Walking into the emergency room, I shook my head and sighed.
"I'd be better off dying after seeing the end of Battlestar Galactica," I thought. Immeadiately following that thought was another. "What, that's going to be your last thought? Or this is? Damn it, think of something good."
But that's jumping into the story in the middle. And as much as I love Tarantino, I think it's better to explain exactly what happened first. (Also, I once wrote a really scathing paper on Faulker's disjointed chronology in A Rose for Emily* and we all know my stance on hypocrisy. I'm against it. For everyone else.)
It was Friday night and after a lovely few hours destroying that which threatens the fair citizens of the Alliance, and I decided that catching up on The Office/BSG that I had downloaded from iTunes would be a lovely way to cap off the night. And it would have.
But it was not to be. All of a sudden my heart felt like it was trying to kick its way out of my chest. Then, more alarmingly, it felt like it decided take a nap after the failed escape attempt. I jumped out of my chair and flipped the eff out. But I recovered (kind of) and allowed myself to be distracted by some more well-written sci-fi escapism.
...Until the second one. Just as strong, this time accompanied with the unnerving sensation of dizzyness and a slight (imagined?) numbness to the left side. I was convinced that I was going to die, and to be honest I was kind of pissed off about it. Here I was just enjoying my show...
Anyway I got my girlfriend to give me a ride and that about catches you up. I mosey'd on in. They hooked me up to an EKG, asked me repeatedly what street drugs I'm on (just Horse), and had me recount what I'd eaten and drunk that day. As it turned out, I'd had a lot of caffine. I never really thought about it as I was consuming it, but the ridiculously large latte, the tea, and the soda I'd had amounted to quite a lot. Coupled with a few hours of inactivity and a pretty vicious cold, I had a recipe for an unsatisfied heart. (I now believe that he was just taking his frusteration out on my ribs.)
So I ask you this, Yes. If the owner of a lonely heart is much better than the owner of a broken heart, how does that compare to the owner of a fitfully palpitating heart? I like to think it's the best of the lot.
- Scott
P.S. Don't worry, I'm fine. I was just overworked/needed rest/third generic "you're not really sick" doctor advice. And lay off the caffine... blah blah blah.
*I chose this angle because the teacher in question went on and on about how great it was. I proved, convincingly that it wasn't. It was my highest grade on a paper in that class (99/100).
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Three milligrams of blogging, stat!
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I love that feeling. It's like there's a fish flopping around in your chest.
ReplyDeleteGlad you are okay. It's scary when you think you are having a heart attack. When I had gall stones, every time I had an attack I was 99% sure I was about to die of a heart explosion-if that's even possible. The last time was the worst. I was at volleyball, and all that was going through my mind was, "Holy crap if I die in the bathroom of the place we play volleyball, I am going to be pissed."
ReplyDeleteGlad you're ok, too! I remember fondly my first cardio-system-freak-out. I was in my bathroom at about 3 am, sitting there all stomach-achey when a high pitched ringing started in my ears and sweat began pouring into my eyes. I managed to squeak out a couple of "help me's" before I fell off the commode and began vomiting violently into the bathtub.
ReplyDeleteScary enough as it was that I thought I was dying...more scary was what I imagined what the paramedics were going to think when they came in and saw me draped head first into a tub of vomit with my underwear around my ankles.
10 minutes later I was fine. Weird...
JV, I'm glad someone reacts to this kind of thing like a man. I mean, I know I was completely being a tratior by seeking healthcare, but damnit, I'm too important to the cause.
ReplyDeleteSarah, yeah it totally is. I really need to stop watching House M.D., Scrubs, Medical Mysteries, and any other shows featuring obscure diseases that I come to know the symptoms of. Becuase it's really just fueling my paranoia.
Kimmy, wow. Just... wow. That story was way worse tham mine. I would have been a bit more concerned if that happened to me. In fact, I probably would have sought medical attentnion the first time, instead of watching 10 more minutes of BSG.
Glad you're alright. That would not have been a great way to go. Me? I want to die saving the world from doom. Very much the self-sacrificing hero to have a million high schools named after him, etc.
Or, you know, live forever.
- Scott