A close call

I woke up relaxed and refreshed last Wednesday, Oct. 9 because the heartburn I had been having off and on for the past couple of weeks was off once again. I had been taking the OTC medicine that's supposed to relieve heartburn symptoms in one to four days because it had worked for me before but I was afraid it wasn't going to work for me this time. In fact, the night before I had just completed the 14 doses you're supposed to take before you wait four months to take them again. As I got out of bed, I thought that maybe it just took longer for them to work this time.

I always look forward to Wednesdays because it's the day most of the faculty members in my building meet for lunch. So I taught my two morning classes and, because I have an off hour at eleven, did some work at the office and then left a little early for the restaurant, which I usually do. Since there were only going to be four of us that day, I got us a booth in the main dining room and started looking at the menu, trying to figure out what I wanted to eat. I also ordered a soft drink and when the waiter brought it, I took a couple of sips out of it. When I did, the heartburn returned immediately and was worse than it had ever been before. I was trying desperately to get some relief when the other faculty members walked in but nothing worked. They could see the distress on my face and asked me if I was OK. I told them I was having heartburn again as they got their menus, made their selections and ordered. Amazingly, I did too.

The orders came quickly but all I could do was look at my food while the others ate. And then I started sweating profusely just as the administrators of the college walked past our table. They carried on a brief conversation with the faculty members sitting with me as I continued to stare at my food. Finally, my friend sitting next to me said I needed to go to the hospital and I reluctantly agreed. Reluctantly because I hadn't been in the hospital since I was 6 years old and hadn't seen a doctor for more than 10 years because I didn't think any of them were as good as they thought they were. But when you're in the kind of intense pain I was in, those negative thoughts about doctors and hospitals go away.

I drove myself to the hospital with my friend following me which was foolish but I still believed I was having heartburn or a severe case of indigestion, even though I knew nothing had ever felt like that before. When I got to the emergency room, the people there went into fast action and diagnosed me quickly as having suffered a heart attack. Their initial decision was to send me to Kearney by ambulance until they got test results back and I could tell by the look on their faces and their whispered words to each other that my condition was more serious than they had thought. The person in charge called a cardiologist in Kearney with my numbers and the decision was quickly made to life-flight me to Good Samaritan hospital and take me immediately into surgery.

Then the scariest thing happened. The doctor in charge told me that if I had another attack on the helicopter that everything possible would be done to revive me and keep me alive until I got to Kearney. I didn't know the seriousness of my condition and thought this wasn't a very wise thing to tell a heart patient who's getting ready to be flown to another hospital so I just nodded my head as he explained this to me. Thankfully, the flight to Kearney was non-eventful. I was taken into surgery immediately and it was determined that an artery running to my heart was 100% blocked. As soon as I heard that, I knew why the doctor in McCook told me what he did. Because of the total blockage, I could have had another heart attack at any minute and the next one could have been fatal. They put in a stent, opened up the artery, kept me for two days and released me Friday a week ago with strict instructions from my doctor that I couldn't go back to teaching for two weeks and that I needed to start cardiac rehab right away.

Most of us have to eventually eat our words over things we've said and this is a case where I do too. Without medical intervention, I would have died last week because I was self-diagnosing instead of letting the medical professionals do that for me. And I was treated wonderfully by all of them, both in McCook and Kearney. I know some of you who read my column have heart problems far worse than mine but, as they say, yours is the only one that gets your full attention.

I've always lived my life one way which is my way. I've done things I'm proud of and a few things I'm ashamed of. I've done things that made life better for me and others and a few things that made life worse. I've lived life on the edge of the envelope and made more good choices than bad, even though it's the bad ones that continue to haunt me. But, because of my heart attack, which I couldn't imagine ever happening to me, I'm going to have to make a few changes.

Not major changes mind you because a person can't change who they are. I'm just going to have to be a little more careful about some of the choices I make.

I've heard from a great many of you since my heart attack through your cards, phone calls, visits, and text messages and your concern for me is deeply appreciated.

I'll be OK and I'll still be the same guy, good or bad, that I've always been.