Tamar Goes To Hospital - part 1

A midnight trip to the hospital, the man driving even though half asleep, the wife almost crumpled in a breathless (literally) heap on the floor mat below the passenger seat. Half a block from the emergency doors, he slows down enough for her to open the door and do a jump and roll, and as he turns around and heads back to his warm comfy wife-less bed, she staggers and stumbles to the emergency room entrance, where the kind doctors and nurses spend a night bringing her back to life.
A phone call home the next morning at 6am.
"Can you come pick me up?"
"Why, where are you?"
You'd almost think I made this stuff up, wouldn't you?

This was part of a blog I posted in 2011, and this proves I don't forget everything. So when my crazy heart went galloping in my chest once again, a couple of Thursdays ago, with a bit of dizziness and pain, I didn't even ask him for a ride to the ER. I went in the bedroom where he was fast asleep, and woke him up enough to tell him I was going to the hospital. He replied,

'Grunt.'

Nikkie dropped me off at the ER entrance, and Steve insisted on accompanying me, even though I tried to tell him I would be okay. That was the first of many attempts trying to tell different people I would be okay. For some reason the ER doctors were convinced I was having a heart attack, and blood work after a 6 hour stint in the most uncomfortable bed in the world showed a rise in enzymes - something that happens after something happens to one's heart. Oops. Could I have been wrong?

(My sister Shirley told me about a time she ended up in ER and the doctors there thought she was having a heart attack. She told them, no, she wasn't, but if they didn't let her go home, she definitely would have one. So they let her go, as long as she came back to do a stress test, which she did. She told me the treadmill was set in front of a big open window, on the third floor, and if she stopped running, she would have been catapulted right through the window. Good incentive, I would think.)
I actually thought they were talking about someone else when I overheard two people saying that someone had to be transferred to the Cardiac ward and that someone would see a Cardiologist in the morning. Because I was almost ready to go home.

I offered to walk to the ward, but that idea was vetoed. I guess that was okay, as my fancy gown didn't have a back in it. But I don't really like lying down and being pushed up and down hospital corridors - it seems like everyone is staring at you. I really wanted to haul the blanket over my head, but I figured people would think I was a corpse and that would probably weird them out. Especially in the elevator.

So. Up to the cardiac ward. Dr Tam came to see me in the morning, and informed me that since it was Friday, there would be no tests that day - I would have to wait until Monday. He didn't think it was a good idea to let me go home for the weekend, although I thought that was a very good idea indeed. That's when he told me I had had a series of minor heart attacks. So I told him that it was probably a good idea to stay,since he put it like that.

I really didn't feel like I had a small series of heart attacks, but you can't argue with a doctor. They have the ability to order very painful tests.

Just after he left, a breakfast tray appeared on my bedside table, and I had my first Heart Diet meal - a bran muffin. A really small bran muffin. There was also a box of Bran Flakes, a milk, a juice, and a coffee.

Now, I'm not one to complain, but I don't like Bran Flakes. I really don't. I did eat the muffin, though, and was pleasantly surprised to see coffee in the cup, and even more surprised when I tasted it and found it ... not too bad at all. I've had worse coffee in my travels, that's for sure.

Later on, I was really glad I had eaten the muffin, because then I found out all about hospital Heart food. That began my 4 day diet of tinned fruit, yogurt, Corn Flakes, juice, skim milk and coffee. 

 Friday night's dinner was supposed to be some kind of stew. I did try to eat it - I took what I thought was a piece of potato, but after tasting it, wasn't sure if it was potato. Thanks to the amazing camera on my iPhone, this picture doesn't look as bad as the real thing. However, it still looked better than Saturday's offering.

This was some kind of pasta. I couldn't eat it. It really looked like something the dog threw up. And I've never before considered carrots a side dish for pasta, have you?

Unfortunately, the nurse checked my tray every meal time to see how much I had eaten. I didn't want to hurt anyone's feeling by saying the food was disgusting, so just told her I didn't have much of an appetite. I had to talk louder though, to cover up the sound of my belly rumbling from hunger. At this point, I considered asking Howard to try and sneak a salt shaker through security. 

I actually thought maybe the doctor was right about my poor old heart, when Howard showed up with a pot of flowers. I know how much he hates hospitals - at that point I thought everyone but me thought I was at death's door. 

It's so good being right!

.... stay tuned .....