The week in review
About this time last Sunday I started feeling an "uncomfortableness" in my chest. It wasn't really painful, but it definitely was a signal that something was wrong. I also thought I felt a burning sensation in my esophagus (on retrospect this may have just been just me getting stressed about the other pain and worrying whether I had taken my prescription acid reflux medicine that morning, even though I've skipped days before and never had a problem). I tried ignoring it, hoping it would go away, but by 9pm with it getting worse (now at a pain level of 4/5 out of 10) I knew I really should get it checked out and not risk waiting until the morning.
I drove myself the two miles to the local 24 hour health center (not quite a hospital, but more than a walk-in clinic). After an hour of waiting, and another hour of some blood work and chest x-rays, a doctor comes and tells me "Start thinking of which hospital you want to go to". Talk about a statement with ominous connotations! They were pretty sure I was having a heart attack. I found that a bit hard to believe because in my view, if you are having a heart attack, you are clutching your chest in dire pain, barely about to breathe (much less be crazy enough to drive yourself to get checked out :). They slapped a nitroglycerin patch on my arm (to help improve blood flow) and started calling hospitals. It turns out I didn't really have a choice at all since my top two picks refused to take me (the doctor said he spent 20 minutes on the phone trying to admit me). So off to the county hospital I went (by ambulance - I wasn't even in bad enough shape to get a cool helicopter ride - darn!). Oh, also, while still at the health clinic I called a very close friend (Tina, waking her up), and said "I think I'm having a heat attack, about to go to a hospital, could you feed my cats tomorrow morning?" :).
At the hospital I given more tests and was fed three nitroglycerin tablets until I felt pain free. They kept telling me they were going to admit me, were waiting for a room to open, or something like that. At one point I remember being annoyed thinking "Damn it, I am having a heart attack, let's speed this up, ok folks?". I was finally whisked directly off to surgery (they had to call the cardiovascular doctor in) to have stents put in the one main heart artery that was severely blocked (at this point it was 2am Monday). They numbed my upper right leg, gave me one shot of morphine, and then started the catheterization procedure (yes, I was still very much awake for all of it). Even at this point I was not all that worried or freaked out, because I viewed stent placements as almost routine surgery these days. I also made a conscious choice not to call any family members and let them know what was happening. The procedure itself took no more than 30 minutes (I think) and then I was wheeled back to a room in the urgent cardiac care wing of the hospital.
The next several hours were boring to the extreme. I was flat on my back, not allowed to sit up or roll on one side, and even told to keep my right leg straight at all times. I had an IV stuck in my right arm, a blood pressure cuff on my left (that inflated once an hour), EKG patches stuck to my chest, and a pulse monitor taped to one finger. Apparently my room was also damn close to the hospital's helipad, because every two hours or so I heard the roar of the Medivac helicopter arriving. For breakfast, I was able to feed myself scrambled eggs (still flat on my back) but a nurse had to spoon feed me cereal (some people might think that was great, me, not so much).
By lunch I was allowed to sit up which made eating easier, My friend Tina graciously stopped by, dropping off a few books and my iPad so I would have something to battle the boredom (besides watching the Zimmerman trial which I really had no interest in but it was the most exciting thing on tv). The rest of the day/evening passed relatively uneventful. Considering I had not been able to sleep at all Sunday evening, I still only managed cat naps here and there during the day and night (more helicopters, more nurses drawing blood).
Tuesday I was hoping I would get released, but they wanted to keep me one more night for observation. I could have released myself but then they wouldn't give me the prescriptions I needed (talk about blackmail). I was moved to a less urgent care room, and everything attached to me was removed except the EKG patches, but they were re-attached to a portable unit I could carry by a neck strap. So for the rest of the day and night, every few hours I got out of bed and walked the halls (by that point I had been allowed to put my underwear/shorts back on - so no bare butt walking for me!).
Wednesday I was released, but despite asking all morning exactly what time that would be, they didn't give me an official time until nearly 1:30pm, saying I would be released in an hour (turned out to be an extra 15 minutes after that). Tina came and got me and drove me home. She is such a super friend. Not only did she feed my cats for three days (and scoop litter), transport my car back home (with the help of her husband), bring me my iPad. but (without telling me) mowed my yard and weeded a bit. I was blown away.
It was only after I was home did I call my parents and tell them what had happened. I just wanted to make sure I was ok before calling them, so they would not spend days worrying about me (since they are in their upper 70s). I did not call my sister, but she saw my post on Facebook (again, didn't post anything online about it until after telling my parents). She responded to my Facebook post and called me Thursday morning, admonishing me to call her no matter when if anything like that happens again.
So, I felt well enough to telecommute for work Thursday and Friday (but only half days for both), and spent the weekend mostly just lounging about (I did go out and see the movie "Monsters University" - ehh). I am planning on actually going in to work tomorrow. I do have the option (because of what has happened) of telecommuting full time for a while, but my boss would have to jump through a few hoops to get that done, and working from home for days on end would drive me stir crazy. I have a follow-up appointment with the doctor who did the surgery on the 17th, and after that, I am supposed to start stress exercise classes at the hospital (although this time I will try to go to the other one I wanted to be admitted in the first place) so they can monitor my heart rate as I exercise.
I drove myself the two miles to the local 24 hour health center (not quite a hospital, but more than a walk-in clinic). After an hour of waiting, and another hour of some blood work and chest x-rays, a doctor comes and tells me "Start thinking of which hospital you want to go to". Talk about a statement with ominous connotations! They were pretty sure I was having a heart attack. I found that a bit hard to believe because in my view, if you are having a heart attack, you are clutching your chest in dire pain, barely about to breathe (much less be crazy enough to drive yourself to get checked out :). They slapped a nitroglycerin patch on my arm (to help improve blood flow) and started calling hospitals. It turns out I didn't really have a choice at all since my top two picks refused to take me (the doctor said he spent 20 minutes on the phone trying to admit me). So off to the county hospital I went (by ambulance - I wasn't even in bad enough shape to get a cool helicopter ride - darn!). Oh, also, while still at the health clinic I called a very close friend (Tina, waking her up), and said "I think I'm having a heat attack, about to go to a hospital, could you feed my cats tomorrow morning?" :).
At the hospital I given more tests and was fed three nitroglycerin tablets until I felt pain free. They kept telling me they were going to admit me, were waiting for a room to open, or something like that. At one point I remember being annoyed thinking "Damn it, I am having a heart attack, let's speed this up, ok folks?". I was finally whisked directly off to surgery (they had to call the cardiovascular doctor in) to have stents put in the one main heart artery that was severely blocked (at this point it was 2am Monday). They numbed my upper right leg, gave me one shot of morphine, and then started the catheterization procedure (yes, I was still very much awake for all of it). Even at this point I was not all that worried or freaked out, because I viewed stent placements as almost routine surgery these days. I also made a conscious choice not to call any family members and let them know what was happening. The procedure itself took no more than 30 minutes (I think) and then I was wheeled back to a room in the urgent cardiac care wing of the hospital.
The next several hours were boring to the extreme. I was flat on my back, not allowed to sit up or roll on one side, and even told to keep my right leg straight at all times. I had an IV stuck in my right arm, a blood pressure cuff on my left (that inflated once an hour), EKG patches stuck to my chest, and a pulse monitor taped to one finger. Apparently my room was also damn close to the hospital's helipad, because every two hours or so I heard the roar of the Medivac helicopter arriving. For breakfast, I was able to feed myself scrambled eggs (still flat on my back) but a nurse had to spoon feed me cereal (some people might think that was great, me, not so much).
By lunch I was allowed to sit up which made eating easier, My friend Tina graciously stopped by, dropping off a few books and my iPad so I would have something to battle the boredom (besides watching the Zimmerman trial which I really had no interest in but it was the most exciting thing on tv). The rest of the day/evening passed relatively uneventful. Considering I had not been able to sleep at all Sunday evening, I still only managed cat naps here and there during the day and night (more helicopters, more nurses drawing blood).
Tuesday I was hoping I would get released, but they wanted to keep me one more night for observation. I could have released myself but then they wouldn't give me the prescriptions I needed (talk about blackmail). I was moved to a less urgent care room, and everything attached to me was removed except the EKG patches, but they were re-attached to a portable unit I could carry by a neck strap. So for the rest of the day and night, every few hours I got out of bed and walked the halls (by that point I had been allowed to put my underwear/shorts back on - so no bare butt walking for me!).
Wednesday I was released, but despite asking all morning exactly what time that would be, they didn't give me an official time until nearly 1:30pm, saying I would be released in an hour (turned out to be an extra 15 minutes after that). Tina came and got me and drove me home. She is such a super friend. Not only did she feed my cats for three days (and scoop litter), transport my car back home (with the help of her husband), bring me my iPad. but (without telling me) mowed my yard and weeded a bit. I was blown away.
It was only after I was home did I call my parents and tell them what had happened. I just wanted to make sure I was ok before calling them, so they would not spend days worrying about me (since they are in their upper 70s). I did not call my sister, but she saw my post on Facebook (again, didn't post anything online about it until after telling my parents). She responded to my Facebook post and called me Thursday morning, admonishing me to call her no matter when if anything like that happens again.
So, I felt well enough to telecommute for work Thursday and Friday (but only half days for both), and spent the weekend mostly just lounging about (I did go out and see the movie "Monsters University" - ehh). I am planning on actually going in to work tomorrow. I do have the option (because of what has happened) of telecommuting full time for a while, but my boss would have to jump through a few hoops to get that done, and working from home for days on end would drive me stir crazy. I have a follow-up appointment with the doctor who did the surgery on the 17th, and after that, I am supposed to start stress exercise classes at the hospital (although this time I will try to go to the other one I wanted to be admitted in the first place) so they can monitor my heart rate as I exercise.