My Affairs of the heart
If you have to get sick on your vacation, do it in Dodgeville,
Wisconsin. I know what I'm talking about, I just survived a heart
attack there. At the time it happened-- 6.00 a.m. to be precise-- I
first made myself think it was heartburn, because, as a severe
hypochondriac, I've learned to discount my own medical judgments.
But then I remembered that my family suffered from bad hearts for
generations; it's a miracle I'm around at all. So I figured it was
probably a heart attack . On the other hand, I had indulged in very
spicy Thai chicken the night before, which argued for heartburn. But
then again ...
I spent about an hour dilly-dallying like that, while my chest
pains weren't getting any better. Nor were they getting any worse. It
was very confusing , and I wished I knew a definitive test to find
out. My friend Ann, who is a pragmatic person, pointed out there is
such a test. It's called death: if you die, you didn't have heartburn. It
seemed a strong argument, so I let her rush me off to the local
hospital.
And here the incredible happened: the receptionist didn't have me
fill out a single form but send me straight to see a doctor. After
some blood tests and nitroglycerine medication, another doctor put
me on a treadmill. I was beginning to feel quite happy again, but the
second doctor looked more and more worried while scanning my EKG.
He stopped the test and hooked me up quickly to a battery of plastic
bottles. Before I could say Blue Cross, I was in an ambulance, on my
way to the University of Wisconsin's hospital in Madison. Speaking of
efficiency!
I must say they know how to treat tourists in Wisconsin. For the
next five days I was pampered by beautiful and kind women. They
held my hand, listened to my heart, wiped my brow, brought me
breakfast in bed and frozen yogurt at midnight. They also let me
watch exciting hard-core cardiac care videos. But all good things
must come to an end, and I was finally sent home with a map of my
arteries that looked like a clogged septic field.
Well, that's how things stand now. My UI surgeon says he'll try to
fix me. I'll spare you the details, but when you read this, I should be
a new person with red, rich blood rushing through my veins. Either
that or this will be my last column. In that case I'll never know, so
who's to worry. I shall enter the hospital with a smile on my lips,
true to the proud motto of my Celtic ancestors: VALOR WITH AMBIVALENCE.
At Random - Adrian Korpel
