Monday, Monday

The sharp pain in my chest hit about 3 a.m. It didn’t wake me because I am always awake at that time. I googled heart attack, but since it didn’t last longer than about five seconds, I waited until morning to assess things. Mulled it over for a couple of hours and decided around 11:30 to check my blood pressure at the nearest pharmacy which just happens to be located in the same building as my doctor.

The numbers on the BP machine were the highest I have ever seen. Completely stunned, I tried it again. They were higher. Went upstairs to both the duty doctor and my GP but I would have had better luck getting help at Sobeys across the street. Cursing myself for having to behave like an adult, I headed for Dartmouth General.

Apparently, Monday’s aren’t a good time to visit Emerge. There was nowhere to sit and the expected wait time was four hours. About two hours into it, a weird alarm sounded and they called a Code 6. “That can’t be good,” I muttered as visions of Vietnam’s gentle rolling hills faded slightly from my future.

Round about 3:30 p.m., my keen powers of observation kicked in as I watched people who had arrived after me walk into the treatment rooms. “Aha, they don’t think I’m sick. They just can’t tell me!” A quick confab with the triage nurse confirmed it. She couldn’t tell me to stay or go but as fas as she was confirmed all my vitals were normal and my flight was at 8:30 and….Five minutes later I was heading home for final preparations.

Halifax Stanfield, in sharp contrast to D’mouth Gen’l, is like a ghost town tonight. Not a soul in the security line-up  They asked if I wanted to go through again to give em something to do.

So I guess I’m off!