My Heart Attack (it wasn't)

The cardiologist raises my feet again and puts them against the wall, and before Elvis can leave the building my consciousness comes back and decides to stay for a while.

“Let’s move him to the couch,” somebody says.

“Please don’t,” I manage to mumble. “Not a good idea.” And I mean it. I feel scared because it doesn’t feel like I’m completely in charge of my body. I like to run and work out. I am in great shape, and I am the absolute master of my obediant body.

Not anymore. There’s been a mutiny. I have been betrayed.

I am using all of my remaining athority over my body to accomplish four tasks and fopur tasks only.

  1. Remain conscious (I think I am winning this one.)

  2. Do not throw up (outcome in doubt)

  3. Do not crap myself (dubious)

  4. Do not piss myself (I am so wet I don’t know whether I have won or lost, but if I did lose, I don’t want to lose any more.)

Each of these things requires an enormous effort, which is kind of sad. It used to be that not crapping myself was kind of an automatic thing. It seems fortunes turn quickly these days.

Just as suddenly as my “heart attack” started, it ends. I know that it is over just as I knew I was in big trouble when it started. This is not a guess. I know. It’s as if I’d been riding a roller coaster. The ride ends, the cars stop, and the restraints open. It’s over.

I am myself. I am going to stay that way.

I no longer have to worry about the four imperatives.

I take stock of my surroundings look at the cardiologist and the other concerned faces and say “I think I’m okay now. What just happened? What did I do?”

slap

I will assume the paramedics started an IV? If I had a dime for every time I’ve felt that way, Scylla - in my case, it’s heat exhaustion. Wait - I thought it was…oh my. Around once a month I experience those symptoms while driving to work; I usually pull to the side until they pass.

Well, Happy New Year! Did you at least get to drink one glass of champagne since the ordeal?

Scylla, were you having flashbacks of your blimp attacking you in the night?

cardsfan1975

Oh, the irony.

I repeat:

This shit sucks. Stop posting.

Did you hold a fopourri party? Is that why you were only focusing on fopur tasks?

Hey Kobain, If it sucks so much then quit reading it, ya moron.

Information about both serious and non-serious syncope:

http://www.sbcardiology.com/passing_out.asp

Of course, since Scylla is posting, the good news is that al least he is ok now.

Encore Kobain.

I just hope we don’t get charged for the last installment. How does it end???

I’ve just started reading and am anxious to find out what was wrong. How have you guys been able to deal for nearly 2 hours?

In counterpoint to all the negative nellies in this thread, I just want to say how much I appreciate the serial nature of this thread. I think it’s a great idea, and really adds to the narrative. I do, however, hope that this doesn’t become the next board trend. Once is cool for the novelty value, but more than once would be tiresome.

And congrats on the new kid!

I’d hesitate to say he’s ok.

Give Scilla a break, he’s probibly posting this between bouts of unconciousness.

Piss off Acne.

So maybe it’s time kick back and delegate more responsibility to Paulie or Silvio.

What?

pssst…mazel tov on Baby Scylla, hope you’re okay!

“He’s gonna be fine,” says the cardiologist.

Than to me.

“I know you feel better, but I want you to sit here for a while. You’re at risk for another episode. OK?”

I nod.

“You made quite a loud sound when you hit the ground. Are you hurt anywhere? Did you hit your head.”

I think about this for a second. I feel confident that I am myself again. If I say “Yes,” that I hit my head hard, they are going to call an ambulance, and that will be even more embarassing. And unnecessary. These are doctors. If I say “Yes.” they aren’t taking chances. I am going to have a bump, but my head is fine.

“No. Nothing hurts. What happened?”

“You had a basal vascular incident.”

“And that means.”

"It’s pretty much a perfect storm as far as your body is concerned. You’re not having a heart attack if that’s what you’re worried about. It doesn’t happen to people with weak hearts. What happens is your ventricles contract hard due to some stimulus, like stress, fatigue, or alcohol. Your body decides it is pumping to much blood even though your pulse is normal and it contracts your veins. This cuts off circulation too much, and suddenly your veins realize they have made a mistake. They dilate fully, and this drops your blood pressure down to nothing. All the blood leaves your head, and out you go.

It’s as if you’re body went into shock for no reason. Sometimes this happens as a pain response, or a mental shock."

“So what you’re saying is that I just fainted. That’s it?”

“That’s right.”

“Wow.”

“Has it ever happened before?”

“Yes. Once. I was on a running machine, and couldn’t seem to get warmed up. I just passed out for a second, but I was okay and actually finished my run. I really do feel better. May I get up?”

“Ok.”

My good friend, one of the OB/Gyns shows up.

“I called your wife, and told her what happened and that you’d be late,” he says.

“Oh no. Please say you didn’t.”

“Everything is fine. She understands.”

I look at him dubiously. This may require some explaining. After 12 years of marriage my wife and I have an understanding. Actually we have several, some are stated some are not.

My wife does not want to hear that I had an incident and everything is ok. If nothing is required of her, I can tell her about it tomorrow. She does not like being told something has happened when there is nothing she can do about it. It bothers her. This makes her unsympathetic but this is not the case. Either I am fine and nothing is required of her, so there is no point in calling. Or, something horrible has happened and action on her part is required. If it is the latter, than no man ever had as staunch and stalwart an ally and sympathetic partner, nor a more competant person in an emergency.

Above all, my wife has the grace of discretion. If I do something stupid or hurt myself or something embarassing happens my wife does not make a big deal about it, or worry about it. If I’m ok, I’m ok, she’ll leave me my dignity and not show any hyperconcern. If I’m not she will help. So this call to her was not necessary.

Then again, there is something else.

My friend, the OB/Gyn is a great friend. He is also something of a party animal. So you have to picture this phone call.

Picture John Belushi dressed in a toga as Blutowski in Animal House. He picks up the phone and dials, and in the background people are laughing and dancing and the band is playing “Shout” at full volume.

He speaks:

“Your husband passed out and fell down at the bathroom, so he’s gonna be late. Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s a great party! We’re just gonna sit with him for a while and make sure everything’s ok. Oh, no, no, no, he’s not drinking or anything. Oh, no, no, no.”

Since there were no break symbols at the end of the last installment, asterisks or otherwise, I think it’s safe to say this narrative is at an end.

But probably not.

Aha! See? I was right.

[sub](Marks on calendar)[/sub]

I am told that I must remain seated lest I lose consciousness for at least a few more minutes. A Sprite is brought to me, and I am left to my own devices, and very glad to be that way.

The reason why this is in the pit, and I can’t stress it to you enough is the shame and overwhelming embarassment of having made a spectacle of myself at a party. These are not long-time friends, these are beginning friends. Impressionable friends. If these had been friends of mine for ten years it would be something else. Some of these people I am with socially for only the first or second time.

The only longstanding friend is the OBgyn who called my wife. He’s the only one I’ve known long enough to have dirt on, and not feel embarassed.

The second problem is what will be awaiting my when I arrive home. The understanding was that I would go to this party on behalf of both of us for an hour or two, and then beg out, go home and help her with our newborn child and four year old. The reason she isn’t here is because she’s exhausted.

She has now been woken up by a phone call from a party animal and been told what must appear to her to be a very shallow and dubious untruth. She will think that I have abandoned her with our children and am partying hard and having a great time while leave her holding the slack. Worse, she will think I put my buddy up to calling her to give me an alibi.

It’s not that she’s suspicious or doesn’t trust me. It just seems the inevitable conclusion that a phone call from my inebriated friend must produce.

Tactics and planning are required. I must minimize embarassment in the current social situation, and then get home and avoid being killed by a probably irate wife.

I look at my face in the bathroom mirror, I am still deathly pale and clammy looking. I close the door, wash my face, and start clenching and unclenching my hands. Get the heartrate up and get the blood flowing. I reason that this will bring color back to my face, make me look normal, and that stepping up the old metabolism will be a good thing. I throw in a couple of kneebends and assure myself that I’m not going to keel over again. That would be really embarassing.

Then I go back out to the party to show everybody that I am ok. I will make depecrating jokes about myself, laugh and have a witty normal conversation with each person to minimize the incident in their minds and to return normalcy to the party.

If I do this right, I may yet live this down.

Well, that didn’t last long.