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This incident took place January 4th and seemed to bode poorly for the year. My somewhat earned military retirement check was being posted that Monday and I was feeling the effects of chocalate withdrawal about to be cured in the near future. Little did I know just how far away that Snickers bar was going to be.

Now my meds are taken twice daily. Six pills when I awake and one in the late evening when I return from acting like I care if the tow truck gets there or not labors.

Brandy, the keeper of the secrets had given me a pill box that displayed the days of the week and I was using it for the six and that procedure is going well. That pesky 11:00 pm pill kept giving the short term memory problems however.

The Long Suffering Wife had not worked Sunday so the box (computer) was being exploited by her the usual all day long with echoes of Jack Nicholson from Goin' South in the brain cells. (Will be very impressed if Daniel Benoit gets that joke or anyone else.) I was going back and forth between TV and books. I am slowly rereading Rider Haggard's Nada the Lily last read probably in my early teen years.

Here's what I believe happened. I think I took the one pill around 10 pm to get it done and over with. The key word is I think and as events proved this is what surely occured.

Around 1 am I start to visit the Mrs. in her Sanctum Sanctorum (named by me in honor of Doctor Strange to annoy the wife AND plant sublimial suggestions I need more Dr. Strange comics in my collections.) I was chattering about nothing watching her play Free Cell studiously refusing to get interested enough to learn the game myself as I need more time wasters in my life!!?? Spending time on the phone with directory assistance calling every resident in Montreal hoping a certain beloved moderator will answer takes up most of my recreation time these days. Toronto should be ahead in oh say 2014. My money is on Montreal though. I enquire of my bitter half if I had taken my pill yet not really believing she pays attention to that sort of thing but since the heart attack last February I've been oh so cleverly asking this sort of thing to gauge her concerns about the condition of my epidermis.

She doesn't know. I mentally go pffft and decide I better go do it. I approach the Library seen only by ONE Litnetter (AndaveYa--her sister stayed in the living room with her parents though I recall Andave's father glanced in somewhat amazed by the amount of books and boxes in such a small area.

The light to the room was still on.

That was the turning point. If I had listened to my little voice Monday would have been another day at work whining about people that drive cars that don't run. The light which should have been turned off since I am rather good about that sort of thing would have been the signal I had already done what I did--taken my pill--since I keep them there out the reach of the occasional visiting would-be thieving grand-child.

I take the pill and eventually get my turn at the box and go to bed probably around 4:30 am which has been the norm of late.

At about 12:30 pm Monday I'm showered, shaved for a change, and pills taken for the day and ready to hit the credit union. Ruth is on the box and not coming along for the ride. There is really just one item to attend to and that's pay the rent leaving the rest until Thursday for reasons not important for this entry.

Biology is already at work unbeknownst to me. The five pills are doing their work on blood pressure and potassium and other things. That pesky sixth pill is headed to the brain and about to do interesting things. The credit union is a mile from our house and the customer line is very l-o-n-g!!! But experience over the years informs me I'll be in line probably about 15 minutes.

Not a prophet like unto Moses this time. I'll be on the floor in 11 minutes. I was three people from getting my business done when I get symthoms I hadn't had in over 20 years back in the Air Force days. I always had troubles with locking my knees while standing at attention and freely confess having to stand down once from a formation due to dizziness. I could feel the dizziness coming over me. This is incredible to me. My first thoughts of another heart attack occur but are quickly abandoned. As badly as I muffed the original signs last years I knew this wasn't it. But my knees were fine. I lower my head a bit to get some blood to the brain. Not helping. I look around and not for the first time for the non-existant water fountain not wanting to lose my hard earned place in line.

The Drama Queen whispers in my ear. If you're worried about looking stupid that ship sailed years ago. Sit down and quit worrying about your so-called dignity. I sit down but it's not really helping. People in line start asking me questions. I lie down. My color is gone as someone observes. I fish my keys out of my pocket and wave the nitro around. A mistake in the long run but not a grievious one as it turned out. I take the nitro just in case I'm wrong about another heart attack. I'm conscious but would rather sleep if truth be known. 911 is called and the Mrs. as I provide her phone number and the paramedics arrive and do their magic. I do remember they commented on my cracking jokes. This pleased me no end as my jokes are universally terrible but at least they are recognized as attempts at humor. I'm loaded in the Fairborn ambulance and taken to the base hospital which is about two miles away. The attendent thinks I might be let off the hook on a bill as I'm a resident which is the first time ever being one has paid off then. It has begun snowing and I'm cold for a bit. I have my meds listed in my wallet which pleases the EMT people immensely and soon I'm back in the Emergency Room of the Base Hospital only this time on the other side of the room.

Of course I'm poked with needles and IVs and after awhile discussing the entire previous morning and evening one of the doctors mentions beta blockers and a light goes off. Prior to that I hadn't thought of overdosing. But that fit all the facts as Greg House would surmise and I would be another idiot patient on his roll of infamy. An Airman Stevenson does some things with the EKG while I comment on her cuteness (she is introduced to me as "in training" which I tease her about and say she'll be eventually be blogged about). She smiles, does the connections and leaves and I never see her again. I do see the civilian doctor who delights in my discomfort over needles while we discuss guttersnipes and rebellious teenagers--her's is 16 and feisty.

I'm finally dismissed after about four hours and given two sick days off which I'm delighted to take advantage of. My truck has been towed home in the meantime and I drop Ruth off who has to get to work and I go BACK to the credit union where I'm given a vague welcome as if the ladies weren't too sure I should be back on my feet so soon wich sympathy I lap up like a thirsty camel. The rent is paid, I go back home, and get some munchies from the Dairy Mart right next door to me and goof off for the rest of the night and following day.