My Ground Emergency

 “DayMay, DayMay, DayMay; I am hit but I am going in anyway.”

That famous line became a reality to me a few months ago. I had just returned home after a busy and demanding day when all of a sudden the world started spinning and my landing gear (legs) retracted without will. This was worse than any F-8 departure or spin I had ever experienced. I knew that something was bad wrong with my systems. I could hardly communicate. I asked the wife to call 911 immediately, if not sooner.

The bright flashers and loud siren arrived and the attendants commenced to poke and pound all over my body. In the mean time I threw up all that I had eaten in the past month, so it appeared.

I knew that I was in deep serious trouble when one of the masked men said, “His blood pressure is 235/139.”

Then they hit me with a Nitro pill of some sort. I knew for sure that I was way outside the envelope and headed for a risky recovery.

I was not too concerned about making the trip to the “Eternity Fraternity” although I thought for a while I was on my way to that land of no return. I had made reservations for that destination long ago. One day we will all make that journey, no matter if we are ready or not. My primary concern was the possibility of spending they rest of my days in a vegetable state or worse.

Upon arriving at the hospital they commenced hooking me up to all sort of weird thingamajigs.  They checked my BP on the port side, and then the starboard side, and determined their machine was kaput. It was not. I was having a stroke.

That dumb costume that they throw at the patient the moment one goes behind those sacred curtains in ER is a joke. It is completely void of backside coverage. And trying to tie the strings in the back, that no man can tie, is ridiculous to say the least. This costume is the first indication that you may be there awhile.

As always they begin with serious interrogation about my existence. I suppose they were wondering why I invaded their sanitary spaces. This must be something akin to breaking into the White House. But in my cases they start with physical harm. The needle punching started on the starboard side of my body for my precious blood that they embezzled and replaced it with some unsightly fluid that percolates down the cloudy tube into my body. All the while they are pumping the BP cup so hard on my port appendage that my fingers turn blue. Finally, they put me on an automatic BP machine that pumps me up every few minutes with the monitor placed in a position that I can’t see. It buzzes and snorts and makes all kind of sounds after each assault on my body. I think for sure, “it is all over.”

Of course the EKG is part of the package deal that comes with the ER invasion. Normally they place a cold salve, fresh from the deep freeze, on many private parts of my body. As I shiver from the frosty stuff they began placing little suction cups on the creamy substance. These little suckers attack my body like a hungry leach. Next they commence connecting 220-volt (I fear) wires to all of the above. It may not be 220-volts but I am not quite sure at this time. I lay in wait for the first surge of high voltage to my body. The little machine groans and growls and spits out adding machine like paper that reads my consequence. The technician is quick to hide the results on the adding machine paper so I am unable to determine if I am ‘alive and well’ or something less desirable. When I asked, “How does it look?” They are quick to exit without saying a word never to be seen again. All the while I am wondering, “Will I make it?”

In addition to the sticky salve they had pretty little strips of colored tape that was placed all over my body. Little did I know that the removal of those little strips of tape would peel my body hair off like skinning a squirrel! Surely that tape had been soaked in super-glue before I arrived. Later I removed a few of the little monsters that were in less dense hairy places on my body with great smarting. I elected to wear the others that are in the heavy hair zones and just let them deteriorate over the next few years.

Finally the Doctor pokes his head through the curtain and introduces himself. My first reaction, “Is he a doctor?” Most of them look like they just rode their skateboard up the hall and invaded your ER room. Finally he starts punching and probing and asks the same questions the nurse asked 30 minutes ago.

“Tell me what is wrong with you?”

I say, “I hurt.”

He says, “Where?”

I play the game and say, “All over more than anywhere else.”

He says, “On a scale from 1 to 10 how much do you hurt?”

I say, “7.234!” That seems to get his attention and lets him know that I am a real person.

Then he asks what I think is wrong with the Cowboys?

I said, “I think they need an ER appointment.”

Finally he says, “I think you need an X- Ray and a MRI.”

I cringe when I hear MRI. That is akin to being buried alive, in a culvert, on the Santa Monica Freeway.

The trip to the X-Ray room was an experience to say the least. They strap you down on this portable bed like object and zoom your body to the next designation of investigation. The attendant performs as if he is trying to break the speed record to the X-Ray station. There must be bets placed on his performance. All the while I am hanging on watching the ceiling zip by at the ‘speed of heat’ noticing that much of the ceiling is in bad shape and many overhead lights need replacing. Objects whoosh by on my right and left, or is it my left and right? I don’t know since I am inverted on the bed. I think I have vertigo! We hit the big double doors to enter the sanctum of no mans land with a large poster “Authorized Personnel Only.” I can hear the big doors flopping back and forth as we race down the hall. Finally we make an arrested landing at the door of the X-Ray room. I think he won. The attendant must have beat the time and set a record. He was so pleased while I was still trying to determine my bearings.

He then rolled me into the cold and dark room where photos of my innards would be taken. Surely the pictures would be in living color? No such luck. My first glance at the technician was unpleasant to say the least. I thought, “This must be the morgue!” This Dracula looking figure, with glasses as thick as Coke bottle bottoms, greeted me with such a cool reception.

“Lay down on the table,” he barked.

I had forgotten about the backless costume that I was issued until I lay on the cold table. That cold salve for the EKG was not in the league with the freezing table top on the X-Ray slab. Wow! What a wake up call that was!

He commanded, “Take a deep breath and hoooooold it, don’t breath” and then he leaves the room, forever. 

Eternities pass. I am turning blue.

He finally says, “Breeeeeathe!” What a relief.

Now that my back is frozen he says, “Turn over.”

And we go through the same process again. Finally he dismissed me with a chilling good bye. It never entered my mind that I must again be the object of a record-breaking race back to the ER room. Sure enough “Speedy” was eagerly awaiting my return trip. His fame had spread throughout the hospital. I think all Departments had a bet on his return record. The hospital staff lined up along the hallway to watch the marathon. He hit every speed-bump at full speed. My body bounced up like it was being ejected. He won again. After signing autographs he put me back on the ER bed.

A few hours later the blood test, black and white pictures of my innards, EKG results, MRI, and the urine investigation was returned.

I thought I heard them say, “We have a problem Houston.”

I said, “Say again.”

The Cardiologist and the Neurosurgeon said, “You have had two strokes.”

“Not me. Can’t be,” I thought.

“Yep, you had two minor strokes but somehow there is no permanent damage!”

During all this time my wife and a host of friends, world wide, were sending priority emergency messages to Admiral Almighty on High. It worked! I am doing great, with no damages.

I have said all of this to say, “It can happen to you as well.” Yet, I hope not. Please have a check up often. If you are taking BP medicine for God’s sake take it as prescribed. If you feel faint or just think you are experiencing a stroke get to the hospital ASAP. And most important keep in contact with Admiral Almighty for quick emergency aid.

I have added humor to this report, but I assure you it was not a fun time. Have a great future.