Sparring again with old medical demons
This is how it is.
I am attacked by shadow fears. I had my heart attack and triple bypass 19 years and six months ago. Symptoms made me ask a close friend, Chip Scanlan, to take me to a hospital emergency room. What were the symptoms? I felt funny. I didn't want to be alone. The walls seemed to be edging closer and closer.
Old men with heart disease read themselves constantly, interpreting the twinges and flickers, the tugs and pulls that are only discomfort, not pain -- yet.
This self-awareness goes against everything they have been taught. When I cried as a child, Mother said, ''Don't be a baby. Be a little man." My father told me to, ''Be a man's man" while he whipped me with the leather razor strap. I am not critical of them. All my friends were spanked and told to be little men.
Violence at home meant violence on the street. ''Take five" meant five bare knuckles upside my head. No tears or I'd meet Mr. Fist. My football coach barked, ''Grab grass!" when I had trouble getting on my feet after an effective block.
In combat with the paratroops in World War II, I was a swaggery, chauvinistic man's man, trained to ignore pain and hide my emotions. Now, I am an old man with a heart condition, and I have to read my body, paying close attention to twinges, flickering heart beats, unexpected discomforts, even premonitions.
The other afternoon as I sat at my computer, I felt a ''sort-of-pressure" in my right chest. Yes, it was familiar, and I had to remind myself, I haven't gone yet. Perhaps slight pressure is a muscle pull, but I don't do muscles these days.
I remembered the leftover deep-dish pizza I had for lunch, but it wasn't spicy, and I rarely have indigestion. However, it might be a good idea to chew a couple of Maalox tablets. Then I'd know if it wasn't a heart attack.
The slight pressure in my chest seemed to diminish as I chewed, well kind of seemed less, but it didn't go away.
Perhaps I should stick a tiny nitro pill under my tongue. It happily burned away and the pressure, covering the area about the size of a quarter, seemed to lessen.
I say seemed because I couldn't really tell. Of course, I imagined my last ride in an ambulance to the hospital in the middle of the night. I couldn't erase the memory, and the more I remembered, the slight discomfort seemed to increase slightly.
I called my cardiologist and spoke to the nurse. I'm probably OK, and I do have my annual battery of tests in a few weeks.
I went back to my computer, but I kept reading the now very mild pressure in my chest, yet I kept telling myself that the bypass is 19 years and 6 months old. My first angioplasty was 11 years ago, the second two years ago. Was it time for another tuneup that would keep this antique auto running?
The gentle pressure in my chest must be caused by my head. I took a Xanax for anxiety. The pressure seemed to grow less, but it didn't go away.
I returned to my computer and started to type: ''Once I boxed against young men, sweating, muscled, and often mean. Now I am old man and I spar with shadows."
