Yesterday we went to the pool, which my wife has a prescription for (swimming, that is), and it turned out to be closed for mechanical reasons. We all walked away disappointed, particularly the kids, and I thought that was kind of a bummer.
Hah!
At 2:30 AM my wife smacks my leg sort of gently: "Sweetheart," she says, "this one's worse than before, and I'm too dizzy to move."
She's massaging her heart, and my brain is working on a half-piston. But it fires enough to say, "what? What do you need?"
"Call the doctor, 911."
Suddenly the war room in my brain has all those red lights flashing, but the staff is all on lunch break. Frick. Frick-a-frick.
Somehow I manage getting the phone into my hand and dialing, I've also managed to refill my wife's water (?) and grab the phone number of a friend to watch our kids (she told me to do that, but I don't remember it happening).
"911 dispatch..." yada, yada. No, no, name-the-medication game, heart problem. Still awake, talking, yeah.
About 5 minutes later an ambulance is in our drive way, friends are on the way to watch the kids, and I'm wondering if anyone needs me for anything. I'm offering to get the paramedics coffee or something... from Brazil. "Is that wall in your way? Need me to move it for you?"
They stop her heart for the second time in her life. I can hear the monitor, but I can't see past the technicians to my wife.
Then her heart starts again. It's a little slow initially, but it builds up.
The friends leave their daughter at my house while I collect gear for what could be an all day event and head out. The kids are still asleep.
I get to the hospital and my wife has just gotten there ahead of me, they've got her in a bed and nothing major is happening. The doctor has a pretty good sense of humor and let's us know that there's no reason in particular for this to have happened, save that my wife double-dosed on the BCPs (birth control pills) and the estrogen spike might have done it. Since the last time happened during a pregnancy that sounds reasonable.
We get home around 4:46am, and a teen girl is curled up on our couch, sleeping on the phone.
The kids are still asleep, and don't know anything yet of what happened.
3 Kommentare:
Diagnosis was Super Ventricular Tachycardia.
Paroxysmal Supraventricular Tachycardia. I blame the stress.
And I swear I never did anything bad enough to deserve this kind of karma payback. Honest!
Ouch! Mr. Slappy here and I voted for opposing candidates, whoever they may have been, so I figure that cancels out the karma both ways.
Well, it gave me a good research opportunity into what a typical paramedic swarm does...
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