August 18th, 2020
As I write this, I'm waiting to be discharged from the ICU at the Soin Medical Center, in Beavercreek, Ohio. I've technically been out of the ICU for about twenty-four hours, now, but as the facility is currently out of rooms in the general population, I've been lingering here since yesterday afternoon. Which isn't so bad, aside from the fact that I'm in the hospital in the first place.
As it so happens, I just had my very first heart attack. You hear stories about what they're like, but until you experience one first-hand, it's all academic, really. Mine started after my shower Sunday morning, when I broke out in an intense sweat, and simply couldn't cool off. And then, soon afterwards, the pain began. In my chest at first, then radiating through my arms, neck, and back.
In the back of my head, I knew what was happening, but I thought I'd give myself time to 'get over it.' That lasted a whole twenty minutes, at which point I told Brenda that I probably should call 911. She dialed them up, and within five minutes they were at our house - which is pretty good, since we do not live in a city. No, Yellow Springs is many things, but I wouldn't call it urban.
After that, the next few hours were a blur of shouting, needles, and medical personnel. I acutely remember what was done to me, but none of the faces involved really stuck. I have been given two stents and a small pharmacy worth of drugs, and as a result the damage to my heart was minimal. I guess it's a good thing that my pain tolerance is so low, and that I didn't try to stick it out for a few hours. Or days!
At this point, I mostly feel okay. I am finding myself easily winded whenever I attempt to do anything, but I assume that's to be expected.
Since I lived through this awful chicanery, my overriding goal is now to ensure that it never, ever happens again. The doctors want me to lower my cholesterol, blood sugar, and stress, which I believe I can manage with a whole lot of work. Not that I'll be attempting this by myself, of course, since they want me to get cardiac therapy and physical therapy and probably therapy therapy.
And that's fine. Sure, it'll all be a pain, but I'm okay with that. I've only got one me, after all, and if I'm to stick around until they perfect robot body replacements, I'm going to have to take better care of myself. Much better. I've got too much to live for to do all this in half-measures, so it's time for me to check myself, and to stop behaving in a fashion that clearly wasn't working for me.
So that's that, I guess. Despite my best efforts, I'm apparently still here. I'll provide (probably) irregular updates about my progress as I (hopefully) reach important milestones in both my recovery and in my agenda to build a better, more longer-lasting me. Apologies to everyone I panicked over all this, and hopefully you'll be able to marvel at the all-new, all-different me in (relatively) short order!