I don’t recommend having cardiac spasms (or esophageal spasms, for that matter), as an accidental means of getting lots of positive reinforcement.  But truthfully, a trip to the ER and admission to the Cardiac Distress Unit can’t be beaten as vehicles for validation from those around you..

My whirlwind tour of NKCH’s newest unit provided me with an opportunity to understand and truly appreciate the goodness of lots of folks, as I’ve blogged here already.  Today, I found myself in court, dismissively referencing the noticeable bruising at the site of the IV line, where bruising testifies to my long-time use of bloodthinners.  The judge, whom I’ve known since she was a LAWMO lawyer and I was an LSEMO paralegal, admonished me for not calling to cancel, and then turned her eyes towards everyone else in the courtroom and instructed them to go easy on me.  Nice.

By the time I got to the office after court, I began to think that working had been a tactical error, Fatigue settled under my eyes and around my shoulders.  A couple of hours later, tightness and fluttering started in my chest and I hastily gathered my things, determined to reach home before the pounding started.  I lingered to talk to one of my suitemates, and before I could get out the door, I found myself sinking into his client chair clutching my chest.  I dug in my handbag for my new vial of nitroglycerin, and handed it over to someone whose hands could get the lid from the bottle.  One under the tongue, three minutes elapse, and I’m feeling better.

So I said my goodbyes anew and headed to Brookside, but couldn’t make the whole drive.  Shaking and tired, I found a quiet table in an empty shop and gripped a chunky mug of something frozen and sweet.  When I finally felt still inside, I restarted my journey home, stopping for a couple of greeting cards and to answer a call from a concerned friend.

By some foresight, I had left the air conditioning blaring, and the coolness flooded over me.  I dropped my handbag, my computer bag, and the day’s mail, and headed for comfortable clothes and a tall glass of cold water.

By 7:30, the sun no longer bakes the yard and I can walk down the driveway, looking at the flowers peaking from under the deck and weighing down the branches of my favorite bush.  At the end of the driveway, where the cedar tree used to stand and where there now grows two small bushes, I stand, looking down, at the mums planted for me by Abbey and John, the young couple who house-sat for me during my hospital stay.  As the evening air surrounds me, and I feel the warmth of the asphalt under my bare feet, I gaze at the hardy mums which were their gift to me, and realize that I’ve got nothing to complain about.

Thank you, John and Abbey. Your kindness means everything to me.