So, I’m visiting a friend’s house for a child’s birthday. I know what you’re thinking: I don’t have any friends. And you are right. Sort of. I have, like, three. And I was at the home of one of them.
His father-in-law was also there. A large, hulking man, built like a defensive lineman. Sort of like a big square with legs.
He comes up to me, and kind of hushed, says “my chest feels a little tight, C. What do you think I should do?”
I ask him about his medical history and all that good jazz. He’s 62, mildly overweight, hypertensive, with high cholesterol. He had a normal stress test a few months ago, and his EKG was “normal” according to the doctors. He’s never had a heart cath, or a heart attack, or anything major happen to him. He takes his medications regularly like he is supposed to, and everything is managed appropriately.
Our conversation is noticed, and his wife comes over and wants to know what’s going on. “My chest feels a little funny, I was just talking to C about what I should do” he tells her.
The next few minutes saw his wife almost have a syncopal episode, fan herself with a paper plate, say “lawdy jeezus” at least three times, and she summoned no fewer than two of her middle-aged concerned friends over. The next conversation went something like this:
“What should we do?”
“Probably put him in a car and take him to the hospital.”
“We should take him to an urgent care center!”
“Urgent care would be a waste of your time. Go to an Emergency Room.”
“Should we call 911?”
“No, just leave now and go to the hospital right up the-”
“I’m calling 911!”
“There isn’t really any need for that, he could be at the hospital before-”
“VICKI! CALL NINE-ONE-ONE! BUBBA’S HAVIN A HARTATTACK!”
“I really think that he would get there quicker if you just drove to the hospital yoursel-”
“BUT HE NEEDS PARAMEDICS! VICKI! WHERE’S THE AMBULANCE!”
“You do realize that I am a paramedic, right?”
“Yeah, but you aren’t working right now!”
I sighed, went off to find some aspirin, and sat down to wait.
To be continued…