I had an eventful Monday evening / Tuesday morning and I'm still not over it. We had our companies annual yearly gathering and after a day of learning things we went out and had some fun. I got home a little later than usual and wanted to catch as much of the remaining Bears game as possible so after I parked I headed for the stairs. I was reading something and taking them two at a time which is an idiotic combination I paid for. Someone had spilled what seemed and smelled like Laundry detergent on one of the treads and I hit the spot like a cartoon banana peel.
I caught myself on the railing but by that time it was too late. I still impacted the stairs because I'm me and gravity is an asshole. Didn't quite knock the wind out - but it was the hardest shot I'd taken in quite a while. Once I got up, collected my things, and made it to the apartment I didn't think much more about it. I was a little sore but that could also have been attributed to acute Bears anxiety. So I went to bed thinking nothing of it.
I awoke a little after midnight in a ball of sweat with chest pain. I just had a friend survive a Widow Maker so that was the first thing to pop into my brain. I tried to calm myself down but I couldn't stop wondering if my grabber would just be named a Vacant Apartment Maker.. Which lead me to the decision to drive myself to the closest hospital. Some of you might be thinking that I should have just called 911 but there are three hospitals within spitting distance and I wanted to pick which one I went to. Plus, my broken brain needed to do a few things before I left and those pesky paramedics just want to rush you to treatment.
A real concern for me at almost 1:00am was doing some light straightening just in case someone had to come to my apartment to get something. I washed the dish and fork, rinsed out the glass used to take a death delaying aspirin, and dressed in a loose fitting set of hospital friendly clothes. I then proceeded to make my bed. Yikes, that sentence was tough to write. I even made myself laugh at the thought of someone finding me cold with a perfectly clean house. I am a self diagnosed (and most likely by anyone who reads this) mental patient. I laughed even more at the thought of scratching someone's name in the wall to confuse the coroner.
Anywho, I drove over to the hospital battling thoughts of irony the entire time. What if I die here? What if this is hypochondria? Oh this would be ridiculous spot to croak. I might make the news for kicking it in the parking garage. I am an idiot for driving... etc. Not until I got checked in and rushed back for the grabber tests did I feel like I made the right decision.
This is a true city hospital complete with metal detectors and armed police and security. The slice of humanity it this place is stunning but I didn't get a great look around until later. First we had to make sure my asshole heart wasn't attacking me. I would bore you with the medical nonsense but it was three hours of machines, tests, and scans. By the end everyone was satisfied that I wasn't heading into the light, or dark, depending on your beliefs and my own personal behavior.
Next up was blood clots. We did some sleuthing and discovered that none of those sneaky bastards were around waiting their turn so it was on to the ever present COVID. It turns out that chest pain with no other symptoms some kind of indicator. Who knew? Got my brain tickled by two different sticks for a fast and slow test and it was time to wait. I got sent back out into gen-pop because there was a lot happening in the city last night so private rooms were at a premium. Out in the Emergency waiting area I had to establish which gang I wanted to join so I sat next to a lovely elderly couple with audible breathing problems and a mother daughter pair who just wanted to get the Childs cast looked at. Since no one else was aware I went ahead and named us the Noncombatants.
The actual Combatants were the next team on the yard but they weren't grouped together. I think their subgroups might have trouble getting along with anyone other than their own but they are together due to their constant monitoring of each other and the special attention paid them by law enforcement. And finally we had the Altered. These citizens were all just a little off. Most battling some form of addiction but some just by faulty wiring. By far the most active and vocal group these would have been the court jesters of old. I could have watched them for hours and in fact did. My favorite was a magician of sorts who could hide and make appear a cigarette and or lighter at will. So impressive was his act that he was escorted from the facility on his third I'm trying to light this and smoke in here encore.
I would have clapped but our gang had a strict under the radar vibe going and I didn't want to break ranks. If you are one of my children reading this please don't be upset. If at any time things would have turned dark and assuming I would have been allowed phone access I would have let you know what was happening. I did also start writing some very touching if I do say so myself notes PLUS: I made my bed!