An adventure...

At the beginning of this month I had such good intentions, and originally some decent motivation, to post a bit more often here!  I even have a draft of a post I started right after my last post on the 7th.  And then, just like that, the motivation switched off.

And then halfway through the month, my body must have decided that life was just a little too dull, and I was due for an unexpected adventure.

Before you get too excited or concerned, let me assure you I am at home, and I am okay.  But there is a story to be told, and whether or not you're interested in reading, I going to record it here.  I may regret it later...  but here goes.

It's hard to believe it's been twelve days ago already, but on the evening of Friday (1/16), a few hours after supper, I suddenly had sharp pains strike my mid section. I couldn't tell, exactly, where the pain was originating, but overall, I just knew I hurt like I'd not ever hurt before. 

I struggled to get comfortable for a couple of hours, but nothing helped.  Then nausea started.  As the pain grew worse and became so pervasive throughout my torso, I decided I needed to go to the hospital.  Everything online said if you suspect a heart attack to call an ambulance.  It didn't come on feeling like I imagined a heart attack might feel, but with pain radiating through my whole midsection, it was impossible to parse out what might have been the origination of the pain by this point.  I also couldn't straighten up to walk.  Around 11:00 or so, not at all sure it wasn't my heart, and frankly, not thinking I could walk into the hospital, I gave Greg permission to call for an ambulance.  It seemed to take forever, but a crew of men were finally coming in the front door.  I thought they'd be loading me up and getting me to the hospital quickly now.  Well, as nice as they were they didn't do much but stand there and ask what was going on.  At one point, one did come close enough to get down on my level and ask questions about what specifically was going on.  

I told him right before the pain started, I was riding our new recumbent bike - feeling really good.  I'd just done a couple of HIIT sessions (you know, to get my heart rate up, then rest, then do it again).  After the second time, I decided to get off the bike, get a glass of ice water, and take a drink.  

That's when the pain hit.  Fast and sharp.  And grew as I've described above.  

The young men who first showed up latched onto this information about the recumbent bike and quickly formed a hypothesis that this old lady was so out of condition she'd pulled a muscle in her middle.  Being an old lady who is no stranger to pulled muscles, I tried to tell them this wasn't muscle pain, but they seemed to figure I just didn't know.   It would have been more annoying, if they weren't so nice, and I wasn't so humiliated to have, I think it was 4 men standing in my living room just staring at me - everyone waiting for the ambulance to arrive.  What?  You all aren't with the ambulance?

I don't know if this is common everywhere, but in these parts, (and I sort of knew this, but had forgotten) if an ambulance is called, often, if not always, firemen also show up.  These were the firemen.  Nice as could be, but as far as I could tell, they didn't serve a real purpose.  I don't mean that unkindly.  Truly, if someone can explain why fireman are always dispatched when an ambulance is, I'm all ears.

Finally, the ambulance arrived - we had asked them to please not have the siren on as they came down the street and they obliged - at this point, my humiliation being taxed to, what I thought was surely my limits.  I was so thankful they didn't disturb the neighbors at such a late hour.  And I was thinking just maybe none of the neighbors would even have to know...

At least two more men came in, and the same questions started all over again.  They asked me if I wanted a ride to the hospital?  Confused, I began to doubt everything I thought I ever knew.  We could have driven to the hospital and back a couple of times already!  And they still had not checked my heart.  

I'm probably the one who's obtuse here, but in that state, I didn't understand the point of the question...  I mean, I do realize that EMTs may show up to scene where someone declines a ride to the hospital.  And I can see asking as in "getting consent", but we'd requested the ambulance.  And the question didn't come out sounding like they were asking for consent - though I'm sure asking consent was covered in the question, no matter how it was asked.  At this point, even though the firemen may have thought they were dealing with a pulled muscle, I knew that wasn't what was wrong with me, and I was becoming increasingly concerned it was my heart. 

I honestly don't remember what the conversation was to get them to put me in the ambulance where they hooked up a heart monitor, and they quickly determined it wasn't my heart.  That was good.  I was relieved.

They asked again if I wanted to go to the hospital.  Relieved it wasn't my heart, but seriously starting to feel regretful about all this attention, I began to doubt what I was physically experiencing.  I think I said, "I don't know, let me think."  Like it was a question I might pass or fail on, I sat there for a moment weighing my options.  I knew I needed to be seen by someone, and if turning them away just to somehow manage to get myself into our car, and walk doubled-over into the hospital (if I could manage that), and to sit in agony in the ER waiting room was my only other choice, it seemed ridiculous to not have them drive me there.  I don't know!  I feel like I'm missing something here!?

Okay... so it might be a good time to insert that I can be a bit of a stoic - emotionally, if not philosophically.  My father was a gregarious man who didn't mind sharing his emotions, but my mother held things in.  Never showed fear.  Knew (better than me) how to hold her tongue.  I only heard (never saw) her cry once in my life. It was terrifying. I thought my brother and I had broken her.  My emotional stoicism isn't the caliber of my mother's, but a sense of decorum seems to kick in when I know others are observing me when I am suffering. 

So...  I don't know if it was because I was trying keep the drama to a minimum, and honestly... just breathe (I couldn't get a deep breath at all) - that this is how the encounter went.  Or is this the way these encounters typically go?  It's left me questioning so much - and thinking I'll probably have to be unconscious before anyone ever calls an ambulance for me again. 

Rather than make this crazy long, Part 2 will be in the next post.  Because you know there's a Part 2, right?