The bottom line is that after being honest with Nana Pam about some chest pains, I was cajoled into going to the emergency room, was subjected to countless prodding and probing, forced to submit to an angiogram procedure (and if you can’t appreciate just what THAT entails, google it), and ALL FOR NAUGHT. They didn’t find any heart problems that needed to be fixed.
So, in spite of my best efforts to delay the home renovation, the hospital DID NOT find any additional blockage in the coronary arteries. Thus, after a three-day “visit”, I was summarily kicked out of the hospital after being verbally abused by Mizz Burley (RN) and the entire Critical Care Unit staff for being a malingering slacker, a freeloader, and a faking scam artist accused of trying to get some hospital food and other goodies.
As far as I’m concerned, the only thing I got out of this whole deal is a couple of days off work – which I have to make up, by the way – and the realization that I still have to go the doctor to find out just why I have these chest pains – or “chest discomfort” or “angina” or “heart burn”, or whatever the heck it might be.
And to top it all off, when I got home I found a “birthday package” from the in-laws. I want to be gracious about the effort they made to send me a “gift” – after all, they do drive a hybrid car. But take a look at this thing:
Nana Pam thought it was cute and promptly named it “The Birthday Bear” (not very original, but appropriate). I initially thought it was a nice effort on the part of the in-laws to get on my good side, but soon realized that this was some devious joke designed to just piss me off. Soon, the little monster began taking over the entire house.
First, it demanded some breakfast.
Then it took over my easy chair AND the TV.
And then, as if that weren’t enough, it dipped into my wine supply and began playing show tunes on the piano – all the while incessantly singing “Happy Birthday” with those silly little hat-lights flashing on and off.
So, here I am, recuperating from a near-death experience, not able to drive or even go to Danger Lane Workshop, confined to my own house ON MY BIRTHDAY, and my only “companion” is this little alcoholic.
At least the goofy thing knows how to celebrate – I just wish he had brought his own booze.
