A Visit to the ER

The ER at Maine Medical Center.

The worst thing about having a heart attack is constantly worrying that you're having another one every time you feel the slightest whatever. Okay, so maybe the worst thing is the actual heart attack, but surely the second worst thing is the constant worrying. Today I experienced a set of alarming physical conditions that caused me to call my doctor, and he decided they were alarming enough to send me to the ER, ASAP. I really did not want to go, but he insisted enough so that I figured he knew I was dying and just didn't want to tell me. I went.

The big hospital here in Maine is currently undergoing a huge renovation which has closed off some areas. One bit of fallout from that is the fact that the ER now shares the same space with the Acute Psychiatry Department, a.k.a. walk-in psychos. As I lay in bed awaiting my test results -- blood, chest X-ray, EKG -- I overheard a woman right outside my door, really just a curtain, saying she needed a Coca Cola and she needed it RIGHT NOW! A doctor was trying to reason with her, saying he didn't want her to drink a Coke before a blood test, but she said she needed her Coca-Cola NOW, "or else a tranquilizer." And suddenly I understood the global popularity of Coke, a beverage I have never enjoyed. Who knew?

Anyway, I'm fine and it was not another heart attack but still I need to make an appointment with my cardiologist right away, just to be safe. And next time I get freaked out I might just try a Coke and save my Lorazepam for something really big.