Swim Rant

An extended rant: One April Sunday morning I woke with a slight pain on the left side of my chest. I went to the pool, and every time I exerted my self, the pain grew. It subsided when I rested but never went away. I'm 47. I cut my workout short, went home and talked it over with my wife. We agreed I should go to the hospital, just in case. I must say when you walk into a hospital and point at your chest, they take care of you quick. I got the express line into the hospital, where they toke my vitals to learn that I'm really in pretty good shape. My pulse was 56, my BP was spot on. But since my dad had a heart attack 25 years ago, I went in for observation. I was wired up and on oxygen, and when I did the biofeedback thing I got my pulse down to 47. I was there for six hours in all, feeling like a doof the whole time. Around hour three the doctor came in, asked me the basic questions, and looked at me very closely. She stuck out one finger, said, "Does it hurt when I press right - here?" - and jabbed firmly just above my heart. My answer was in between a wimper and a wince. I had a deep bruise in my chest, and then I remembered . . . My pool is not terribly crowded, so we split lanes when two people are in a lane, and circle with three or more. The day before I had been circling with two others and set off for a 50 free AFAP. That was the moment that person three in my lane got out and the other bloke decided to split the lane while I was still circling. We ended up on collision course. He popped me - hard - right in the spot where the doctor was pressing hard 24 hours later. So that was all in April. Why rant now? Well, the medical bills are starting to roll in . . . .

An extended rant: One April Sunday morning I woke with a slight pain on the left side of my chest. I went to the pool, and every time I exerted my self, the pain grew. It subsided when I rested but never went away. I'm 47. I cut my workout short, went home and talked it over with my wife. We agreed I should go to the hospital, just in case. I must say when you walk into a hospital and point at your chest, they take care of you quick. I got the express line into the hospital, where they toke my vitals to learn that I'm really in pretty good shape. My pulse was 56, my BP was spot on. But since my dad had a heart attack 25 years ago, I went in for observation. I was wired up and on oxygen, and when I did the biofeedback thing I got my pulse down to 47. I was there for six hours in all, feeling like a doof the whole time. Around hour three the doctor came in, asked me the basic questions, and looked at me very closely. She stuck out one finger, said, "Does it hurt when I press right - here?" - and jabbed firmly just above my heart. My answer was in between a wimper and a wince. I had a deep bruise in my chest, and then I remembered . . . My pool is not terribly crowded, so we split lanes when two people are in a lane, and circle with three or more. The day before I had been circling with two others and set off for a 50 free AFAP. That was the moment that person three in my lane got out and the other bloke decided to split the lane while I was still circling. We ended up on collision course. He popped me - hard - right in the spot where the doctor was pressing hard 24 hours later. So that was all in April. Why rant now? Well, the medical bills are starting to roll in . . . .