We were in the last leg of our most recent visit to the US. I often get confused with the English language; "last visit" does not mean I will never visit the US again. It simply means that this was the occasion when we visited in 2023. Just before moving to my elder son's house, we visited a nephew of ours in downtown Seattle. We were with our younger son and his family. From there, we decided to walk to my younger son's workplace near the bayfront. It was quite a distance for me, with the road sloping down to the bay. It was quite dark, but by using my son as a walking stick, I managed.

A couple of days later, we were at my elder son's place. A few days after that, as I was listening to YouTube channels, I felt a severe pain in my back, chest, and left arm. I felt dizzy. After several failed attempts to relax, I tried to go to the bathroom but ended up sitting down near the threshold and just collapsed, unconscious. Yet, within that unconsciousness, I realized that perhaps I was having a heart attack and tried to cough forcefully. Someone had told me at some time in the past that by coughing forcefully, you can prevent the progress of a heart attack.

When my wife spotted me, she raised a commotion, and my family decided to take me to emergency care.

That decision, in itself, could have caused another heart attack! I knew from discussions that if you go to emergency care when it is not a real emergency, the hospital might fleece you. So, with tottering legs and a shaking torso, I got admitted. The care was not exactly swift, but it was fast enough. With all sorts of tubes coiled around me and needles stuck into my arms, I lay down on the bed while all the tests were done.

What I was provided as a pillow was a bedsheet folded fourfold! After murmurs that the hospital had caused me, apart from other pains and aches, neck and shoulder pain, they finally located a pillow with great difficulty.

The next morning, a senior cardiologist visited and told me bluntly, as is the way in the US, that I had indeed had a heart attack. I knew I wasn’t the brightest, but I didn’t think I was the dumbest either. I told the doctor that I had to leave for India in one and a half months because my visa was expiring. The doctor had to double-check whether I was from a zoo or a household!

Anyway, I was taken to the procedure room for an angiogram. During the comfortable ride on a stretcher from my room to the procedure room, the people accompanying me said I would be given an injection that would make me feel happy. Happy? For invading my heart? Hmm... interesting. But lo and behold, it did make me euphoric! If I could, I might have whistled or sung some tunes. One thing I observed was that wherever I went in the hospital, the first question was about insurance, the second was about my identity, and the last was about my complaint. I was cheerful and even asked the doctor how he was doing!

After a painless insertion of the catheter, the doctor declared that I had four blockages and that I might need bypass surgery. Smiling, and with the drug working wonderfully well, I asked, "Isn't that surgery a complicated one?" There was no reply.

I told you, I always have widely wandering thoughts. Under the drug-induced cloud-nine effect, my body, mind, and soul were blissfully enjoying peaceful levitation—neither firmly on earth nor floating in the sky—when I was awakened from a partly wakeful and partly dreamy state to be told, "We have put in two stents. The other two blocks do not need stents."

Now, those unfortunate enough to read this would agree that I have clinical proof that I do have a heart!

With a monitor stuck to my chest, I was sent home. When someone tells you your heart rate and function are going to be monitored, the heart starts playing tricks.

To be continued... 4. I have a heart - Part 2