Ah, my first chest pains, like puberty for the middle aged. So I was selling my medical software to some nurses and casually mentioned some pains in my chest. They "casually" suggested I check myself into the hospital. I pooh-poohed the idea thinking it was indigestion or cramps or whatever. The pains continued for the rest of the day and just figured they would work themselves out.
Jen, oldest and dearest friend came over and I told her about my chest pains. We joked about dying and told her I wanted "Luke and Laura's" theme at my funeral and she promised me that her sister Amy would wail and throw herself on my open casket at my funeral. We laughed drank some more Pinot Noir and took a distasteful picture of me in a funereal pose with the dog on my lap. I wrote RIP on the pic and everyone thought the dog died. Of course my hubby would call this "llamando miseria" (calling misery) or just plain old fashioned crepe hanging.
So Jen left and I was left alone in the house with the dog, my husband was away. My anxiety peaked, my chest pains came back so I went online to read about heart attacks. Of course as I Googled the symptoms I realized maybe it was a good idea to go to the E.R. and get myself checked out. Google said call 911, do not drive yourself to the hospital. Of course if I dialed 911, they might take to a hospital that I don't like, which happens to be the one closest to me. I realized they need a Travelocity for hospitals to see which is the best choice. Of course I have some basic requirements for hospitals: they should be by the water and free parking. Mercy Hospital it is.
So I arrived at 8PM on the dot. I had showered and had clean underwear on. I parked and walked in and waited about 25 minutes in the waiting room. To my very gay delight, two extremely muscular, hot, orderlies came out and escorted me to my berth in the ER. They assisted me in disrobing.....so sweet.They preceded to apply sensors to my legs, abdomen and chest. There was pleasant oohing and ahhing over my very pronounced veins, I was sooo flattered. I was almost ready to fake choking so I could get some mouth to mouth. The very gay male nurse (really, are there any other kind?) took my medical history and through some gaydar and nitroglycerin I basically got his life story. Once the word got out there was a gay patient, a parade of cute young (gay?) male nurses paraded into the ER to check out my "vitals". I was wondering why I hadn't had chest pains sooner.
The ER doctor was cute, a "Jewish-Cuban" guy. Older, distinguished and handsome in a nerdy kind of way. We talked about swimming, I mentioned I was on a swim team and all the nurses and ER staff came in and watched Michael Phelps win his 20th Olympic Gold Medal with me. They asked me about strokes and swimming and I invited them all to join me at Nadadores.org for a swim.
So after about two hours I was admitted to my room. A very cute male nurse came and took my vitals again. Asked my medical history, again. The hospital bed AMAZING, it would change to reduce pressure so there was no need to toss and turn. So nice. I slept soundly. Nurses and aides would soundlessly come into my room check my vitals.
In the morning I could see a beautiful sunrise over Biscayne Bay. I had luckily snagged a private ocean view room, sweeet. From my bed I could see sailboats flitteing about Biscayne bay as I read, texted and napped throughout the day. The only sour note were the calls for a Padre Jorge, and apparently the anger when I said I wasn't Padre Jorge, I was about offer confession...but hung up after saying "no speako Spanish" just to be left alone, Garbo style. A few friends popped in to say hi...so sweet. A very hot cardiologist came in and told me I was fine. I was told at noon I would be discharged at 3PM so I called the beauty salon and had a manicure and pedicure. A very nice procedure in a hospital bed. Sweet. 3PM came too soon. At 5:00PM free of angina....I was off to my business trip in Sarasota. Best mini-vacation ever. (except for the food.)