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Guest
Guest
So, Tuesday night my wife and I finished off some her delicious homemade chili. I'm at the computer trying to conclude a story, and I notice my entire shoulder girdle tightening up and I begin trying to stretch to relieve the stiffness.
Then, my chest begins to hurt. I mean, really hurt. Indigestion? Maybe so, maybe not. I get more or less horizontal in my recliner to see if a shift in body orientation will help. No dice, so I call for my wife, a nurse, and tell her, "This really doesn't feel right." By now, my upper back is hurting on the right side and I'm grabbing and massaging my right arm. When I start to complain of a headache, she says, "Let's go."
15 minutes later, I'm in the ER and they're popping the first of three nitro tabs under my tongue. Blood pressure is a rather astonishing 226/125. (A personal best. I'm so proud.) Somewhere in there they wheel in a portable x-ray and shoot a film of my chest. I tell my wife, "Honey, I love you, but if this turns out to be your chili I'm not eating it again."
The third nitro does the trick and I'm wheeled off for a CAT scan with contrast dye. By the way, that is the damnedest feeling when the dye hits--face flushed and so did my asshole. Don't know whether that says more about the dye or me.
Back to the ER and the pain is returning. One more nitro tab and two shots of morphine later, I'm being admitted to a specialized heart wing. Oddly enough, my cardiac enzymes didn't show any elevation that would suggest damage.
A fairly miserable night ensues--I'm not in any pain, but I'm awakened at least twice, maybe three times for labs and another two or three times for vitals. Total effective sleep--maybe 90 minutes. They're pumping me full of clot-busters and anti-coagulants. I'm peeing in a plastic urinal--not one of my fetishes.
In the morning, they tell me that the cardiac enzymes have risen slightly so I'm scheduled for a cardiac catheterization at 11AM. The procedure goes very well (I refused any sedation; the pain was negligible) although the cardiologist was about 45 minutes late. My wife was not happy.
Upshot: 90% blockage in one branch of a cardiac artery. Time for a balloon angioplasty and insertion of a drug-eluting stent to hold things open. Close the femoral artery (where they inserted the cath) with a nifty resorbing clip. Total time since arriving in the catheterization lab: 90 minutes.
Diagnosis: mild myocardial infarction (heart attack).
Back to my room, where I'm informed that I'm staying another night (SOP for stents). Ah, well. I sleep for a few hours, and after awakening slowly and carefully stand up, whereupon I notice a pool of blood on the floor, some on the sheets, and more around my groin. Nothing's spurting, though, so I ring for the nurse and try not to bleed over anything else.
Nurse comes in, checks it out, and figures that the bandage over the incision became saturated and then all the blood ran out when I stood. Charming. I figure maybe the anticoagulants have played a role in this.
The rest of the day/evening goes well; eat, doze, sleep, stare at TV, repeat.
This morning, I'm discharged early with a boatload of instructions, four medications, and an incision that has thankfully decided not to gift my crotch with further red daubings. Hurts, though, and the bruising is spectacular. Off work till Monday, take it easy until then.
How's by you?
Then, my chest begins to hurt. I mean, really hurt. Indigestion? Maybe so, maybe not. I get more or less horizontal in my recliner to see if a shift in body orientation will help. No dice, so I call for my wife, a nurse, and tell her, "This really doesn't feel right." By now, my upper back is hurting on the right side and I'm grabbing and massaging my right arm. When I start to complain of a headache, she says, "Let's go."
15 minutes later, I'm in the ER and they're popping the first of three nitro tabs under my tongue. Blood pressure is a rather astonishing 226/125. (A personal best. I'm so proud.) Somewhere in there they wheel in a portable x-ray and shoot a film of my chest. I tell my wife, "Honey, I love you, but if this turns out to be your chili I'm not eating it again."
The third nitro does the trick and I'm wheeled off for a CAT scan with contrast dye. By the way, that is the damnedest feeling when the dye hits--face flushed and so did my asshole. Don't know whether that says more about the dye or me.
Back to the ER and the pain is returning. One more nitro tab and two shots of morphine later, I'm being admitted to a specialized heart wing. Oddly enough, my cardiac enzymes didn't show any elevation that would suggest damage.
A fairly miserable night ensues--I'm not in any pain, but I'm awakened at least twice, maybe three times for labs and another two or three times for vitals. Total effective sleep--maybe 90 minutes. They're pumping me full of clot-busters and anti-coagulants. I'm peeing in a plastic urinal--not one of my fetishes.
In the morning, they tell me that the cardiac enzymes have risen slightly so I'm scheduled for a cardiac catheterization at 11AM. The procedure goes very well (I refused any sedation; the pain was negligible) although the cardiologist was about 45 minutes late. My wife was not happy.
Upshot: 90% blockage in one branch of a cardiac artery. Time for a balloon angioplasty and insertion of a drug-eluting stent to hold things open. Close the femoral artery (where they inserted the cath) with a nifty resorbing clip. Total time since arriving in the catheterization lab: 90 minutes.
Diagnosis: mild myocardial infarction (heart attack).
Back to my room, where I'm informed that I'm staying another night (SOP for stents). Ah, well. I sleep for a few hours, and after awakening slowly and carefully stand up, whereupon I notice a pool of blood on the floor, some on the sheets, and more around my groin. Nothing's spurting, though, so I ring for the nurse and try not to bleed over anything else.
Nurse comes in, checks it out, and figures that the bandage over the incision became saturated and then all the blood ran out when I stood. Charming. I figure maybe the anticoagulants have played a role in this.
The rest of the day/evening goes well; eat, doze, sleep, stare at TV, repeat.
This morning, I'm discharged early with a boatload of instructions, four medications, and an incision that has thankfully decided not to gift my crotch with further red daubings. Hurts, though, and the bruising is spectacular. Off work till Monday, take it easy until then.
How's by you?
from the good little witch.
