Heart Stent

stntI told you something was wrong and I was right on target with my amateur diagnosis.  I was feeling like a heart attack was in my near future so I decided to drive to the hospital.  As I drove just a few blocks I started feeling really unpleasant.  I pulled into the neighborhood fire station and went in feeling like I was having an heart attack.  They checked me out and drove me to the hospital.  Siren and everything.

They wheeled me into the emergency room and directly to the Cath Lab.  I guess this is a regular thing around there.  I watched live on the monitors as they fed a catheter up a small incision in my groinal region up the artery to my heart where they inject some dye and look for blocked arteries with an x-ray machine.  There was one that was pretty bad so they did the balloon angioplasty followed by three stents to prop open a long section of a cardiac artery.  It went smoothly and they even discharged me directly from the ICU rather than keeping me a second day.  Other than a rather sore groinal region, I feel pretty much fine.

I could totally have died had I not gone in.  It’s not uncommon in my family do die at age 48.  My father did and so did his father.  Apparently it is a hereditary condition making it easy tor plaque to build up on my arteries.  My brother better be careful.

So now I’m home resting and waiting for the soreness to abate.  I am lucky to have neighbors who helped me get my prescriptions and check in on me.  Otherwise I would be completely alone.  Sucks to be sick when you’re lonely.

I have an appointment with my cardiologist in two weeks for a follow-up.  He mentioned that I need to go on a vegetarian diet and get control of my cholesterol and blood pressure.  I’ve already been leaning toward a healthier diet so it shouldn’t be too difficult to take it a few steps further.  I think the main cause is my genes.

So how am I handling my brush with morality?   So far, I’m not too freaked out about it.  Dying wouldn’t have bothered me too much except for the fact that I’ve wasted my life working and planning for a retirement future that may not have ever come.  That would have been the major shame not to have enjoyed the fruits of your labor however material they may have been.  But then that’s the point of living isn’t it?  The meaning of life is to have a good time.  Perhaps I should use this incident as an excuse to make sure I DO have a good time with whatever time is left for me.  I still don’t know how though.  Wouldn’t it be lovely to have someone to spend that time with to make it more meaningful?

 

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