So there I was, sitting at work minding my own business.  I'd just ridden the Harley back from a dentist appointment, and it was kinda hot, but nothing serious.  I went into work, pulled off my riding gear, and settled in to do some computer geeking.  Love my job.

After a while, I was still sweating and breathing just a little hard, so I went out and got some water.  Figured I was a little dehydrated or maybe just a touch of heat stroke, since I haven't ridden in a while.  But the water didn't seem to help, and I leaned over and closed my eyes for a second to try to catch my breath.

Next thing I know, I hear, "Red?  Red??  RED??  RED!?!?!?"  I opened my eyes and looked around... what??  Keith had been yelling my name, and apparently I didn't answer for a while, since he kept getting louder and louder.  By the time I opened my eyes and looked around, half the room was gathered around checking me out.  I noticed a dark spot on the carpet under my chair about three inches across where the sweat from my beard had been dripping on the floor.

Roger and Keith were both telling me that I didn't look good, and I kept shucking them off, telling them I was just a little hot and I'd be fine.  They didn't give up, which probably saved my life.

After a few minutes, I decided it would be better if I sat on the floor to "catch my breath".  They still told me I was white as a sheet and covered in sweat.

After a few minutes, I decided it would be better if I were laying flat on my back.  They still told me I was white as a sheet and covered in sweat.  I was finally beginning to agree that something wasn't right, so I finally caved and told them to call an ambulance.  Started taking stuff out of my pockets... cigars, secure area badges, stuff I wouldn't need at the hospital.  Asked someone to roll the Harley into the warehouse, since it wouldn't last the night in the parking lot.

When the ambulance showed up, they asked all the usual questions, and Dr. Lloyd here told them I was suffering from dehydration or heatstroke and asked them to take me to Wilford Hall (military hospital).

EMTs checked me out for a few minutes, then said, "Uh, you're not going to Wilford... that's a half hour away, and you're having a heart attack."

Oh really now.

So they hauled me off to Northeast Baptist, just a few minutes away.  I kept asking them to knock me out, since by now I was in some SERIOUS pain... and for those who know me, you know that's saying a lot.  I am in pain 24/7 due to various and sundry problems, and I've been blessed with a *very* high pain tolerance, but heart attacks HURT.  They said no, because they needed me conscious to talk to them during the operation.

Oh really now.

I get to the ER, and they start cutting away at my clothes.  At least this time they didn't cut my boots off... So I get the usual "you're going to feel some pressure here", and in go the tubes.  Two tubes into the crease of my right leg, I guess one for the balloon to open up the artery in my heart, and one for the stent... not real sure.   Went in here.  Anyway, when they're trying to keep you from dying, they're not real gentle and don't worry a lot about blood.  No problem, my pain threshold helped again, no biggie to me, and I don't mind the fist-sized bruise I now sport on my right thigh... it'll go away eventually.

Turns out my right coronary artery was 100% blocked, and the left one is 40% blocked.  So they ballooned (ok, did angioplasty) on the right artery, then rammed a stent up there to keep things open.  Kinda like this.

They're talking to me all through this, and I'm kinda cranky (surprise!) at first, but when they got that balloon in there and inflated it, things changed... fast.  "How you feel?"  "LIKE SHIT!"  (inflate the stent a little) "How about now?"  "Hey... not as bad!"

(inflate the stent all the way) "How about now?"  "Hey, I feel great... thanks!"

Duh... your heart can breathe again, dumbass.  "Ok, good, we'll just do a little more and we'll be done."

Cool.  The "little more" was getting that stent in place, then pulling all the tubes out.  They warned me it might hurt, but it really didn't hurt at all.  Just felt like... well, excuse the terminology and the visual, but it felt just like it does if you have a really bad cold and pull a long cohesive booger out of your nose.  That's *really* the only thing I can compare it to... just a long pulling sensation, but no real pain at all.

Of course, since it was a blood clot that almost killed me, blocking the artery, they had me on blood thinners, so they had to tape a serious wad of gauze into the fold of my leg to stop the bleeding.  Also had to tape up my IVs pretty good to keep them from bleeding as well.

Once they got me all disconnected, time to go to the ward.  I offered to walk (I *really* felt that good), but they said, uh, no, you're going up on the gurney.  Ok fine.

Follow this with three days of laying on my back, bored to tears, and a week off work (enforced, I really didn't want to take it).  That's about the end of the story... except I now eat healthy.  Disgusting.  Turkey bacon, salads, diet drinks... it's horrible.  But hey, I'm alive.  And of course I'll have followups at the cardio clinic at Wilford Hall.

GREAT thanks to my wife and family, the docs and support staff at the hospital, and my coworkers, who cared enough to make damn sure I didn't just keel over and die on my desk.