For the purposes of relieving my mother (the worrier), my sister (the nurse), my father, and several compassionate friends from church and beyond, I am going to state, for the record, that I have NEVER had an actual heart attack. Not a first... not a second... none. I will be talking about a time when there were a number of symptoms going on but it was most definitely not my heart. I would like to say, before I begin, that I am not a doctor, I have not been trained to teach people about medicine or medical procedures, and that I am offering no advice except for this: If you are in so much pain that your wife thinks you are having a heart attack, let her take your dumb ass to the doctor! We now return to the regularly scheduled blog.
I would apologize for the title but the first thing they teach you in the Rich and Famous Blog Writing School is to have an opening that grabs people. Of course there are some people out there who may have read the title and thought, "Yay! Go for three!" To you, I offer a loud and disrespectful raspberry. (Sorry you all had to see that.)
Many years ago, when Kristiana was a toddler and Jake was still an infant, I was given one of the most stressful classrooms I have ever experienced. The difficulties in the classroom are not important to the story, what is important is that, apparently, I hold onto my stress in my back. With the challenges I was facing at work and various other stressers my back was a mess. It was actually quite often that it would feel like someone was trying to sew my shoulder blades together with dull hot needles...and that was when it didn't feel like I had a linebacker balancing on his elbow in the center of my back. Unfortunately, I was semi-used to being in pain back then. (no pun intended) I had good days, not so good days, and bad days, but I always managed to make it to work. My students were accustomed to my strange faces, wincing, and even walking with a cane. I was used to explaining to people that I had just hurt my back...again. No, not in a bar fight. No, not lifting a burning bus off of nuns. No, I was used to explaining that I had hurt by doing really manly things like, picking up a package of Kool-aid, getting out of the car, or standing up. You know, manly activities that require strength and agility!
My story today actually begins on a good day. In fact, I had been having such a string of good days that I forgotten (almost) about my troublesome body parts. It was a normal morning of getting ready for work, making my lunch, and then I went out to get the paper. I noticed that the light over the door was out so I reached up to unscrew it. Something about standing on the balls of my feet, twisting slightly, and reaching for the light bulb made something pop in my back. I was in instant excruciating pain! I forgot the light and tried to inch my way down the hall to brush my teeth so I could go to work. (Did I mention that I was used to this?) I was about three quarters of the way down the hallway when Kristiana happened to run past me toward Mommy. She was excited, she was three, she touched me ever so slightly on the hand as she went by. That was enough to spin me a fraction of an inch, but it was an unanticipated fraction of an inch and that was the exact wrong thing that my back needed.
That slight movement amplified my pain times ten...at least! In a span of about ten seconds I turned sideways, stopped breathing, clutched my chest (because I couldn't reach around and clutch my back), leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor. I couldn't talk. I couldn't take a breath. I was as white as a ghost. Kristiana was worried. Sylvia was worried. I finally managed to squeak out a feeble, "I hurt my back." I stayed there reassuring Kristiana that Daddy just makes that sound sometimes. It wasn't her fault. I'll be OK. I breathed haltingly through clenched teeth while I am sure Sylvia went to get the phone to call 911. She stood over me saying, "I'm calling an ambulance. You can't even breath." Me, stupidly, "No. It's just my back. I'll be fine in a little while. Just don't move me while I sit here for a second." Sylvia was unconvinced but I told her that I had hurt my back trying to reach for a light bulb. It was not my heart. I would be fine. The pain started subsiding, I managed to get up, I took some ibuprofen, and then I...wait for it...went to work.
Just so you all don't think that I am a complete moron, I did call the doctor and set up what was to be the first of many appointments that resulted in my seeing a physical terrorist (not a typo) who actually was a linebacker and, as it turns out, actually knew how to balance his entire body on his elbow while on the center of my back. My apologies to all the other people in the hospital, next door at the pharmacy, and the bowling alley a mile and a half away, who had to listen to my screaming as he "worked out the knots." I was given exercises to do, ways to stand, sit, and lay, and never had an episode as bad as the one in the hallway ever again.
Jump forward a number of years...as a special education teacher I was given several opportunities to go to workshops where they trained us in many areas. I learned how to work with aggressive children. I learned how to do paperwork in new and exciting ways. And I learned how to do Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation.
On the day that we were trained in CPR the instructor was talking to us about the ways we could help people. I went into the training thinking that things hadn't changed much since I started getting my certifications in junior high school. As it turned out things had changed since the last time I took the class. I listened more carefully. Then she said that there were new symptoms for people having heart attacks. Chest pain. Knew that. Left arm pain. Check. Then she said that many people have had heart attacks and not even known it. Wait, what? She said there were signs that do not fit the classic symptoms. One was back pain. She now had my full attention. She went on, shortness of breath. Then she hit the jackpot...Denying to your wife that you are having a heart attack. Uh oh. I thought back to that day when I convinced Sylvia that I was not having a heart attack. I went back in time and re-lived that morning as the instructor added cold sweat and lightheadedness. I was sure I had that back then too. In fact I think I felt a majority of those symptoms again right there in that room! Dangit! Was I having my second heart attack because I was learning about my first one?!
I actually got worried that I had had a mild attack but didn't realize it at the time. Holy cow! As I listened to her go on to the next subject I thought about how I should probably call the doctor to see if there was something to do now that I had this new knowledge. How do I start that conversation? Hello, I think I had a heart attack a few years ago and I think I am having another one while learning about the first! I imagined that they would refer me to another department where they might, wisely, examine my head. I decided to talk to the nurse who was giving the training during break time.
When everyone else went to lunch I walked up to this poor woman who had no idea what was coming and told her my tale of woe, starting with my symptoms. She agreed that it sounded like I had, perhaps, suffered a minor heart attack based on what I had told her. And then I said, "Yeah, and it all started out because I was changing a light bulb."
She said, "Wait a minute. You did something to make it start, and you could do something to make it better?"
"Yes."
"You didn't have a heart attack. They just happen and you cannot make them feel better by moving a certain way. Enjoy your lunch."
I took her assurance and ran with it...and forgot all about it until I opened a letter from my doctor stating that my routine chest x-ray was clear. Good thing...I have to change a light bulb later!
I would apologize for the title but the first thing they teach you in the Rich and Famous Blog Writing School is to have an opening that grabs people. Of course there are some people out there who may have read the title and thought, "Yay! Go for three!" To you, I offer a loud and disrespectful raspberry. (Sorry you all had to see that.)
Many years ago, when Kristiana was a toddler and Jake was still an infant, I was given one of the most stressful classrooms I have ever experienced. The difficulties in the classroom are not important to the story, what is important is that, apparently, I hold onto my stress in my back. With the challenges I was facing at work and various other stressers my back was a mess. It was actually quite often that it would feel like someone was trying to sew my shoulder blades together with dull hot needles...and that was when it didn't feel like I had a linebacker balancing on his elbow in the center of my back. Unfortunately, I was semi-used to being in pain back then. (no pun intended) I had good days, not so good days, and bad days, but I always managed to make it to work. My students were accustomed to my strange faces, wincing, and even walking with a cane. I was used to explaining to people that I had just hurt my back...again. No, not in a bar fight. No, not lifting a burning bus off of nuns. No, I was used to explaining that I had hurt by doing really manly things like, picking up a package of Kool-aid, getting out of the car, or standing up. You know, manly activities that require strength and agility!
My story today actually begins on a good day. In fact, I had been having such a string of good days that I forgotten (almost) about my troublesome body parts. It was a normal morning of getting ready for work, making my lunch, and then I went out to get the paper. I noticed that the light over the door was out so I reached up to unscrew it. Something about standing on the balls of my feet, twisting slightly, and reaching for the light bulb made something pop in my back. I was in instant excruciating pain! I forgot the light and tried to inch my way down the hall to brush my teeth so I could go to work. (Did I mention that I was used to this?) I was about three quarters of the way down the hallway when Kristiana happened to run past me toward Mommy. She was excited, she was three, she touched me ever so slightly on the hand as she went by. That was enough to spin me a fraction of an inch, but it was an unanticipated fraction of an inch and that was the exact wrong thing that my back needed.
That slight movement amplified my pain times ten...at least! In a span of about ten seconds I turned sideways, stopped breathing, clutched my chest (because I couldn't reach around and clutch my back), leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor. I couldn't talk. I couldn't take a breath. I was as white as a ghost. Kristiana was worried. Sylvia was worried. I finally managed to squeak out a feeble, "I hurt my back." I stayed there reassuring Kristiana that Daddy just makes that sound sometimes. It wasn't her fault. I'll be OK. I breathed haltingly through clenched teeth while I am sure Sylvia went to get the phone to call 911. She stood over me saying, "I'm calling an ambulance. You can't even breath." Me, stupidly, "No. It's just my back. I'll be fine in a little while. Just don't move me while I sit here for a second." Sylvia was unconvinced but I told her that I had hurt my back trying to reach for a light bulb. It was not my heart. I would be fine. The pain started subsiding, I managed to get up, I took some ibuprofen, and then I...wait for it...went to work.
Just so you all don't think that I am a complete moron, I did call the doctor and set up what was to be the first of many appointments that resulted in my seeing a physical terrorist (not a typo) who actually was a linebacker and, as it turns out, actually knew how to balance his entire body on his elbow while on the center of my back. My apologies to all the other people in the hospital, next door at the pharmacy, and the bowling alley a mile and a half away, who had to listen to my screaming as he "worked out the knots." I was given exercises to do, ways to stand, sit, and lay, and never had an episode as bad as the one in the hallway ever again.
Jump forward a number of years...as a special education teacher I was given several opportunities to go to workshops where they trained us in many areas. I learned how to work with aggressive children. I learned how to do paperwork in new and exciting ways. And I learned how to do Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation.
On the day that we were trained in CPR the instructor was talking to us about the ways we could help people. I went into the training thinking that things hadn't changed much since I started getting my certifications in junior high school. As it turned out things had changed since the last time I took the class. I listened more carefully. Then she said that there were new symptoms for people having heart attacks. Chest pain. Knew that. Left arm pain. Check. Then she said that many people have had heart attacks and not even known it. Wait, what? She said there were signs that do not fit the classic symptoms. One was back pain. She now had my full attention. She went on, shortness of breath. Then she hit the jackpot...Denying to your wife that you are having a heart attack. Uh oh. I thought back to that day when I convinced Sylvia that I was not having a heart attack. I went back in time and re-lived that morning as the instructor added cold sweat and lightheadedness. I was sure I had that back then too. In fact I think I felt a majority of those symptoms again right there in that room! Dangit! Was I having my second heart attack because I was learning about my first one?!
I actually got worried that I had had a mild attack but didn't realize it at the time. Holy cow! As I listened to her go on to the next subject I thought about how I should probably call the doctor to see if there was something to do now that I had this new knowledge. How do I start that conversation? Hello, I think I had a heart attack a few years ago and I think I am having another one while learning about the first! I imagined that they would refer me to another department where they might, wisely, examine my head. I decided to talk to the nurse who was giving the training during break time.
When everyone else went to lunch I walked up to this poor woman who had no idea what was coming and told her my tale of woe, starting with my symptoms. She agreed that it sounded like I had, perhaps, suffered a minor heart attack based on what I had told her. And then I said, "Yeah, and it all started out because I was changing a light bulb."
She said, "Wait a minute. You did something to make it start, and you could do something to make it better?"
"Yes."
"You didn't have a heart attack. They just happen and you cannot make them feel better by moving a certain way. Enjoy your lunch."
I took her assurance and ran with it...and forgot all about it until I opened a letter from my doctor stating that my routine chest x-ray was clear. Good thing...I have to change a light bulb later!
No comments:
Post a Comment