According to my mom, he had been experiencing chest and back pain, which he neglected to mention to anyone, throughout the day, starting at 5 a.m. The pain eventually settled in his left (?) arm, and sometime this evening, when he got around to telling her, she took him to the emergency room.
They performed a CT scan, which showed some plaque but no obvious blockages. She said they also ran some other tests, the results of which didn't indicate anything serious, save some seriously high blood pressure mom insists has to have been the result of a faulty cuff. They gave him nitroglycerin and his pain subsided but they decided kept him for observations. Mom thinks he'll likely be released tomorrow, although he'll have a stress test and (she hopes) an echo cardiogram.
I can't get him on the phone because the hospital turns them off at night.
"I really think he's alright, Siobhan. Try not to worry."
So, I'm trying not to worry.
U P D A T E
7 a.m., Friday. Phones turned back on:
Ring, ring. ...
DAD: Hi, how's it going?
ME: How are you
DAD: I'm fine. I think I'm fine. They haven't really found anything. No more pain since they gave me the nitroglycerin yesterday afternoon. ... so what's Annabel doing?
U P D A T E
10 a.m., Friday. Hospital:
Tests not as good this morning. A second doctor, the first recommended catheterization to test for blockages, was saying catherization was his recommendation as well. So at 1 p.m., dad's getting his heart muscle scoped.
*Side note: Annabel won't make papa a card while he is in the hosispill. "He's be ok, mama. He's be ok."
** Along side the side note: Left the house like an nutbag this morning. Couldn't find my wallet (thought I'd left it at a restaurant last night) and was on the verge of freaking out. I dropped Annabel off at Yaya's (she's back from the Cape) and went to the hospital. When I called Lori at noon, she told me Ittybit was playing dollhouse and when it came time to get into the car, she yelled at the mommy doll: "DON'T FORDET YOUR WALLET. DON'T FORDET THAT, OK?"
That was almost as good as last night when Annabel got home and saw the living room all stripped bare and covered in painting supplies. (We were planning on painting the floors and walls before we go to Maine).
ITTYBIT: Did you say you're sorry, Daddy? Say you're sorry.
JED: Wha ... for what?
ITTYBIT: You made a mess.
U P D A T E - NOT
3:30 p.m., sitting at my desk. Drumming my fingers. Biting my nails.
The procedure was scheduled for 1 p.m. and the phone has been chirping the "I-have-been-turned-off" ring since then. No news. ... Some folks might think no news is good news, but in my world no news is no news.
3:45 p.m. Evidently he's "having the procedure," and they've relocated him. A very nice man in the former room on the former phone told me so, and the nice lady at the information desk gave me the new number. Ring, ring. ... ring ...
U P D A T E
5:30 p.m. Car on the way to the hospital:
Ring, ring. ... ring ...
Hi. I'm fine. They put two stents in one vein. I'm very lucky.
Go to Maine.