It almost doesn’t seem possible, that within 2 years of the first heart attack, the 2nd came barreling at me like a crazed Google driverless car and smacked me down in under 3 minutes.  Very different than the first heart attack that moseyed it’s way to chest pain and short breath over a period of hours.  I was leaning over the bathroom sink coughing up part of a lung from one of those nasty airplane colds that someone was spreading, when I felt a stab in the heart and a stab between my should blades.

It’s the big one!  That statement ran through my mind as I quickly grabbed a fleece, put my wallet in the pocket and dialed 911 as I walked to the front door to open it a bit.  The woman at the 911 desk asked me how I knew it was a heart attack.  Barely breathing and able to get out only a whisper, my thought was WHO CARES HOW I KNOW, but I told her it was my 2nd dance with the demon.  Not that I knew I was having one the first time for around 8 hours.

I dropped to the floor just by the front door, vomiting and just a moment away from passing out.  She shouts my name.  It was annoying.  I really wanted to pass out.  The pain was greater than anything I’d experienced because it was full body–not just heart. No breath, limited blood flow, heart slowed down etc just hits all of the major organs.  I imagine them all screaming in panic and figuring out how to manage the sudden change.

When the rescue team came through the door all I heard was ‘ We have a nipper!’.  That was Franky–I’m sure he was biting anyone trying to move me.  Not sure what he was doing or how they caught him, but I’m glad he didn’t escape out the front door.

I don’t recall the ride to the hospital.  I recall when they took massive scissors to my black Gap T and whipped off my Eddie Bauer fleece pants.  Then nothing until some poor guy couldn’t get blood from me.  It’s a typical issue for me.

Then all I remember is not being able to see anything but black but the pain was so intense that I felt like I was in hell.  Seems while we were waiting for the cath guy to get there (I don’t know where he was) they forgot to give me something for pain.  A Jewish doctor check with me and all I could whisper was ‘pain‘.  He gave me something.  It didn’t work (weren’t they watching my blood pressure?) and he gave me more.  That didn’t work so he switched it up.  Aaaah.  Drugs.

In came the doctor who chose to put in my stents through my wrist.  I wouldn’t recommend it even though I hear people have issues with the groin.  Not that I wanted to get shaved and have some guy shoving stents up that way, but the closeness to the nerves had me almost flying off the table. He yelled at me to not move.  Um.  When you hit a nerve there’s really not much control over movement.  Asshole.  ;>)

Then he yammered at me about what he’d done and I was shipped off to a room.  I appreciate that he was trying to keep me informed, but really, all I saw was his lips moving through a fog.

More soon.

 

 

 

 

 

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