"Holy Shit, I'm Gonna Die On The Toilet"

Taking a brief break from the continuity of this blog for good reason- things got a bit scary this last weekend, so I'm fast-forwarding a month in blogland to write this entry. 

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1.

Last Thursday was a pretty good day. I woke up late, hung out in my room and chilled, watching some TV and interneting. Josh and I drove to Jetpack to meet Rich for one of the last of our Swim Thursdays. We stopped at McDonalds on the way up, and ate double cheeseburgers in the blowing wind of Josh's car, freaking out at the heat every time we had to stop (it was uncommonly cold earlier in the week, making it uncommonly warm that day). We went to one of our favorite places for probably the last time this summer- Ellacoya State Park on Lake Winnipesaukee. We threw the B for hours, loving the coolness of the water, and the fact that at any point there were only 3 other people on the beach. We swam until sunset, then capped the day off with buffaques (which sadly sucked), and a session of hilarious Call of Duty with Heath. I went to bed disgustingly full, knowing I wouldn't feel great the next day. But it was a good day. 

I woke up the next day wondering if it would be my last.

I woke up randomly, quickly feeling oddly horrible. My head wasn't on my pillow and I had a splitting headache. As I moved around more, I realized that my teeth absolutely killed. I'm overdue on having some cavities fixed and I had a root canal last year- so occasional tooth pain isn't entirely rare- but this was different. This hurt more than any teeth ever had, and it was pretty much the entire left side of my mouth. As I sat up wondering what the hell was wrong, I realized my chest hurt too. I was breathing kind of deliberately, and I was just very uncomfortable. I went to the bathroom (damn buffaques always make for an unpleasant experience the next morning) and sat down, wondering if I somehow had an infection in one of my teeth. I had learned earlier in the year that the singer of God Lives Underwater (remember them?) died of a tooth infection, so I knew that something like this being very serious was possible. But as I sat there in the bathroom, everything got worse with every minute. My chest hurt in a way I had never felt before. It was like the worst heartburn ever mixed with muscle pain, but I knew that I had taken it pretty easy swimming, and even if I had hurt a muscle, it was odd that it was only happening on my left side. Then I started to feel my left arm growing weaker- somewhat numb. Wait- I thought, was I seriously having a heart attack?

Everyone knows chest pain and a numb left arm means a heart attack. I looked up "heat attack symptoms" and sure enough, there it was: "discomfort radiating to the back, jaw, throat, or arm." Jaw. Another site said that people had reported feeling pain in their teeth. My breathing became even more deliberate and laborious, and I became more and more uncomfortable every second. Nothing I did made the experience better. I was miserable and it was only getting worse. I've probably joked about this before, but it was actually happening. I actually thought to myself, "Holy shit, I'm gonna die on the toilet."

2.

I finished up and brushed my teeth- if my teeth cause me pain ever, brushing usually helps. This was a last ditch attempt of denial, and it did nothing. I went to my room and sat at my desk for a minute, wondering if this was really happening, running over the words on the web MD site over and over again- to not mess around with something like this- that if I was experiencing any of this, don't try to tough it out, go to the emergency room. 

So I had a weird moment of quiet acceptance and went downstairs to Josh's confused face, as he wondered what I was doing up at 11:30, fully dressed and ready to go. "Please don't laugh at me dude," I said. "I think I need to go to the emergency room. Something's wrong. I honestly think I'm having a heart attack."

And off we went. 

Josh drove through red lights, passed people on double lines right before intersections, and went 60 in 30s. I assured him it had gotten less horrible and the websites said as long as I went to the hospital within 2 hours of a heart attack, I would be ok. But he said it was fun having an excuse to drive like that, and he wasn't gonna mess around with me. 

We went to Frisbee Memorial Hospital in Rochester, I checked in, and off I went to an emergency room.

People came in and pretty much immediately shaved my chest in random spots to hook me up to a vitals machine, jammed an IV in my arm and hooked me up to drugs, and within a half hour had taken blood, an EKG and an X-Ray of my chest. 

After time had passed and I felt better, they let Josh in, which explains why I have pictures of all of this. 

loving life

After some time, doctor after doctor came in asking me the same questions. What was I experiencing? Was I still in pain? etc etc. Eventually, one came in and told me that he was confused because my EKG and vitals were fine, but based on my blood work, it looked like I did, in fact, have a heart attack. When your heart is injured, it releases healing proteins known as Troponin. My level was higher than it should have been, so clearly something was wrong with my heart. The doctor was odd- he stood there half smiling, clearly confused and not knowing what to tell me. He said I would need a Cardiac Catheterization to truly figure out just what was going on, and he was going to call Portsmouth Regional Hospital to see if they could do it today, as Frisbee didn't have the tools to do it. He left and I kind of just sat there with Josh, doing the whole "huh. well. guess I had a heart attack. weird." thing. After about 15 minutes of casual talking, a nurse came bombarding in, practically yelling at me to take all my clothes off. 

3.

She took my shoes and socks off, saying "everything has to go- take your earrings out now." I told her that I would need pliers to  take out my cartilage piercings, and she left to get pliers. She meant business. "Um... Why did this just suddenly get so intense?" I asked. "You're in the middle of having a heart attack, you need to go to Portsmouth now." Uh... what? I guess she took "he may have had a heart attack" as "he's going to die any second." Within 2 minutes, there were 3 more people in there with Josh and I, I was butt naked and wrapped in blankets, being put on a cart with monitors and IV drips, being strapped in and wheeled out to an ambulance. 

Have you ever been the patient in the back of an ambulance? Life is all about experience, right? 

I'm in the back of this

Something I'm proud of about myself is the ability to have a sense of humor in awful times. If shitty times last a long time, I'll be the king of being moody and pissed (just ask anyone I worked with), but generally, if something bad happens quickly, I treat it as either "ok, now I know what's up- how do I deal with this?" or I make jokes to make things better. Worrying and freaking out doesn't help. So, actually, my ambulance ride was pretty nice. I chatted it up with the guys taking care of me, made jokes, etc. Luckily, I knew one the guys, sort of. Kevin/Shaun/Dustin, do you notice this guy? The only name he noticed of the 3 was Dustin. I knew he went to Plymouth, but wasn't sure if I just had a class with him or if we played floor hockey against him or something. 

reunited and it feels so good

We finally figured it out while he was wheeling me through Portsmouth hospital- he used to work at Schwendi Hutte, one of the ski lodges at Waterville Valley. On busy Saturdays, I would be sent up to lodges to help out with cooking, serving or taking money for food. He was one of the few people up there. He even remembers eating a sandwich I created, ironically called "The Heart Attack." One of us has clearly done better with his life.

4.

Riding in the back of an ambulance is pretty weird, but it's also exactly what I would have thought it would be like- looking out the back of a car where every car that was following us had pulled over or was going way slower than we were. It was real weird later realizing that I didn't even know what the hospital I was in looked like- I had only seen the inside of back doors. 

I was checked into my room in the cardiac hall, room 244, where I hoped I would only be for the night (hahaha yea right). 

The first nurses or nurses aids I dealt with were super nice and motherly. They gave me a pamphlet so I could learn what was about to happen to me and made me feel a little better. All were pretty shocked, endlessly hitting me with "you're way too young to be in here"s. I found out that a cardiac catheterization usually happens through the femoral artery, but since I had a strong pulse in my wrist, they'd be able to do it there. They still had to prep me in case my wrist didn't work though, so I got to get nice and awkwardly close with the nurse as she shaved and prepped my inner legs and "down there." I had a nice awkward moment with a nurses aid who was clearly gay when he asked me if I was comfortable with him prepping me and I joked "I'm not comfortable with any of this" and he left saying "ok, I'll get someone else then." It was a joke dude, who would be comfortable with this?!

I then realized that I may have had a heart attack and was about to have a wire inserted into my wrist and dye sent through my veins to highlight my heart so they were able to see what it was doing (that's my quick description of what a cardiac catheterization is) and my parents didn't even know any of this was happening. Once Josh came, I called them, reaching both of their voicemails. I left not exactly the best message, and my Mom called freaking out an hour later. They were of course on day 1 of a 4 day vacation to the cape, down in Hyannis, Mass. A bridal shower, my Dad's frat friends and 4 days of golf. Sorry guys.

my new home

5.

After a few hours of waiting, I was wheeled into have the procedure done, and this was also quite a weird and relatively new experience. I didn't know where I was going- all I could see was the ceiling. The doctors joked and were pretty relaxed, and I was ok, but still honestly pretty freaked out. All I thought of was the scene in Vanilla Sky when Tom Cruise is being wheeled to surgery and he's singing like a lunatic to "What If God Was One Of Us?" and decided to make the moment true and sang it quietly to myself. I was moved onto an operating table of sorts and made basically naked other than a towel covering up my down there. I was now very close to these doctors. They made a joke about how this was when they sang and it was a good thing that I would be all drugged up because I wouldn't be able to hear them. I asked them what they liked to sing and one said that their current favorite was "Call Me Maybe," so in true WTF fashion, I slowly passed out and later woke up from feeling like I was aboard an alien ship being experimented on, all with freaking Carly Rae Jepson stuck in my head. Awesome. 

It was really like I was a captive on a ship- I couldn't see anything, I was covered with sheets and burning liquids, I was in loopy land but not fully, I fell asleep then woke up later, asked them how it was going, then fell asleep again, etc. It was about an hour and I thought it was 25 minutes. I remember asking them what the point of getting me naked was if they were just going to cover me with a hundred pounds of operating blankets. I don't think they had an answer. What a weird, weird experience. 

I was wheeled back into my room where Josh was waiting, reading comics. Rich showed up not soon after, and my parents joined them a little later. Here's a weird shot of my Dad watching TV and Rich standing behind him awkwardly.

Here's what my hand looked like. It looks like I tried to kill myself and I bled green blood. I'm still not sure what that stuff is (Iodine?) but my wrist and legs looked like that for days. 

The doctors told me and my parents that they basically had no idea what was going on with me. My heart looked great- my doctor said it was very strong and all my arteries were working perfectly. They were beginning to rule out a heart attack since everything looked ok, but they still couldn't explain the raised levels of Troponin. Clearly we needed House MD to come in and save the day with some unconventional methods. I was told I would be living there until at least Sunday, so I settled in to my new home.

I had asked Josh to get my laptop, some trades, my book and joked to get Poundie, my Pound Puppy and the only stuffed animal in my room (which he then brought anyway and I was honestly happy to see him). I had a TV with cable and the bed was surprisingly comfortable, even though I had 6 sticky things (I think they're called leads) attached to wires attached to an uncomfortably large battery pack attached to me. At least I was taken off the drip of Heparin (used to stop a heart attack from happening/help heal a heart after one), so I was able to move around. Everyone left and I watched TV until I started to fall asleep (at like 11) and decided to not mess around. I had a long day, it was time to go to sleep. 

Sleep was ok- I was comfortable, but I was hot. Insanely hot. My room was set to 55 and it felt like it was 75 most of the time I was in there. Something about that bed just made heat radiate and multiply from my body to my bed and back. I just lay there sweating profusely while (and this was a miserable  surprise) nurses and nurses aids (LNAs) came in every few hours to check my vitals (blood pressure, temperature, heart rate) or take blood. Try staying half asleep (so I could fall back asleep quickly) while being poked with a needle and losing blood, especially when you don't have visible veins. Oh, also- if a sticky fell off me from how much I was sweating, they would come in and put it back on me, since on their monitor I disappeared or flatlined every time this happened. What a great night of sleep. 

At around 7:30am, I turned over onto my left side and suddenly felt it again. Left arm weakness, chest pain, teeth pain, difficulty in breathing, general discomfort. Awesome, here we go again. 

6.

I hit the button to call the nurses and said "I think it's happening again." Within minutes, I had another EKG taken, more blood work, more vitals, a doctor and nurse in there asking me how I was feeling, and now an Echocardiogram, where they can watch your heart beating through sensors that can shoot sound waves through your chest, much like how they see growing babies. It was a very odd sensation to feel like I was having a small heart attack, being completely uncomfortable no matter what I did, all while watching my heart beat on a video monitor. One of my valves looked like a piece of spaghetti blowing in the wind, but I was assured that it was supposed to look like that. 

I was given morphine to kill the pain (which took way too long to get to the room but did the trick), and eventually another doctor came in to talk to me since the doctor I had met with the first day was out that day. This guy was the nerdiest, slowest talking doctor I've ever spoken to. He had the most rehearsed, uninformative answers ever, and he seemed like he was in pure misery the entire time he spoke with me. He told me that he wanted me to have a Catscan, and within a few hours, I was doing that. 

That was weird- I got wheeled down there in a wheelchair, then slid into a giant open circle, like a billion dollar fruit loop. I had dye injected into my IV and it was a similar feeling to the Cardiac Catheterization- just an overwhelming feeling of incredibly hot water washing over my body- just under my skin. It was kind of nice, but it was weird. A machine voice told me to hold my breath while I held my arms up in the air, and it slid me in and out of the fruit loop. 

Now that I'd had every procedure they could think of, I was left to watch TV and FINALLY eat some food, wondering what the heck was wrong with me. All I had had the night before was a ginger ale, apple sauce and one of the saddest turkey sandwiches I'd ever seen (literally turkey and bread), so I was ravished. 

My parents told me they were en route, and then randomly Rich's mom Carmel and stepdad Wayne came in. I had no idea they even knew what was happening, but they were apparently pretty worried about me, so they stopped in to say hi. Wayne did his best to scare the crap out of me by telling me all of the heart problems Carmel had had, and how family had died of heart attacks, etc. On his way out, he said something about how this had happened to him before- that he had chest pains for days, and after every test possible, they concluded that the muscle around his heart was inflamed, and that was it. Should have led with that, Wayne. 

My parents were next, followed by Dave and Andrea which very much surprised me. Not only did I not know that they even knew about this, but I wouldn't think we were close enough that they'd be worried enough to visit. They even brought magazines and a giant book. Thanks guys!

We all talked for a long time- it worked out to almost 5-6 hours of visiting, which is nice, but also exhausting. I definitely just wanted to sit and watch TV or nap- I was exhausted. I finally got up and walked around a little bit with my parents, and my Mom absolutely destroyed me in a game of checkers. They left and I ordered dinner. I was surprised that turkey with gravy and potatoes and stuffing was part of a "heart healthy" menu, but I ordered it and it was surprisingly pretty tasty. I even got frozen yogurt. 

 

It was crazy how exhausted I was the second my parents left. I fell asleep sitting in a chair 10 minutes after eating, and when I got up and sat in my bed, I zonked out instantly too. Not only had I not slept and had had 2 scary and exhausting days, but I was now on medication that made me drowsy and occasionally dizzy. My blood pressure was super low, my pulse was low, and I was basically not moving. So pretty much any sitting would knock me out.

Too many naps had made me kind of awake when it was bed time though, so I ended up staying up until about 2, flipping channels. I caught the end of Remember The Titans, then watched some of King Kong before finally giving up.

I woke up 3 hours later to pee, and after laying down, a nurse asked what I needed. Apparently my beep-for-help button was broken and it just kept beeping. So an LNA and the blood dude were in my room at 4:45 trying to fix it, while taking vitals and blood. What a great thing to go through when I had barely slept. 

7.

Sunday, I slept in until 8:45, when Dr. Slowtalk came in to mutter about science while I was still waking up. He told me that they had done every test in the world to rule out everything they could, and they were, for now, going with Myocarditis- a disorder/disease (some websites say disease) where my heart was inflamed. Turned out Wayne was on to something. 

And of course, they wanted to keep me for 24 more hours to make sure. $$$$$$$

Thankfully, they were only going to take blood one more time though, and I was allowed to move around a lot more. 

My parents came at around 1:30, and we watched the Patriots game, which, if you saw it and if I really cared, probably wouldn't have been good for my heart. 

As it ended, Josh and Jesse came and brought gifts- collectable lego guys like vikings and Tarzan. It was good to see them, but I was once again looking forward to some quiet time. They left and it was time for dinner. I got pasta with spinach and mushrooms, which surprisingly didn't have any sauce- it was literally exactly what it was called. After the chicken quesadilla with low fat cheese I had for lunch (that was as thick as a small stack of paper because they FORGOT THE CHICKEN), this was a perfect endcap for a disappointing day of food. No wonder I dreamt about eating pizza (why I was eating pizza with Obama was odd though). 

I once again started falling asleep the second after I ate, while watching a football game I didn't care about, and eventually "The Voice." It's odd what can entertain you while you're in a weird medicated/exhausted haze stuck in a hospital. 

I wandered around the hospital for a bit, then sat down to read some of what turned out to be an excellent comic (which I read all of), Locke And Key. I met more nurses and LNAs, I had more vitals taken, and I wandered again. 

Here's a few pictures I took for the heck of it. After having an IV in both arms for 24 hours, on the second night, my nigh nurse Mel had to switch it to my hand. These SUCK having in- you never get used to them, and they always kind of hurt, just enough that they suck. I was squirting blood when she put this in. I made a nice puddle on the floor.

Here's what my right arm looked like on night 2, after she took out the IV (of which I also bled a ton from- I guess I have good circulation).

And here's what I asked Rich to write on the board on night 1. It stayed there for the entirety of my stay. People didn't even notice it until the last day, then everyone asked about it. And yet, none of the nurses erased it. I think they were worried that erasing "DON'T DIE" off a wall might jinx me and I'd croak on the spot. It was still there when I left.

8.

For anyone who has been lucky enough to not have to stay in a hospital like this, let me tell you: It's weird. Not only was I half the age (and sometimes a third- the guy across the hall was 91) of all the other patients, but I lived a very different lifestyle, as they all went to bed at 10 or 11, and got up at 7. My room never got comfortable, and neither did I really. I got used to so much there- the weird hours, being woken up all night, having blood taken, etc. But I never got used to being as filthy as I was (I wasn't allowed to shower and could only scrub areas with a washcloth (and I hadn't showered the day before this all happened, so I was VERY smelly)). I never got used to not having my earrings in. I never got used to wearing the AWFUL johnnies they make you wear. One size fit but was too tight and often hanging open in the back- the next size up was ridiculously huge and uncomfortable because of just how big it was. Once I got some pants, everything was better, but I still craved more than anything to just be able to shower, put my earrings back in, and put on normal clothes. And even if they were strongly strongly recommending I stay on a heart healthy diet and the foods I wanted were out of the question, having to order my food at specific times (the latest they would bring me food was 6pm) sucked. I usually eat dinner at like 830 or 9 at the earliest.

I never got used to not being able to go outside though, or having my 1 window be a view of a roof and other rooms. I wandered the halls looking out windows, just wanting to be able to go outside.

But I got used to having only that space to live in. I got used to switching from my bed to a chair, from TV to internet to reading. I guess I do a lot of that anyway when I'm not out doing something cool, but still. I was surprisingly comfortable for how uncomfortable I was.

Whenever I'm somewhere weird that I'll (hopefully) never be in again, I have trouble just going to bed on the last night. I've always been that way- I want to stretch out the night and really experience my surroundings. So, on night 3, at like 11pm, I wandered far. I even had a nurse panic because she thought I was one of her patients lost and wandering the halls where I shouldn't be. I wandered over to the ICU without realizing it, and things got way more serious than I meant them to be. I found the prayer room, which was small but really nice (and had a CD player with pretty instrumental music),

 

and the best waiting room I'd ever seen, with huge chairs, a huge TV and plants everywhere. Clearly I should have come here earlier.

I found an unlocked conference room where I attempted to do some trick photography of ghost me giving a lecture to ghost me, but it only sort of worked.

And I did a few of these shots, which I really liked, but were very odd setting up with nurses still walking around.

ghosts of portsmouth hospital

I felt pretty cool wandering a hospital at night. There was TV noise from patients' rooms and nurses occasionally doing rounds, but I generally felt like I was alone in an enormous hospital, exploring wherever I wanted to go. Thankfully, I haven't been to a lot of hospitals, but this one was pretty incredible. Huge rooms and fancy, clean style made for a pretty nice stay.

It also got pretty heavy wandering the halls at night, especially when I found myself in the ICU. That prayer room was neat to see, but it had a heaviness to it that can only come from reality- that this room was where friends and loved ones went to pray for whoever was there's life. That waiting room blasting news of football was where people waited out whatever horrible thing they were dealing with. The 91 year old guy across the hall was being prepped for surgery on my last night, and doctors and nurses spent long amounts of time with him, just talking and laughing, going above and beyond for the only reason I could think of- that he may very well not make it through surgery the next day. He could have been dealing with a routine thing, but at age 91, you never know. And their distracting-me-from-my-comic-book conversations could very well be them spending time with him on the last night of his life. His room was cleaned and ready for the next patient when I got up the next day. He may have just been moved to the ICU or even sent home, but I can't stop wondering if that really was it for him. 

9.

I've watched enough Scrubs to know that although patients can be just like computers we used to have to diagnose and fix back in my Apple days, they can sometimes be a lot more. I've  also seen Carla talk enough about how nurses aren't appreciated enough for what they do to agree with her anyway- but this visit really brought that home to me. I dealt with 3 different doctors while I was there, and while the first one (who thankfully will be the one I see again) was ok, the others sucked. They weren't very friendly, they barely made eye contact with me when I talked, they didn't answer my questions honestly... they just seemed like robots who were uninterested in me and just wanted to move on to the next customer before they went off to play golf. My nurse's aids were all very friendly and although some of them were oddly quiet or over-the-top-trying-too-hard, I liked every one of them. But my nurses were spectacular. They were super caring and friendly, talked to me a ton, showed actual interest in what I said, talked to me like a human being, made jokes, etc. I was kind of blown away at the difference between them and the doctors. Not only were they a thousand times better in every way, but they still knew a lot, often times just as much as the doctors, the doctors winning out only because they had looked at the charts while the nurses were guessing. Sure, the fact that the nurses I liked the most were each pretty cute in their own way helped, but even Brad, who I only met briefly on my last day, spent way longer with me than he needed to, really making me feel comfortable and really answering all my questions as best as he could. 

And with all of the realizations and everything I learned and experienced about being in a hospital, on Monday morning at about 1030, I was allowed to go home. A chest pain I woke up with on Friday had taken me on a scary, uncomfortable stinkfest that will cost billions of dollars, and I was finally out. I put on clothes, Josh and Irwin came to meet me, and I said goodbye to room 244.

We stopped at Walmart to pick up my meds and buy some food that's nicer to my heart than pizza rolls and easy mac, and I came home. I had an all time top 10 shower, scrubbed endless amounts of tape residue off my arms, and sat down to my new, absurdly (doctor's orders) relaxed life. Here's what my arm looked like the other day. My wrist bruise hasn't gotten much more colorful, which I'm honestly a little bummed out about.

So what the hell happened to me?

When they sent me home, they were still going with Myocarditis, which again, is an inflammation of my heart muscle itself- the pump part of it.

Basically, my arteries and all the stuff attached to my heart sending blood to my body were working perfectly, and my heart was too. The only thing that would explain the elevated levels of Troponin in my blood was Mycarditis. They had gone from a 9.5 to a 9.8 on the first day, and on Saturday night they were at something crazy like a 10.8. Apparently they climb slowly within 4 hours of an "incident" and peak 12-16 hours later. I was on my way out of this, and this all suddenly made sense. My heart itself was attacked by a virus, which would explain some of the "ughk... I think I'm getting sick" feelings I had had since Monday- the random times I suddenly felt really hot or light headed or tired. The virus that causes Myocarditis is apparently the same that causes the Flu. Sometimes, it just attacks the heart instead. My nurse Brad would tell me that he only sees this maybe 2 times a year, and it's extremely rare in people as young as me. Being a fat guy who eats garbage and has no right doing the hiking and biking that I do (who also learned that- big shocker here- my cholesterol is higher than it should be), everyone immediately jumped to "oh, you have high cholesterol and had a heart condition, you need to eat better and lose weight and you'll be fine." While those would both help curb any future heart problems, this really is completely random. I always joked that my heart hated me- trying to hike a 6 mile mountain at my size while living off of pizza and potato chips, it would eventually just explode. But apparently, other than high cholesterol, it gets along with me just fine. The terrifying thing is, Myocarditis can happen to anyone, and very often, people don't know they have it and can get into a lot of trouble. One internet stat said that 20% of sudden deaths in young athletes can be attributed to this. Kids exercise like they always do and their hearts beat super fast, but since they're inflamed and injured and unable to handle the stress, all without them knowing about it, they have heart failure and in many cases, keel over and die. 

I said that I thought I was going to die on the toilet, and while I was quite scared that I was having a heart attack and thought that I might be in a lot of trouble, I honestly never thought I was going to die. Maybe I've just learned to not be a worrywort, but even though I did worry and not knowing what the hell was going on with me for 2 days was frustrating and scary, I always kind of thought I'd be ok. But now, I think about what would have happened if I was on top of a mountain in the middle of nowhere and had one of these attacks... People say I should never hike alone, but even if I had 10 people with me, what hope would I have had if my heart was beating as fast as it does when I exercise and it couldn't handle the workload while being 3 miles into the middle of the woods? It most likely wouldn't have ended well. 

So while I was extremely unlucky to have this happen to me as randomly as it did, everything else worked out about as well as it could, waking up in my house with this and having a roommate downstairs who could take me to the hospital 10 minutes away. Not to mention that I wasn't a stupid tough guy who tried to tough it out- I knew something was wrong and even though I can be pretty dumb a lot of the time, there's times when you just have to be smart.

I am eating better to help my heart heal and am straight edge again, but the biggest assignment I had was to not do anything for awhile. My hiking and biking life is most likely done for the year. I can take short walks, do light swimming and MAYBE play golf next week, but generally the rule is that I need to keep my heart rate below 90 or so, so nothing that would make my heart beat too hard is allowed. My new life more awesome is going to involve a lot of sitting and lying down. 

This breaks my heart (pun intended) because fall was just starting to settle in, and I was psyched to hike and bike in beautiful fall color. My favorite weekend of the year (Squamtoberfest) is coming up, and I was looking forward to raging the hell out of it. I had also just made plans to go on tour with Caspian for 5 days- literally ride in the van with them, sleep where they slept, carry in and carry out gear, etc. I was going to see them, Cursive and Minus the Bear for free 5 nights in a row, and although I was super nervous that we wouldn't get along as well as I hoped, I was also super pumped for it. It was going to be an incredible experience. Oh well. I guess being alive and not having my heart explode is better than doing all of those things. 

I'm seeing the doctor on October 2nd to see how my heart looks, but judging by how little they were able to tell about it while I was there, I'm guessing as long as I feel ok (which I do now despite the side effects of the drugs I'm on), I'll be told it's safe to slowly bring exercise and cholesterol back into my life. For now, I'm good, and I'm going to use this time to get caught up on my blogs and do some art and music again. 

Let's hope my heart is done messing around, and comes back stronger than ever.

A heart more awesome.

currently listening to: Caspian- Live At Old South Church