So I went to a friends house for a party on Saturday. It was mostly his co-workers so I really didn’t know anybody when I arrived.
I’ll digress here and tell you a little bit about how my mind works. I should not be allowed to watch House, Gray’s Anatomy, or ER. Do not ask me about the signs and symptoms of fatal diseases. In fact, do not talk to me about your ill health at all. If you do, there is a very good chance that at some point in the very near future, my body will mimic whatever information it has collected.
So now I’m at the party and sitting at the kitchen table next to a gentleman that was probably in his fifties. I was all set to talk about Michael Phelps or the sinking Yankees or the New York Football Giants. C’mon big guy, bring it on… Patriots fan?… Sox fan?… swimmer in high school?
Somehow he got onto the subject of his morning routine which included three mornings a week of cardiac rehab. So my wife, the LPN, has to start asking him questions. I’m just sitting there trapped, Oh my God, here we go. Please stop talking, I’m begging you. Hey look… there’s smoke near the grill, go and make sure it’s not the house burning down or something.
His wife is now helping him to remember what he has forgotten: how he felt the day before; how he didn’t sleep that night; how his jaw hurt; how his arm and shoulder hurt; how his chest hurt; and how he was sweating. Please just shut up, I am begging you. Look, the pork (it’s the other white meat) and corn are ready. Go get something to eat. No wait, I’ll get it for you.
How do you get up and walk away from a man that is telling you about his second chance in life? I’ll tell you how: You see your kid out of the corner of your eye and start yelling at him for chewing too loud and for not remembering the starving people of Ethiopia before devouring his hot dog.
Well it took a few nights but I’m sitting here now with jaw pain. I’m dizzy and my chest hurts. What do I do? I’ve had 287 false alarms since turning 25. I’ve had leukemia, testicular cancer (shortly after Lance Armstrong), several brain tumors, and two possible strokes. I have a Speed Pass for two local hospitals and a portion of a wing at one of them now handles panic attacks exclusively. One night I even managed to check into the ER, get examined, and slip back into my bed at home before my wife had to wake up for work. She didn’t even know I was gone.
I avoided the couple at the party for the rest of the night. I had a few drinks and forgot about dying for a while. It did make me think very hard about needing to lose some weight though. So the night wasn’t a total Hypochondriac Fest.
If there is not a post to read tomorrow, you’ll know that this was THE time that I should have listened to my body. The problem with listening to your body though is that it always seems to be talking a foriegn language. I hate when that happens!