Emergency Room

Usual Hawai'i Kai visit. Usual routine. Lunch with moms. Then, the usual workout at the gym. I felt fine afterward. Another hot afternoon made for a tortuous walk back to the Koko Marina parking structure. I thought of stopping off at the supermarket on the way back to Slob Manor (read: rental housing). Then, I thought better of the idea. Good thing.

Once back at Slob Manor, I unpacked my gym bag. Then, I put the fresh fruit that moms had given me into the fridge. Within seconds, my heart began fluttering. The palpitations would not cease. I walked back to my squalid room, then back into the common area. Alan had just walked in the door. Yes, Alan is fine. He arrived late Thursday afternoon. "I think I'm having a heart attack," I told him. Alan sat me down and attempted to track my pulse. It was all over the place. Then, he called for an ambulance.

I have no health insurance, I told him. He said that I would owe nothing if I did not accept the ride to the hospital. And, the paramedics would have the necessary medical equipment to determine the seriousness of the problem. I had thought of transporting myself to the hospital or clinic, but what if I experienced a severe cardiac event along the way? The ambulance was a safer bet.

The heart palpitations were still going strong when the ambulance arrived. I had no chest pains, no chills, no cold sweat. I wasn't dizzy. I could easily walk about. The EMTs (emergency medical technicians) strapped me onto a gurney and eased me into the back of the vehicle. They quickly hooked up a portable EKG (electrocardiogram) device to me. The EMTs were professional and friendly. They asked me a battery of questions, all the while monitoring my heart problem. The palpitations were registering a heart rate of about 150 beats per minute for a duration of over 20 minutes straight.

Oddly, after about ten minutes in the ambulance, the palpitations stopped. My heartbeats returned to normal. The EMTs advised me to ride to the emergency room. I confessed that I had no insurance. No problem, there would be a social worker available to sign me up for the State's Medicaid program.

The ride to the hospital was pleasant. The EMTs spent the time joking with me as well as discussing what would happen in the emergency room. The only downside was when one of the guys failed, not once, but twice to put an intravenous (IV) needle into my arm. The pain was horric.

Once at Queen's Hospital, everything went smoothly. The nurses, doctors, and support staff were all friendly and helpful. Quite a contrast to the solemn days of pops' passing in one of the critical care wards there. I was again hooked up to a variety of diagnostic devices. The attending nurse wanted to attempt another IV insertion. I refused, pointing to the two now swollen and bruised lumps on my arm from the two previous attempts.

The social worker, a young hottie, came by about 30 minutes later. She queried all of the information necessary to apply for health insurance. I will simply have to submit a copy of any picture identification and my birth certificate. I should have insurance coverage in 30 days after that.

Long story short, I spent nearly five hours in a private ward. There were two blood samples drawn four hour apart. The doctor assured me that I did not suffer from a heart attack. So, no heart damage. All "vitals" were normal. Strange thing. However, I was not given a clean bill of health. Instead, I was given a prescription for a beta blocker drug. And, I was advised to contact the health clinic in Waikiki for an appointment with my assigned physician. Unfortunately, I have heart problems. I will need a referal to a cardiologist. The palpitations (i.e., atrial fibrillations) will only get worse with age, I was told.

I was released from the emergency room at 9pm. I called my bro and asked him to give me a ride back to Slob Manor. He arrived about 20 minutes later. I was able to chat with my bro along the way. I advised him to be aware of any heart symptoms. I also learned that he suffers from high cholesterol, too. And, he hasn't had a physical check-up in years. I confided in him that I doubted that I would live past age 70 years, if even that.

When I arrived back at Slob Manor, both Tom and the "chef" were in the common area. I described the ordeal to them. Then, I drove my Nissan® Frontier truck to the fast food joint in Aina Haina. I don't know if anyone noticed that I was still wearing my hospital ID bracelet and both my arms were covered with assorted bandages. I ordered two greasy "value menu" items and a vanilla milk shake. Delicious! What the heck? Well, I may only have a few years left to live.

Surveillance Mini-Update®
Here I am, describing my near-death experience, but I cannot get a reprieve from the Google® surveillance robot. Is there no decency in the oligopolistic empire? Apparently not. I am an old codger, ready to die. Give me a break already!