I had started an email this morning when my left arm went "wonky." No other way to explain it. In about a minute I had pain--bad pain--in my left armpit. (I gotta stop using cheap deodorant.) Then I had pain in the right armpit. (I am an equal-opportunity-armpit-pain kind of girl.) Then the pain hit my back.
I am not the kind of person who goes to the doctor or hospital but the pain was bad. If "ten" is a "the pain is so bad I'm going to pass out or die" it was a seven. This was not pain for sissies. I told Phil about it and he said we better go to the hospital.
I couldn't go with hair like that! I plugged in the curling iron and did my hair. Phil paced the floor and said things about my priorities that I will not repeat here. (Bless his heart.) It's a good thing I did my hair because about the time we would be halfway to the hospital I threw up. Throwing up in the toilet is much nicer than doing it in the car. (That's the only good thing I can think of to say about throwing up.)
I threw up my fish oil pill, which floated merrily around while I tried to drown it with contributions of my stomach, which was only water. If I had to throw up I'm glad I had something interesting to watch. You can't imagine how amusing a fish oil pill can be during a tempest in a toilet.
So, they ran tests--how much this will cost me I can only imagine. I had "leads" stuck on every available inch of my skin and I was hooked up to wires. The cuff for blood pressure cut my arm in half every time I got semi-relaxed. (They don't allow relaxation in hospitals. It's a rule.)
They wheeled me by the cafeteria at lunch time on my way to get an x-ray. Roast beef, the technician said as I inhaled, salivating on my gown. I will never taste roast beef again because I am changing my diet.
They said I DIDN'T have a blockage that made part of my heart die but that's about all they could say. After four hours they sent me home. I am supposed to have a stress test next week--which I have decided I aint havin'. Because I'm changing my life and I won't need it. Besides that, people die after stress tests. I've heard stories.
And when I was ready to leave do you know what was written on the prescription pad. "Take and aspirin a day." Does that sound familiar? "Take two aspirins and call me in the morning." I aint callin'. Most expensive dang aspirin I'll ever take.
So, I'm still here, a little nervous that this may repeat but having positive feelings that it won't.
Here's a tip for those of you who are local. Timpanogos hospital is not busy, it's somewhat relaxing. You can almost doze off, until the blood pressure cuff pumps it's self up, that is. I recommend it. But change your life with me, and you will never have to go and the blood pressure cuff will have to retire to Hawaii.