Heavy Heart

i think the worst is over. hopefuly it is. i had a heart attack 7 days ago on december 21st. i know, i can't believe it either. a week ago tonite i, a previously-in-good-health 26 year-old male suffered a myocardial infarction. i spent 3 lovely days in some dump hospital worthy of a third world country and returned home the day before christmas, only to go to a different hospital two days later....this time for periocarditis.

i'm now a walking pill box, but don't confuse this statement with a complaint. i'm happy and lucky to be alive. it was a pretty harrowing ordeal that has changed my life (read: diet, exercise, alcohol, tobacco, etc). ordinarily, i'd be loathe to give a blow-by-blow description of what happened, but given the circumstances, i think everyone would be better off hearing what exactly happened so they can look for signs of similar goings on in their lives. so.........

for a few days leading up to the heart attack (hereafter referred to as the "attack" or "event") i had been experiencing some tension just below my collar bone and some tightness in the windpipe. i thought maybe it was either a cold coming on or just some mild inflammation of my ribcage, which i'd had before. i started popping ibuprofen left and right and using a heating pad, which made it feel a little better.

through the weekend and into the beginning of the week, the pain got worse and worse. tuesday rolled around at work and i was in some serious pain at this point. i lost my breath by standing and the pain in my chest was damn near unbearable at times. i went home sick after visiting my GP (general practitioner for you healthy people that don't go to doctors) earlier in the afternoon. he checked me out, gave me an ekg, and surmised that the lining between my lungs and chest cavity had flared up for any number of reasons. solution: take 2000 mg of ibuprofen and call him 3 days if not better.

by that night, the pain grew greater, becoming a complete constriction of every muscle in my chest (think of how you feel when you pull a muscle. now multiply by every muscle in your body. yeah, it hurt that badly). my roommate took me to the ER where, after some testing, determined i was suffering an anxiety or stress attack--because there's no way a 26 year-old could possibly be having a heart attack.

i ate the anxiety pills given to me by the ER staff like candy, but with no results. figuring they'd take some time to work, i skipped work on wednesday to relax (since i got home from the ER at 4am). by wednesday night, there was no relief and i was getting worse. i became delirious, completely unaware of my surroundings. i vaguely remember laying on the couch and seeing double, but have no recollection of what i was seeing, who was there, or any conversations i may have been having. my ex was visiting (i think?) and took me back to the ER, whose staff FINALLY put the simple math together..... i was in fact having a heart attack.

i woke up in the hospital the next day with tubes and lines coming out of my arms, hooked up to every machine imagineable. oh, there was also a little matter of a significant pain in my groin (yes, the groin. not to be confused with the member). to circumvent the clogged artery, the cardiac surgeon inserted what's called a stent, which is a mesh titanium tube, in the artery.....through. my. fucking. groin.

after a couple of days recuperating, i was discharged and sent home, only to return to the hospital because of an inability to control my body temperature (severe night sweats, chills, etc.), which i found out to be caused by periocarditis, and inflammation of fluid around the heart.

so, i'm home now relaxing. i'm forbidden to drive, work, eat good food, or do, well, anything. my focus during this time is, naturally, to get better but also to re-learn how to eat properly. i'll be ok when all is said and done. i'm lucky.

it's cliche for someone suffering an affliction to become a champion of the cause when he or she recovers. cliches are "cliche" because they are true. so, as i continue to recover, i urge anyone reading this to visit their doctor in the near future and get checked out. if you smoke, stop. if you drink a lot, stop that too. and if you're a good, ole-fashioned pig that eats everything in sight with little apprehension, perhaps my ordeal will give you a little pause.

thanks to everyone for their prayers and support. it's really been helpful in getting through all this. to all good health, and to all a happy heart.

learn more here: http://www.americanheart.org

Daily Link

from MSN ('cause they always have the funnies): Bush: Leaking 'shameful'

scientific advancements have created drugs for this problem, while CPG specialists have developed what they call "wings" for a certain other leaking problem. look into it.

Who Dey?!?!?!

life as a bengals fan hasn't been very easy, to say the least, for most of my existence. in fact, i believe their last good season pre-dates nirvana, pearl jam, and the rest of the grunge movement. come to think of it, milli vanilli was still big the last time the bengals sniffed success.

fast forward to 2005. on the verge of their first playoff appearance in an epoch (i'm not exactly sure how long an epoch is, but i know it's really, really, really long), the bengals have come roaring out of the gates this year with a new attitude and a renewed sense of "who dey?!?!?" They got a new stadium a few years back, followed by a new coach, and finally, followed this year by some actual football players.

for those of you not jive enough to understand late '80s cincinnati slang, "who dey?!?!" was the bengals' answer to the '85 bears "super bowl shuffle." it was a really lame rap/song/slogan/garbage led by one ickey woods that basically went thusly: "who dey, who dey, who dey think gone beat dem bengals? where do they play? in tha jungle. afrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaid of nooooooooooooooobody!" yeah, pretty pathetic, but still catchy enough to spawn soft drink, candy bar, and clothing labels back in the day.

for the last 15 years, the franchise has been hard pressed to get asses in the seats (who could blame them) or real talent on the field (who could blame them?). these two items shouldn't be mutually exclusive. the ownership had been cheap and lacking in any real football operational knowledge. they kind of resembled then what the detroit lions look like now: a few good players from time to time, and several horrible signings/draft picks by a front office that makes decisions based on instant messenger conversations they have had with underaged girls, such as.....

"go get joey harrington, he's sooooo dreamy".

[an aside: the bengals' brass in the late '80s most likely didn't have instant messenger, since the advent of the internet was still a few years off. however, they're decisions were presumably made by the "IM" of the time, the magic 8 ball]

but this year is different. the club has a solid quarterback, a trash-talking (albiet abso-fucking-lutely hilarious) wide receiver, and several "role" guys that know what it takes to win. this year, they go into each game not hoping to not get blown out, but to win....a novel concept.

i am once again proud to be a bengals' fan. no longer do i have to pretend to watch other games at the bar while secretly rooting for the black and orange stripes. i proclaim loudly to anyone who'll listen where i come from and which is my team. after 15 loonnng, painful years, "WHO DEY?!?!?!?" think i'm gonna root for?

Torture

link of the day: from MSN-Bush, McCain reach torture deal.

that's the spirit, guys. you torture my back, i'll torture yours. classic.

So long, Tookie

tookie williams was executed last night, er, early this morning. whatever. i've composed an ode to an icon, a legend if you will, below.

so long tookie, old friend. your body may be gone, but your spirit and legacy live on in all of us. you did it the right way. you showed us the way, what it means to live a life that is true, meaningful, and good. you showed those innocent convenience store owners just how guilty they were for being in that store just at the same time you went to rob it. fucking tards. they should have known better. but you, my friend, taught them a lesson they'd not soon forget. you taught us all a lesson we'll never forget.

you were a visionary. creating a group of young men and women in LA so influential that no one could escape the fashion trends, the vigilantism and self rule of the streets you so proudly preached. in fact, i'll go as far to say that you are los angeles. you are everything right about that fair city. you taught us all how to survive, how to get what we need and want through honorable means.

you were, and still are, an inspiration. manson, gacy and the others couldn't hold a candle to you, to your prowess. the bloods aspired to be all that you and the crips were. imitation is the ultimate compliment, and many compliments have been paid your way. even today, on the day of your unjust passing, supporters such as actors and activists stood outside san quentin praying, marching, and hoping to persuade the terminator not to carry out his modus operandi. most who attended the vigil believe you've transformed yourself, bettered yourself through your writings, and repented. i ask how such a great man could possibly better himself, lest he be deified.

today, on the day following your passing, i mourn. i regret the loss our society has been dealt. i fear that the path of righteousness lit by your beacon has since become darkened. there will be an eternal hole in my soul, knowing that my guide, my inspiration, and my idol has been wronged. so, as a matter of closure, i'll end. goodbye my friend. you will not be forgotten and i will carry with me for the rest of my days the wisdom you've imparted upon me: do what's necessary, take what you want, destroy the meek, and long live the crips. amen.

Eye twitch

a simple post for a simple friday at work. my eye won't stop fucking twitching and it's driving me nuts. i've perused the internet for some information on the cause and, as expected, i've found conflicting information. some sites, and my colleagues as well, suggest it's due to an overabundance of stress. work has been hell lately. what, with my boss leaving and thrice the normal project load falling on my shoulders. nevertheless, stress could be it.

it could also be lack of sleep, as suggested by other sites. the latter seems equally plausible, seeing as how i average only 6 hours of sleep per night. however, i've not been one to get more than 6 hours of sleep since joining the chain gang, er, work force.

so, what's the answer. easy: who fucking cares. just make my eye stop twitching, damnit! it's going to result in my death by car accident or a coworker's death by a pen-stabbing.