Life gets exciting….

I hadn’t realized that it’d been over 6 months since I last posted.  Alas, here we are, the middle of July, and I’m just getting around to updating the blog.  Things are good, generally… I’m doing a course to start the process of acquiring my Principal’s qualifications.  It’s been just over a week, and two more to go.  I’ve learned a lot, but feel overwhelmed by the responsibilities that one must accept.  It’s scary.  But more importantly, or at least why I post, so I don’t have to keep retelling the story, the events that transpired last weekend…

So, come Thursday morning of last week, I awoke with a pain in my chest.  Bah, I thought… must have slept on it weird.  So, popped an Aleve (my pain reliever of choice), and headed off to school (which frankly, was a good move, in that it numbed me to the academic rigors that I’ve subjected myself to).  The day was fine, though, near about 2:30, I realized that it was painful to take a breath in.  Hmmm.  This call for an immediate nap!  So, off I went.  2 hours later, woke up feeling fine, but decided not to go to pub trivia with a bunch of teacher friends, namely because the bar is so disgusting, and frankly, it would have required effort.  Tried to settle into watch some Dexterand well, that’s when things got interesting.  If I lay on either side, had pain on the left side of my chest, from the tip of my rib cage to the bottom of my jaw.  If I did anything more than shallow breath, shooting pain over the same area and down into my left arm.  WHAT!  Lying flat on my back made breathing all near impossible.  Apparently some PSA stuck somewhere and said you’re an idiot if you ignore the signs, so perhaps you’re having a heart attack.  What!!  (again!).  Me?  A heart attack?  I think not… but I should probably go and get this checked.  In the back of the cab, wondered if I should have perhaps called 911.  After all, this is what these people do for a living right?  But the drama of being wheeled out of the building on a stretcher was not something I wanted to have happen, so off I went.  Checked into the hospital, and had an EKG done.  No heart attack!  SCORE!  But, wait… I’m still in pain…  14.5 hours later (the final diagnosis came in about 4 a.m., but couldn’t be confirmed until a CAT scan at 8:00, meant that I ‘slept’ on a reclining chair, and as expected turns out that I have clots in my lungs.  PARDON!  From what?  And this, my friend, is the dear question that no one seems to know the answer.  I am under 50 ( well… duh), haven’t traveled for a long period of time (uh… flying to Asia was so LAST summer), and don’t smoke.  Oh yeah, and as far as we’re aware, no genetic history of this type of incident, though the fact that my grandparents adopted my mom sort of limits the historical reach of my investigation.  With my diagnosis in hand, a colleague and my mother both standing guard, I finally got a bed and a gown.  Between you and me hospital gowns are not one-size-fits-all.  While the ER seemed quiet, I was assured it was in fact ‘stable’, and was quickly moved into a room on the Cardio floor.  Getting pushed in bed is a nice way to move, I’ll tell you that!  And so I sat, from about noon Friday, to noon Saturday.  37 plus hours at the hospital, and very little sleep!  A huge out-pouring of emotion and support, which was slightly overwhelming.  Everyone and their mother wanted to come and visit though, so I had to defer that as much as possible.  Cause seriously, would that be fair to my roommate Emmanuael?  Though, at 92, suffering dementia and not speaking English, perhaps he would have tolerated my visits.  Alas, noon Saturday comes around, a young whipper snapper doctor prescribes me drugs (i.e. blood thinners and pain killers) and says you’re free to go.  WOO HOO!  Like Mel Gibson… FREEDOM!  I’ve been recovering ever since, and the pain has generally subsided.  Apparently, the clots will take care of themselves, but on a regimented eating schedule for the next 21 days (i.e. 6:30 a.m./p.m. I need to eat, so I can take a pill).

Always looking for the funny part in this (and don’t get me wrong, I realize how fortunate it was that we caught it this way, as opposed to have a blood clot get stuck in the brain), was that an unnamed coworker called the hospital Saturday, to come and visit.  She confirmed my room, then decided in her wisdom to stop by a local bakery near her house that makes Bacon-glazed donuts!  I’ll give you a moment to appreciate those words, all together… when you’re ready, read on.  I’ll wait.  Alright, so she heads to the hospital, and me, doing my best Mel Gibson, leaves the hospital like a Meatloaf inspired album from 1977.  I get home though, and she’s calling like a mad woman!  I’m like “Huh What is going on?”  Well, she went to the main desk, just to check my room number, and they told her “He’s not with us anymore.  I’d recommend that you contact his family for more information”.  AWESOME!  She, rightly, jumped to the conclusion, that I was dead.  At which point that she almost had a heart attack!  Alas, it’s all good.  I’ll be sore for a while, need follow up with a Blood Specialist (was excited, thinking they meant Blood Splatter Specialist… but apparently no), and we’ll see how it goes.  Some have suggested that I might not be able to fly for a year, which if that’s the case, will drive me nuts!  Have a follow up later this week which will hopefully provide some more answers.

To those of you who called, Facebooked, emailed, visited, texted, Bbm’ed, or What’s App’ed… thanks for making me feel like a celebrity.  It’s tough to manage ones social media presence when they’re overwhelmed by emotion.  All I can say is thanks…

Now on to the next chapter.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s