We got home from the main hospital 100 miles away early this afternoon. He is fine now, just pretty tired. But we're still getting reoriented to "normal" life and being home.
About 3 a.m. Saturday morning he woke up with chest pains he at first thought was heartburn, so he took antacids. That didn't work and the pain was getting worse, so he took four aspirin. By 4 a.m. he woke me up and I went into shock but also went on autopilot. I called 911 because I was afraid of moving him around. Ambulance came, they did some immediate care and took him to our local hospital a few blocks away. There they saw something major was going on and they immediately called for the helicoptor to come get him from the main hospital. There, about 1/2 hour later, they took him right to the cath lab, did the catheter thing, found two "sizeable" blockages in his heart and put in two stents in those spots. Luckily, they were able to get the catheter in through his wrist, rather than his groin.
That morning I spent at home lining up a friend to drive me there (because I can't handle driving out of town), putting extra water and food out for the cats, got another friend to take care of our cats (and same friend offered to pick us up when he was released), got my cell phone activated and bought minutes, got packed (this last of which was easier said than done; I almost walked out of the house without his shoes). Before I left, the procedure was completed and one of the doctors who did it called me to tell me what they found, what they did, and that he was doing fine (enormous sigh of relief). A little while later his nurse called to update me and tell me what room he was going to be in.
I am amazed at what they can do for heart attacks these days. I knew about this intellectually, but never went through it in such a personal way. Weirdly, I don't know if it was because I was in shock or because of some instinct that I somehow knew he was going to be okay, but I was not really scared like he was. I was freaked badly, yes, but in my gut not really worried if he was going to make it. I somehow knew he would. But then he was going through excruciating pain until they did the procedure, so it was totally understandable that he thought he was going to die that morning.
By Sunday, yesterday, the day after his heart attack, he was getting dressed and antsy to get home. No more pain, absolutely fine, all tests good, except for being tired. Truly amazing!!
When we got home I was on autopilot again, or still . . . ran out, got all his prescriptions, got a bunch of food like salt substitute, turkey bacon, egg beaters, etc. Oh, and some nice wine, since I know that's good for the heart. We just had dinner and I am now trying to normalize somehow.
I have never had such a rude awakening since my ex-boyfriend broke into my bedroom window with a knife.
About 3 a.m. Saturday morning he woke up with chest pains he at first thought was heartburn, so he took antacids. That didn't work and the pain was getting worse, so he took four aspirin. By 4 a.m. he woke me up and I went into shock but also went on autopilot. I called 911 because I was afraid of moving him around. Ambulance came, they did some immediate care and took him to our local hospital a few blocks away. There they saw something major was going on and they immediately called for the helicoptor to come get him from the main hospital. There, about 1/2 hour later, they took him right to the cath lab, did the catheter thing, found two "sizeable" blockages in his heart and put in two stents in those spots. Luckily, they were able to get the catheter in through his wrist, rather than his groin.
That morning I spent at home lining up a friend to drive me there (because I can't handle driving out of town), putting extra water and food out for the cats, got another friend to take care of our cats (and same friend offered to pick us up when he was released), got my cell phone activated and bought minutes, got packed (this last of which was easier said than done; I almost walked out of the house without his shoes). Before I left, the procedure was completed and one of the doctors who did it called me to tell me what they found, what they did, and that he was doing fine (enormous sigh of relief). A little while later his nurse called to update me and tell me what room he was going to be in.
I am amazed at what they can do for heart attacks these days. I knew about this intellectually, but never went through it in such a personal way. Weirdly, I don't know if it was because I was in shock or because of some instinct that I somehow knew he was going to be okay, but I was not really scared like he was. I was freaked badly, yes, but in my gut not really worried if he was going to make it. I somehow knew he would. But then he was going through excruciating pain until they did the procedure, so it was totally understandable that he thought he was going to die that morning.
By Sunday, yesterday, the day after his heart attack, he was getting dressed and antsy to get home. No more pain, absolutely fine, all tests good, except for being tired. Truly amazing!!
When we got home I was on autopilot again, or still . . . ran out, got all his prescriptions, got a bunch of food like salt substitute, turkey bacon, egg beaters, etc. Oh, and some nice wine, since I know that's good for the heart. We just had dinner and I am now trying to normalize somehow.
I have never had such a rude awakening since my ex-boyfriend broke into my bedroom window with a knife.
