It was one o'clock in the morning. I felt agitated. The teenagers next door were being loud; they weren't usually loud. I'd known them for ten years; but they seemed loud, and instead of letting it go I was seething. I lit a cigarette (I smoked in those days), and, looked out the door. "Just relax" my wife said. "Leave me alone!" I yelled. The response shocked even me, but, it just made me angrier. I sat back on the couch half muttering to myself and half muttering to my wife, but, one thing was for sure, I wasn't myself.
I sat up to go get another cigarette. Fear gripped my heart and mind with long and icey fingers. The left side of my stomach was asleep. It felt just like your hand does when you lean on it in the wrong position, but, I had never had that feeling before, and, I was afraid. "Call the doctor" I said hoarsely. Normally my wife would have chalked my request up to hypochondria, but, this time, she complied immediately. The doctor, upon hearing the symptoms, called an ambulance. They were there in minutes, and, took my blood pressure which was 180/100; not terrible but, with the symptoms, something that needed to be checked out. On the way out the door my five-year-old son asked "Dad are you gonna die?" I just shook my head.
All I remember is several doctors hovering over me. "Is there any reason you know of why your blood pressure should be 240/120?" one asked. "No". My answer was almost a sob. I knew what the implications of a blood pressure reading that high could be and there were no good options. How could this be happening; I was only 38.
Twice, medication was placed under my tongue to try and bring the pressure down and, twice it failed. The pressure was staying at that high level. Finally, I was moved to an intensive care room and ultimately six doctors were assembled by my bedside. I was given a mixture of six medications and finally my pressure reduced to 190/100. When it came down, I felt like I was swirling down within myself.
The doctors still didn't know what was wrong with me. Testing would start in the morning, and, hopefully the new-found treatment would stave off any fatal consequences until the doctors could begin to try and "add things up".
My wife and I had three boys; all were under six. She could only stay so long. Suddenly she was gone; the rest of my family was gone and, the doctors were gone. I was in the room all by myself. It was ghastly quiet.
As the medical machinery blinked about me measuring my life, I stared at the ceiling.
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