Q: "I heard from [person] that you had a major heart attack...All kinds of
    people are saying it.  Are you ok?"
 
A: If one has a lump of coal in one's chest, one cannot by definition have
   a HEART attack, can one?
 
<DOUBLE SIGH AND ROLLED EYES> It is no secret I have an auto-immunity
disorder (similar to lupus) that periodically attacks various joints and
organs, and flares up during injuries or invasive procedures.  Last year,
the disease attacked my heart, damaging a couple of arteries and a valve.
I didn't realize the problem; I did feel tired and I noticed a change in
heart beat, but like all highly intelligent men, I completely ignored it.
That is, until I was riding my bike with Andrew and Elizabeth.  On an
uphill sprint, I developed crushing chest pain, so after picking myself
off the ground, I biked back to the car and had the kids take me to the
doc (It was really cute.  Andrew drove, and Elizabeth, with her fire and
paramedic training, took control, making me eat aspirin, take deep breaths
and coughing--stuff like that.  What a woman she has become!) A treadmill
(you haven't lived until you've seen "arrhythmia" flash on a monitor
screen), angiocath (the bad news was the 4 foot needle; the good news was
the bikini shave) and numerous threats of sudden death later and I was
scheduled for a by-pass and valve replacement surgery.
 
So, again being highly intelligent, I drove out to California to see my
mom, just in case the 70% good rate was really a 30% bad rate, and to get a
second opinion from some big wig doctor in San Francisco, who cost me more
than I've EARNED this year (and you thought it was just to see ferret
people and frolic in the desert...).  That required a second angiocath
(this one on the other side, oh, fun), but their recommendation was drug
therapy for the valve and stints for the arteries.  Since my arteries are
clean as a whistle (I have gobs of pictures from the angiocath to prove
it), my heart beats like the heart of a 25 year old, and I am a complete
coward, the docs out here agreed.  So, I had one of those through-the
armpit-angiocaths (I guess they thought my walking like Frankenstein from
the two groin pokes would look more comical with a single outstretched
arm), and had stints shoved into my damaged arteries.  I am currently on
"house arrest" for the rest of the month (which I've ignored like all
highly intelligent men).  So that's it.  It wasn't a heart attack, it isn't
a serious problem, and I don't need dozens of get well wishes.  I am fine
and have even started bicycling again (and soon, I'll probably have
permission to do so).  I have better things to do than obsess about Bob,
and probably most of you do as well.  And if you don't, well, you should
get a life that includes something other than internet fantasy.
 
So, now everyone knows why I am on medical leave this semester, why I was
suddenly in the hospital, then on a road trip, then disappeared in
California, why I raced back to Missouri, and why I suddenly have time to
catch up on my long backlog of Q-N-A stuff (you can blame the sudden output
on, ahem, a change of heart).  Now I can tell a story that has been eating
at me worse than a hot dollar in my pocket since it happened.
 
During one of those really fun angiocaths (you do know where they poke you,
right?  The techs don't have "invasive technician" on their name tags for
nothing!), I was a *BIT* sedated with Valium.  You can say I was definitely
NOT concerned with the procedure.  I must have dozed off, because I was
awakened by my doc, who pointed to the monitor and told me I was looking at
the arteries in my heart.  Have you ever seen the dye-filled arteries shown
on x-rays?  I carefully peered at them and remarked they looked like worms.
Then, in a very loud voice, I shouted, "My GOD!  Get this man a VET!  He
has HEARTWORM!!"
 
Even heavily sedated, even during an invasive heart procedure, I think of
ferret related stuff.
 
Bob C and 16 Mo' Heartless Honeys
[Posted in FML issue 3029]