Journal
of a Living Lady #111
Nancy
White Kelly
I made it
through January, February and March of this new year without a hospital
stay. But, alas, April became the
weakest link. Good-bye longevity record. Hello, emergency room
Nineteen days
into the spring-like month I got to take
an ambulance ride. A couple of
hours earlier I was sitting at my computer typing away when I felt this
heaviness develop slowly across my chest. It traveled up the left portion of my
neck.
I immediately
headed to the kitchen cabinet and found the small brown bottle of
nitroglycerin. I popped one of the tiny
white tablets under my tongue. Unfortunately, the bottle had been opened
previously and air had compromised its strength. In spite of the inefficiency
of the tablet, the pain subsided briefly and I went back to my typing.
Ten minutes
later, the crushing pain came on again and I reluctantly went to the den to
notify Buddy that he needed to stay close by. Trouble may be calling. He put himself on high alert. From then on he
was worthless to me and in danger of a cardiac arrest himself. I popped another stale nitroglycerin pill,
but this time it didn’t help much. I considered offering one to Buddy.
Fumbling
through my billfold, I finally found my insurance card. On the back was a phone
number to call if I had questions a
registered nurse could answer. After describing the symptoms to the nurse, she
asked me to put somebody else on the phone. I hesitantly handed the telephone
to Buddy who was pale and sweaty. She told him to call an ambulance
immediately. Well, he tried. First he dialed 119, then 191, and finally 911.
Bingo!
Within minutes
people were pouring in through every entrance of the house: neighbors,
strangers and, of course, the rescue team. My local doctor has retired and I
requested the rescue squad to take me over the mountain to the hospital where
my oncologist practices. They couldn’t do that. The rule was that I had to go
to the closest medical facility. The technicians strapped me to a gurney and
off I went to a local hospital about ten miles away.
The emergency room doctor was waiting and
ordered the appropriate tests. Buddy’s personal physician was kind enough to take my case. Buddy and I
got good care. On the second day I was sent home with orders not to exert
myself and to see my cardiologist on Monday after my scheduled chemotherapy.
Five years ago I had a 98% heart blockage and subsequent angioplasty. It was
quite probable that this present pain was cardiac related.
Fighting cancer
is hard enough. Adding heart problems now was a bit much. I wondered if it I would agree to by-pass surgery while
in Stage 4 of this cancer war. There
isn’t a stage 5 and nobody in terminal stage 4 ever goes back to Stage 3 or
below unless there is an outright miracle. I haven’t ruled one out.
Gracious, I
am jumping the gun. Maybe this current
problem won’t be that serious at all. Chest pain can be caused from eating too
much too fast or be the result of allowing
the family elephant to camp on a sternum.
Yet, there is ample history of cancer and
heart problems in my family on both sides. My paternal grandmother died of a
stroke in her early 40’s. My brother had heart by-pass at the age of 54. My
mother had by-pass surgery a few months before she died of congestive heart failure.
My father would have had multiple by-passes, but it was vetoed because he was
in the final stages of stomach cancer.
Most likely cancer or heart trouble is going to get me in the end, but I
much prefer to die of old age.
By the time
this column gets to press, I will be either better or worse or perhaps
somewhere in-between. I told Buddy if he needs to call another ambulance, to
remember September 11th. That is the ninth month and eleventh day of
the calendar. You know…911. Wanting to get it right this time, he asked, “What
year?”
+++++++++
May
2, 2001
