogie Howser's younger brother, but that is a different post.)

So, I guess I'm keeping this heart. I worked hard to get it from the crunchy outside. And, I'm going to keep on trying. I'm going to let it grow. A little.

But, if it gives me any trouble...



I'm not a romantic, but even I concede that the heart does not exist solely for the purpose to pump blood. 
- Downton Abbey