Thursday of this past week I started having chest pains. Ironically, this was a year and one week from when I wound up in the hospital last year with a blockage to my heart and had a stent placed. I'm thinking, "no way could this be happening." I really did not think it was my heart at first, and told Daniel that I did not think it was, but to kind of watch over me. Granted, I'd been under a ton of stress lately, so, yeah... it could have been my heart, but I just did not think so. The pains came and went all afternoon, into the evening, and at times I was having trouble breathing from the pain. So, finally I told Libby it was time to take me in to be checked out. Of course, this just added more stress as I'm thinking of the new medical bills to be piled on the ones we are still paying. Things looked pretty good in the ER, but of course they wanted to admit me for observation and to run some tests the next day.
Of course, I got almost no sleep that night. The bed was worse than laying on the ground. I mean it was horrible. My back, hips and legs were just aching by morning. Then, the noise in the place was like being in an airport. People everywhere, nurses and techs in and out all night. About the time I dozed off, they came in to take blood. You know the drill. My family doctor came in early in the morning and told me that things really looked good, but they wanted to run more tests. He asked me if it was possible I'd had some sort of injury to my chest. I told him nothing I could think of. So, we ran several more tests, and they all checked out very well. In fact, they told me that my heart was very strong, stronger than most people's. My risk/problem is not the heart, it is blockages... which stress is a leading cause of. Nice. After the results of that test, and nothing showing any problems, I began thinking more and it hit me. A week or so before, my lawn tractor was stuck in gear and I had to move it, so I picked it up from one end and drug it. I knew afterward it was a dumb thing to do. The problem is, your body does not ask your mind for permission... or the other way around. I just grabbed it and did it, without stopping to think that I'm 53 years old, not 33. I was sore for days. But I was healing up fine. What happened though was that on Wednesday of this past week, the garbage men were going to be doing their spring big pick up day, and I carried out 4 chairs, one of them a huge recliner. Apparently I tore the muscles in between the rib cage, thus the chest pain and difficulty breathing. Don't get me wrong... I'm sure glad it was not my heart... but how stupid can a guy get?
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