My God, I do not want to come back to this topic, but I don’t really have a choice.
Saturday evening my wife Jamie had a mild heart attack.
She was bringing in the groceries and was carrying too much. The entrance to our apartment goes through the utility space, and she collapsed against the dryer. She had all the classic symptoms: chest pain, tingling in her left arm, dizziness and nausea. Once we got her to the couch I gave her a baby aspirin and called 911.
After doing all the necessary tests on her, the doctors concluded that her heart had blocked 100% for a moment and then cleared itself. If it hadn’t cleared itself she probably wouldn’t have made it out of the utility closet. The damage to her heart appeared to be minor and there were no other major blockages.
In other words, if she had to have a heart attack, it was about the best kind of she could have had. Of course, that’s like saying, “If you have to eat a crap sandwich…”
My wife and I fall under the category of “morbidly obese”. This is our third warning. I’ve had two and now she’s had one. She was lucky it was just a warning; I could easily have been writing her obituary right now.
Expect a renewed instance of Put That Freakin’ Sandwich Down, this one done with a vigor that verges on the frantic.
And I’d like to thank everyone who prayed for Jamie and supported me during this time.