Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Pardon the Interruption
Sometimes life just walks up and slaps you upside the head, and if you've been wondering where I've been, that's pretty much what's happened.
There I was, minding my own business and vaguely wondering why I was feeling out of sorts and ornery, when suddenly I found myself lying on the floor in front of my usual sofa and thinking, "Gosh. That hurts."
"That," it turns out, was a tiny heart attack, and I credit myself with a certain presence of mind that in the next five minutes, I managed to get up and unlock the apartment door, call Mr. Muscato (off at work), call 911, and then calm the dogs until the EMTs got there.
Now it's five days later, and in the meantime I've learned a few things. One, that I am lucky beyond measure to have a husband like MM (not new information, but made every clearer with every passing moment); two, that family really will come through sometimes when you need them; and three, that apparently for the past several years I've been developing a pretty significant case of heart disease.
There is good news; the attack really was mild, and there seems to be almost no damage to the heart. Of course, there is bad news, and that's the sheer volume of blockage of a number of the surrounding vessels. That I've had two previous alarms in the last seven years that doctors at the time and on two continents tested every which way and declared of no concern is vexing, to say the least, but here we are.
My Dear Sister the Doctor has taken things in hand, and now after these past few days in something I've never heard of called an Intermediate Intensive Care Unit (sort of the business class of ICUs), today I'll be heading off to another hospital, where because Sister's downstairs neighbor's brother-in-law is Chairman of the Board, I'm being whisked to the head of the line for what will most likely be extensive open heart surgery.
So things are going to go dark around here for a few weeks. Everyone is being most encouraging, and the prospects are good. With any luck at all I'll be back to regale you with gory stories and endless complaining about my aches and pains (and doesn't that just sound enertaining as all get out?).
I'm not a big one for praying (although I've always been terribly fond of the music and a little incense), but I hope you'll spare a thought, now and then, not so much for me, but for the Mister. He's in a state, poor darling, and gosh I love him so.
So, for the moment, my dears, au reservoir. Wish me luck.