Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Day 1.20 in Dog Years

Ya know when they say 'sick as a dog'?

That is my sorry arse today. Virus on top of the whole cardio enchilada. Bad mix.

Last night was the worst. Couldn't decide whether to go to ER, call the cardiology department, or self medicate. 

Chose the latter, with water, electrolytes, protein supplements and a pair of Advils along with the frustrating search for a comfortable horizontal sleeping posture. Nice try fido.

I think I was able to doze into a light sleep only to have it turn nightmarish with astonishing speed. For the sake of exposition, here is the outline: I am having a cardiac episode, myocardial infarction of catastrophic proportion. I realize in my dream (I think it was a dream) that I have been trained to respond by a series of precise movements, starting with holding my breath while laying on my  right side. As I exhale I roll over to the left and go into full relaxation mode. It is here that I realize that I have skipped a step in the sequence and unless I repeat perfectly and sequentially, from the top, with the clock running - almost out of time - it is officially the end of game. This futile exercise goes on until I force quit and check pulse, which of course I cannot find. I lay there wondering about the nature of time as my chest heaves and heart pounds.

So today I am in the dog house with a dry nose and runny eyes wondering how many dog years are left.

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