Yesterday I went to the lab, which is in a nearby Hispital to do my monthly blood work up. Yesterday was six vials. I should start selling the stuff. It’s embarrassing that I know everyone in the lab on a first name basis.
Anyhow, as I was walking through the hospital I saw some signs for a support group called The Mended Heart. I was not sure if it was a support group for heart patients or for grief counseling.
I followed the signs and came to a nurses station and asked the nurse if she had any information on the support group. She didn’t and told me to go down the hall to the conference room A, and I could talk to someone.
As I walked down the passage, I passed patient rooms on either side of me, with the doors open and patients in unconscious states with tubes coming out of every orifice and machines beeping all around. It was either the recovery ward or the ICU.
Either way, for some unknown and totally unexpected reason, I freaked. I totally freaked. My heart started racing, my hands began to sweat and I could not breathe. I had to get out of there fast. I think I had a panic attack. My first. And it was scary.
Nothing freaks me out. I faced three heart operations and an open lung biopsy without fear. I was up when they implanted my defibrillator, and for one right heart catherization. But seeing these patients, room after room in a catatonic state just did me in.
I think that happened because I was not prepared for it, but in any case, I don’t think I will be returning to the third floor of the hospital any time soon.