To say it was a surprise is an understatement. Though my habits were such that I knew something would happen sooner or later. As I got older (I was by then 66) obviously that time drew closer. The surprise was that it was my heart that betrayed me after dealing with spinal problems for so long.
It wasn't a hard attack, nor was it painful. There was nothing like in the movies, nor even accompanied by the 'warning signs' - chest pain, numb left arm, etc. It felt like bad heartburn that didn't go away with antacid. It was right in the middle of my chest and I worried I was developing acid reflux. I lay down but that didn't help. When my wrists felt like they were swelling and throbbing I told my wife I thought I would take her earlier suggestion and go to the ER.
They rushed me into surgery and installed some stents and that was it. The rest was recovery. As it turned out even that was abbreviated, thank the stars - I was starving. It wasn't because of the 'heart healthy' diet, but the sheer lack of edible food. The place had an excellent reputation for heart patients, but the usually execrable food for which hospitals are known was even worse than most I've known.
But it is my recovery I am writing about. At first they had me on one floor in the CCU rehab patients. That lasted two days. Most of the nurses there were nice, but one was a really caring short Asian woman whose nursing skills were obvious. Everybody kept talking about when they moved me to a regular room, but didn't say when.
I asked Kim when that would be, and she said they were waiting to see how well I got around when I felt like walking. "Let's go," I said. She got me a walker, transferred my IV line to a portable one and we were off down the hall. Except for the short time that I drifted into a half crouching posture caused by my spinal problems (and to which I became habituated for several years before trying to remember to stand up straight) I did well. Kim even mentioned my stooping posture when she noticed it and I explained, but stood up straighter. I assured her it had nothing to do with my chest or heart, but with the back problem that got me disabled.
After another day of hiking up and down the hall, they moved me. It was at night so there were fewer people around. I hadn't realized until then that my regular room would be on a different floor. That meant losing my excellent nurse, Kim. I think she was sorry to see me go - nearly as sad as I was to lose her. She was the night nurse and I slept poorly so she had come in and sat while we talked late sometimes.
When I arrived upstairs the nurse there was male. He looked like he had escaped some high school play in his costume scrubs. He introduced himself as 'Van' and told me the other nurse's name, writing both his name and hers on the white board at the foot of my bed. I only saw her once when she brought me another pillow so I could elevate my feet. She was the female counterpart of Van, but she seemed more bored and she was attractive to contrast with his gawkiness.
Morning came and a new female nurse came in to give me my medications. She was pretty, chubby and friendly enough. I forget her name because she was so outshone by Jamie, my main daytime nurse. Jamie had black - probably dyed (it was that black) - hair and bright blue eyes. She was tall and self-possessed, obviously confident in her nursing abilities. Well-arranged features made her a shoo-in as the star for a medical drama television show.
