The monkey that protected him

About 11:00 a.m. yesterday, Brian calls. "I made an appointment with the doctor." OK. "I'm having some tightness in my chest." Hmmm. "It's for Monday." OK, can't be that urgent. A little more conversation, then talk to you later, honey.

About 11:45 a.m. yesterday, Brian calls again. "The doctor's office called back, they say I should go to the ER." Not so good. But we're talking about which hospital he wants to go to, he's not getting med-evac'd out of his office, so serious but not urgent. Based on personal experience, I want him to stay away from Barnes (given that he didn't get a bullet to the head, we'd be triaged until next Tuesday) and St. Mary's (I have just not been happy there, on the one occasion I had to go (broken foot, although the surgery dept and the surgeon were great) plus because of other family and friends and their experiences).

I'm recommending St. Joe's in Kirkwood (absolutely awesome experience, the one time I went there (concussion) and plus the minister, Fr. Jim Krings, used to be pastor at our church, and he is truly an enlightened soul) or St. John's. Brian definitely wants to avoid Barnes as well (triage concerns) but doesn't think it's safe to drive as far as St. Joe's or St. John's.

St. Mary's, it is, and I'll meet you there.

My friends from work that I was going to lunch with need to get out of my car (one of them, B., gave the opening prayer at the church wedding), but fortunately, we've just pulled up at St. Raymond's, and the other car with other co-workers will fit them so I'm not leaving them stranded.

By the time I get to St. Mary's and catch up with Brian in the ER, they've completed the EKG (they don't dawdle on heart stuff, we found, at least not initially). Long story short, seven or so hours later, we came home - after clarifying to the doctor that no, Brian had never donated a kidney, and had not presented with a fever, severe cough, and urinating problems. And no, thank you, we did not need blood tests done to test his renal function. The guy next door apparently had donated a kidney, and did have a fever, severe cough, and urinating problems, sounds like something might be going on with that guy, you may want to check on him. In the meantime, how's Brian's heart - not his remaining kidney - functioning? All the tests are coming back negative on a cardiac event? Good to know, thank you very much, can we leave now and never come back?

But I'm getting ahead of myself - I asked Brian if he wanted to call his mom, 'cause didn't he think she would want to know he was in the hospital, 'cause I know I would want to at least know? I mean, if they had been doing CPR, of COURSE I would have called, immediately, but still, she would probably want to know. Yes, he thinks so, too, we should call her. OK, not a fun phone call. "Hi, J., how are you? Good? Oh, that's nice. Us? Weeeell, we're in the hospital, things seem calm right now, but they're running some tests on Brian. Should you come? Hm. I'm sooo not making that decision. "

Brian's mom and two sisters came, as soon as they could. Sooo nice to have the support from them. Brian was stressed (obviously), so I couldn't be the one to wig out, and God knows, 116 days into the marriage, I didn't want to have to make any decisions alone, and my side is out of the country, or in Chicago, at work, have their own health issues, etc., etc., etc.

One of his sisters handed him a red monkey, the barrel full o' monkeys kind. We fiddled around with it, joked about it, kept our hands busy with it, whatever. Then, when she had to leave, Brian tries to give it back to her, you know, just, "don't forget your monkey" or whatever. No, she says to him, you can't give it back, because it's protecting you. You have to keep it.

So we kept it. And it protected him. Still need some tests to find out what happened, but we got home safe and sound, after just several hours as opposed to something else. Having lived through various "something elses" of my own and with friends and family, let me tell you, I was pretty happy to be home again. The stress of the day caught up, we cried, I puked, but we're OK.

To be fair, I didn't call my side 'til it was over, but would have if, say, the situation had become critical and urgent. And I know they would have been there for us, too. As an aside, my parents had an early scare, as well; having traveled to Europe on a ship, back in the day when planes weren't as widespread yet, the ship (if I recall correctly) had to alter its course and lay anchor in Spain, so that my dad could get med-evac'd off the ocean liner/ship/whatever (I don't know my water vessel terminology). Something about a diabetic coma, again, if memory serves, that he was not expected to survive, although he did, obviously, or I wouldn't be making this blog entry right now. I'll have to ask her if I can ever get through on the blinkin' phone lines. Not like she's on a small island off of New Guinea or anything but, geez, I can't get through.

In any case, for us, yesterday, it was the monkey that did it, so thank you for the monkey, No. 5. And thank you for being with us, Nos. 1, 2, and 4.