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Over a period of time if God grants any semblance of a long life in the United States you end up filling in medical questionaires and answering barely remembered familiy history. One question that never seems to be asked is "Well you MUST have been a beautiful baby?!!" Sigh.

There were many reasons Thursday became a special day. Mostly for having a Senior Master Sergeant give me a free ride in an ambulance with sirens going to the Dayton Heart Hospital. Another special experience was my taste buds have been proven to be destroyed or else senility is starting early because I loved my first meal at the hospital.

Starting from the beginning the disaster in the preparing really began about mid-December when I ran out of my medications. Meds cost about $100 a month. I had some extra I used up first--big mistake there. That caused my bottles to read expired and an e-mail sent by the Krogers pharmacy to my doctor went unanswered. People that know me at all can imagine what I did next.

I hrumphed, mumbled to the long suffering wife about bills, new used cars and thin-stretched bones and decided next payday I'ld catch up.

And the next. Darn heat bill.

After that--Grand-son, birthday.

This one for sure--oops---running out of gas or can't have a job much longer after that.

The list goes on. (Don't bring up the comics-low blow.)

I do notice that my body has definitely lost all the beneficial effects of controlled blood pressure and I start to get a little frantic. I go right to Genesis 3 for Marriage Counseling 101 Bible style where we see Adam blaming the Mrs. for his troubles which introduces God as a Tough Love advocate (if I may gently jest). This results in better news. Ruth made three of 72 car payments and muffed number 4 for 2/3rds of it so I had to play Mighty Mouse without the charm. Which makes another lost attempt at getting the meds.

This became the final last delay in getting my medicine. I believe this was blogged in greater more accurate detail last go around.

Now we are on Monday when the first signs of trouble in my future truly begin. On a different website chatroom I met a young medical student (starting March 9th) back in December. This is that site I once spoke of where you have to walk carefully and pay attention to a lot of posturing. She and I hit it right off and other then a stumble or two at language barriers (she's Russian that bothers me not in the least despite what Uncle Sam may think) have had some pleasant times. Sunday night I had made some comments I thought she was tracking on the site. This would be similar to giving Sweets America unwanted personal advice in the name of actually trying to help. The replies were encouraging and I felt a night well spent and was geting my Old Man of Wisdom act down pat again.

Nope--if I had kept my mouth shut.

I went fishing for compliments on Monday to reenforce my sense of importance in the DearAbby sweetstakes only to discover my comments had NOT been read at all. She had read someone elses and now thought I was a big Know-It-All who couldn't possibly have a clue (at my demented age.) Strike two--I decide Spinks and Anza don't need my help though Becca might be amused as my ego shrivels up into a limp of twine and I sulk until Wednesday when we finally patch things up. She decides my respect and friendship for her might be stronger then one night of unsolicited advice and I promise to ask first in future about crossing boudary lines.

A consequence of all this was that I went right to my dark mood starting with the usual grump to God about letting me live to see days like this. Job really does have some great lines in his book. I brood about the depths and realities of friendships in general until I read a Litnetter's remarks on seeing his mother on Facebook. I laugh to Ruth about this and she mentions all her friends and the kids having their little network of comrades.

Already having my unique character stomped into the ground and being somewhat of an against the grain kind of fellow I look up my friends at Litnet and instead of appreciating the blessing and kindness (and in some cases love) amongst us I see bragging rights and willo-the-wisps and look at me look at me and truth be told erase them all in a scene out of an old movie filled with angst and drama.

One critique of the Friends Litnet service I do believe does needs addressing. Due to the public nature of the entries as sweet as they are to receive and read I find it MUCH more meaningful to get the private messages as I have come to know certain of you in a very meaningful way.

Starting about Monday my left arm starts aching. I abscribe this to overuse of the muscles which should have my first clue I was out of my mind. Muscles indeed.

Co-worker Tonya and I have a silly argument over cleaning the coffee pot Monday which results in me leaving early on sick time. I had been on edge all night--the arm was still hurting and my attitude was worse then usual and I was afraid at snapping at anyone. And was up to here with Tonya winning the arguments all the time. Tuesday and Wednesday I remain very quiet at work to where it is noticeable and Wednesday the left arm is very much in pain but I begin to abscribe carpel tunnel, and old age to it.

Thursday--the heart attack occurs--and yes Virgil--it really WAS the real thing.

Next: Walking toward the Light or Mood Swinger's Delight