Heart Attack-Ack-Ack-Ack!!!(Or "I Oughtta Know by Now")

I was certain it was a heart attack.

It was Sunday. My girl and I had just settled down to our dinner, a plate of fried calamari and a buffalo chicken pizza. I remember dabbing a little bleu cheese dressing onto my pizza and popping a salty piece of breaded seafood into my mouth. Life seemed simple, almost idyllic. Laura, my girlfriend, sat rocking our six month old, Anneliesse in her green and blue baby seat as the countdown for the TNA Wrestling Pay Per View was only minutes from airing. We had spent most of the day looking online at a property in cozy Bloomsburg, PA. If all went according to plan, we’d be able to move in by the spring. Unfortunately, life doesn’t always go according to plan.

The first bolt of pain hit me in the chest like a shot. I grimaced and did my best to hide the pain. Alas, I’m no Laurence Olivier. With a concerned look on her face, Laura looked up from her own cheese-slathered slice of pizza. “Are you ok?” my girlfriend asked me. I did my best to nod my head and ignore the pain. I got up and stumbled into the kitchen hoping to walk off the pain. Then another wave of stabbing pain washed over my chest. I clutched my chest, eliciting a cry of distress from the woman sitting on the couch. Then, like the magic, the pain subsided once again. My stomach felt out of sorts and a sheen of cold sweat coated my face and chest.

“I think… I think I just had a heart attack.” I stammered.

“Oh my God! Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Then my pay per view flickered to life on my TV screen. Suddenly the issue of my imploding heart seemed little and far away. Ever in control of my priorities, I sat down and watched in delight as grown men in spandex tossed each other around for my amusement.

“I really think you should go to the hospital.”

“Yeah… After the pay per view….”

“You could die.”

“Yeah, exactly. And then I’d never know who won the title.”

I didn’t go to the hospital that night. I didn’t even go to the hospital the next morning. But as the day dragged on, my conscience and own personal neurosis fed on me like a fat chick at a buffet. I worked the end of my shift and called the Hospital.

“Danbury Hospital, how may I help you?”

“Hi. I think I may have suffered a heart attack last night.”

“That’s probably something you should have gone in for.”

“Yeah.”

“::Sigh:: One moment, I’ll transfer you to the nurse’s station.”

After a moment of listening to a gratuitous advertisement for the very hospital I was calling, a Jamaican woman picked up the phone.

“Nurse’s station, Danbury Hospital… How may I help you?”

“Hi. I think I may have suffered a mild heart attack last night. I feel a little sweaty and my chest is-“

The woman interrupted me.

“You should have come in last night!”

“Yeah…. You’re probably right…”

“One second, I’ll transfer you to the Emergency Room.”

Once again I was reminded of the glory of Danbury Hospital via the magic of pre-recorded advertisement. Another minute passed before I was patched in to the nurse that I had originally talked to.

“Danbury Hospital, how may I help you?”

“Uh, hi. I talked to you before. I think I had a mild heart attack last night and I was wondering-“

“Hold on, I’ll transfer you to the Nurse’s Station.”

Not wanting another heart attack to strike while playing phone tag, I decided against the transfer.

“Oh, that’s alright. I’ll just stop in after work.”

“Good idea, sir.”

Probably the only one I’ve had in some time. After making a few calls to the necessary people, I jumped in my rusted out 87’ Chevy Celebrity and rode through the midday fog and rain to the Emergency Room. Surprisingly, heart attacks precedence in the ER, so I was called in immediately. As I walked into the Triage Room to get my blood pressure taken, I passed a child with a broken arm, a man missing a finger and another with a large gash on the top of his bald head. I stifled a giggle, knowing that the man’s scar would make him look like a walking penis when it had healed.

And then I walked out of the waiting area and into the unknown.