Looking back at my posts, I see that there is a large gap between this time last year and when I started posting again, and I thought it might be helpful to explain what happened. Life has a tendency to go happily along like a butterfly flitting from one flower to another and on to the next, and then, WHAM! a bird swoops in and bites it in the butt.
On June 29th of 2012, I went to the courthouse to pay the taxes and renew the tag on my pickup and, coming out and down the steps, I felt sick to my stomach. Naturally, I thought, like anyone else would, it was the idea of paying out money that would be wasted and misused, that I could've put to good use elsewhere as needed in my life. Then, again, everyone around here knows what a pain in the backside our courthouse can be. So, when I got to my pickup, I thought if I sat for just a bit I would get to feeling better, but after a few short minutes, the feeling that something was very wrong told me that I should drive the few blocks to my doctor's office and ask them to check my blood pressure.
I must have looked exceptionally ill, because they ushered me directly into an exam room and, instead of simply taking my blood pressure, they hooked me up to an EKG machine. A short strip of paper later, the nurse exited and then came back in and started unhooking me from the machine. Then, another nurse came in and told me the doctor wanted me to go to the ER at the hospital and have some blood work done. So, I left the doctor's office and drove to the hospital, went to the ER, and told them my doctor had sent me.
They were expecting me and had a bay in the ER reserved just for me; apparently my doctor had called over before I arrived. However, instead of drawing blood for tests, I was assaulted by three or four nurses all at once. One hooked me up to another EKG, while another showed up with an aspirin for me to take, and another tried to start an IV, and yet another gave me a pill to put under my tongue. Then, this ER physician came in and said there was an ambulance on its way and it would be taking me to Wichita
Just in case you are reading this from a part of the world that was not in the grip of the drought of that Summer, let me explain that my air conditioner had not been working, and so, I had windows open at home and I was certain that if I was going to Wichita, it would not be a short trip, and I was afraid it would rain while I was gone. I explained to those in charge of the ER that one of the windows was directly above my breaker box, and I needed to close it or the house could burn down. After arguing with them for longer than it would take to go home, close it, and return, they finally agreed to let me go AMA if I could call someone to take me.
I just so happen to have a very special friend who will do almost anything for me, so I called him and asked if he would come to the hospital and bail me out of the ER. When he arrived, I explained that I wanted to take my pickup home, rather than leave it in the ER parking lot, needed to close the attic window and disconnect my computer, in case of a storm while I was gone, and then have him bring me back to the ER so they could send me to Wichita
Everyone should have such a friend as John; laid-back, cool-headed, patient beyond reason. And while I apparently took too much time going up to the third-floor attic and back down - he was concerned enough to come check on me - he had made it up the driveway and not quite to the door before I hollered out that I would only be a minute more shutting off my computer. And I'm not certain he was all too happy with me by the time he had gotten me back to the hospital, but he never made a scene of it, nor did he ever mention it to me. Besides, he would have been more upset had I needed help and hollered at someone else. Such a precious friend.
I hated calling my sister while she was at work; a new job out of town and all, but I figured I had just enough time to let her know what was going on and where I was being taken, and I was surprised that she managed to make it to the ER before the ambulance.
Long story short of it is that I survived my second heart attack, although I did end up with one of those quadruple by-passes. I spent a bit of a month at my sister’s house, and then, that precious friend who had helped me get home to close my windows… well, he ended up in the same hospital in Wichita
I know I missed the 4th of July, fireworks and all, last year. And I honestly don’t recall Thanksgiving or Christmas. It has been slow going, but life goes on, and things are becoming more normal and manageable. This year, I was late paying the taxes and renewing the tag on my pickup. I didn’t care. I waited until the 3rd of July, and when they pointed out that there would be a late penalty, I pointed out that I distinctly remembered the last time I had paid them, I had ended up at The Heart Hospital with a quadruple by-pass. With my no nonsense attitude about it, that was the end of the conversation on the matter.
But it did make me think that I should check my posts here, and I’m glad I did. It’s celebration time, as long about this time last year, I was getting out of the hospital and heading back home. My one year anniversary, and the thought that there really is no place like home.
