Tuesday, November 8, 2011
How do you tell someone you love them when you are dead
Someone is pushing bad shit out there tonight, my busy ER nurse informed me. Apparently seven ODs on a Sunday night is large number at the Credit Valley ER. Patients from Saturday, were already lined up in the hallways, with exhausted, vigil holding, parents, children or spouses, curled up in chairs or camped out on the floor. I guess the drug network breaks down in the suburbs, I thought When I was a kid, Chum’s Pritchard would warn us, by placing inane statements between sets. Something like We don’t play ABBA around here any more, the water has been too deep since last Thursday, meaning of course, don’t buy the Swedish Liquid that just hit town, because people are freaking out.
Pritchard is dead now and Chum is a hot AC station, but you would think that the wired twitter recreation, generation, would at least, check out the reviews, before they swallowed, snorted or shot some branded product into their bodies. I mean nothing sells without a brand, But all that didn’t really matter, because I was on the old man’s high, comfortably stretched out in bed number one, since late Saturday afternoon. The low tech Matrix like wiring, didn’t require a code warrior to monitor my heart beat and oxogen levels, just a continuous scan that you could upset by tapping the tunes in your head with the laser like finger clamp and there are some good tunes in my head (read yesterday’s post). I was surprised last year when I became the longest living male in my family tree. Every male before me either died instantly of a massive coronary or stretched out an additional year with some form of cardiomyopathy. Hell who knew that heart attacks felt like a combination of carpal syndrome and heart burn. I had the first one on Friday while driving along the 403 and after a smoke, a rest and a couple of scotch I was feeling pretty normal. The second one on Saturday was about the same, but got me thinking that there might be something amiss. One of my granddaughters was spending one of her special nights with us and since I am one of the most important people in her world, or so I am told, I thought it might not be a good idea to die in front of her. So off to the Credit Valley it was. So now that the drugs have worn off, the big deal with heart attacks is to quickly get an angiogram, which is shooting dye through your veins. Without the radioactive blue dyed view, everyone is only guessing. Sitting here for my fourth night it appears that getting one was the hitch. They have to share the equipment between two hospitals. But hooray, hooray I am on my way and by this time tomorrow I will either have had an agioplasty or be planning some future bypass surgery, but either way I am out of here on Thursday. I ‘ll let you know what happens.