The low down

Well, Saturday before last, started as most Saturday's do. I got up, ran an errand or two, did a little gardening. I got in the shower around 1:00. This is when I started feeling badly. My chest felt tight and my left arm felt weak. I tried to talk myself out of feeling odd. I started and stopped washing a couple of times. Then I just gave up, got out and laid on the bed. I put a Nitro under my tongue. It didn't help. I tried another. This one helped a little so I was encouraged. I got up to go to the bathroom and the discomforted started in full force. I returned to the bed and took another nitro.

At this time the arguing with myself began. Should I call the squad? Of course not! Yep, I'd better do it. Nope, I'll be ok. Time is important. Back and forth.

When I finally called I almost hung up. Once 911 answers you are committed. I gave them the information and got up to get dressed. Here I debated on what to wear (bra? because of the EKG wires). I got dressed, with bra, and went and sat on the porch. Sitting on the porch I called boyfriend and left a message. A friend of my son's is staying with us and I told him to call my son. Squad came, I walked into the grass to the stretcher. They started an IV (in my hand which I usually don't mind but he hit a nerve for my middle finger's knuckle and ouch it hurt). On the way we go. Now this part I like - the cute firemen; the banter; the being important part.

We arrive at the EMR. Vitals are taken, EKG done. The girl typing on the computer is asking me soooo many questions and I'm beginning to hurt. I tell her I don't want to answer all these questions. She gets huffy and says, "When the doctor comes he will ask me lots of questions." I reply, "then let him". She and her partner leave the room in a huff. Now this room is in the middle of nowhere (as EMR's go). No desk, no people millin about people. I'm left there for quite some time. I manage to get the side of the bed down and get to my purse and get my cell phone. I call my boyfriend again and talk to him. I call my movie friend and leave her a message. I wait. I wait. It's beginning to be more and more uncomfortable. One of the Squad guys walk by and see me bent over and rocking myself. He runs off to get someone. He returns and tells me that he told them and that he "guessed" they would be right here.

Finally the doctor arrives, sits on my bed, and in a condescening voice asks, "What do you think is wrong with you?". I blabber about the discomfort in my chest, arm, neck. I compare it to my last heart attack.

He says, "Well your vitals are normal and so is your EKG. So what do you really think is wrong? I think you may just be hyperventilating!"

When I tell it, at this part, I like to say that I looked and him and said, "I'll show you what's wrong!!". In reality I looked at him and said, "Well it hurts more than last time. I think I'm having a heart attack. (Suddenly my hands begin to fell numb and I lean back, lift them and look at them) I may be hyperventilating because my hands are numb."

At this point, according to who you talk to, I flat lined, coded, or as my cardiologist put it - my heart began producing a rythym that isn't conductive to life.

Next thing I know I'm looking into the faces of strangers who all have an odd look on their faces. It's so plain and vivid to me. Bright lights and these odd faces looking down at me. Then my boyfriend is on my right side. I just kept looking around the faces when a lady to my left stands up and announces that she is from chappel services and that it is normal procedure for her to be here to support the relatives of any patient that codes. I looked around the faces again and ask, "Who coded?" To which they responded, "You did". Wwwwhhhhaaaatttt?

At this point I'm vaguely aware of conversation as to whether I shoud be taken to the cath lab now or whether my cardiologist likes to first see me in EMR. I am whisked though the hall way to the cath lab where a doctor I've never seen before announces that I'm having a heart attack and he is going to fix me. I am vaguely aware of them prepping me, and me tellining the doc my story ( Of I'll show you) when I feel like someone stabbed me in the groin. The doc says that that is just the numbing process to which I reply I don't think so.

Sigh.

Next thing I remember is voices telling me to lay still, explaining that a nurse will be standing by me applying pressure to my groin and my chest feeling like a hot poker has been applied to it. My boyfriend is there for a minute looking pained, my son appears, then my ex, then my movie friend (who I remember almost getting run over by a big machine), my sister who I ask, "How did you hear?" We've been in a sorta feud for awhile.

The horrible news that I once again coded in the cath lab is told. The nurse is leaning on my groin and I can't move my head or right leg for 6 hours. I'm very tired and I'm told to lay still and breathe. And the pain in my chest is from them beating my chest, the paddles, or as I like to say, "Them throwing me around like a rag doll!".

Well, Kimmah, that's the story. I got out Wednesday where another story begins. I'll keep that one for later.

Sigh again. I think I need a new heart. I also think I need to make some life changes.