Leaves of gas

I seem to be losing track of time lately. The hours pass by like minutes. Hey, that's from an Eagles song, I think.

Last weekend, I hemmed and hawed but finally relented and drove to Shreveport to attend my boss's wedding. The drive from New Orleans is five and half hours, so to cut the drive time, I gave my brother a ride out to the farm. Viv was already there, so I got to spend some time with her, which is really nice considering how little I've seen them since I moved out. That's the number one hardest thing to deal with lately.

Anyway, I went to Shreveport and had a great time at the wedding, despite my earlier reservations about going. The wedding and reception were held at a antique car museum. I don't know if I've mentioned just how much I love automobiles. This place was a real treat for me. I actually got to see a 1935 Auburn SCJ in person! That car is like automobile nirvana for me. Unfortunately, I don't have a picture of that one, but I do have these:

This is a 1967 Jaguar XJE. Hot car, too.



A 1932 Dusenberg, in totally mint condition. This is like a million dollar car.



That's a 1965 Mustang fastback with a 289 under the hood, completely restored. Beauty of a car with a devilishly handsome bastard leaning on it.



I really tied one on that night. I mean REALLY tied it on. I even danced Pee Wee's shoe dance to "Tequila". When we returned to the hotel, we hit the bar, which was all of forty feet from my room. A delicate wisp of a bartender served us, so I got to listen to three hours of why he was a great worker despite his having had ten jobs in three years. Flaming little guy, too. He was making eyes at one of his male customers. I discreetly hid among my drinking companions before he caught my eye.

I stumbled back to the room, promptly drunk-dialed Susan, and then passed out after raiding the mini-bar for snacks. Nothing like a three dollar Snickers at one in the morning.

When I awoke at 8:30, I was still a little drunk, but was hangover-free. After a quick breakfast, I got on the road. I felt a little tired, but no worse for the wear.

About twenty minutes outside of Shreveport, I started to feel funny, and I don't mean ha-ha. I got this odd little pain in my lower left chest and my fingers were feeling all tingly and numb. Being the hypochondriac I am, I got worried. Fifteen minutes later, the numbness and tingling had spread down my arms and I was a little lightheaded. I stopped once and called my dad to consult with him about it. I described the symptoms, but he said there was no way to tell what it was. Besides that, I was in the middle of nowhere, so if it really was something, I needed to get to civilisation for help. He thought it was just the alcohol in my system, as did Susan, and both thought I just needed to eat something to get the booze out.

I got back on the road, but was really freaked out. Ten or so miles later, the tingling was up to my shoulders, the pain was sharper, and I was really dizzy and lightheaded. This was scaring the bejeezus out of me, so I did something I didn't think I would ever do for myself; I called 911. People later told me that was a really smart thing to do, but all I wanted was someone to tell me nothing was wrong and I would be fine. I had the dispatcher have an ambulance meet me at the interstate. They showed up and pulled me into the back to check me out. The tingling and pain were lessened by this point, but I was still pretty dizzy and kind of dehydrated. They ran an EKG and hooked a heart monitor up to me. Everything looked normal. My blood sugar was better than perfect, too. Nothing was showing up.

I thanked them for helping me out, really just basically giving me a little piece of mind. By the time they took off, I felt much better. The symptoms did not reappear. My drive continued, but I was pretty much scared out of my wits. A few miles later I ate lunch, hoping some food would make me feel a little better. I stopped here:



Yes, I did buy some pies to bring home, and no, I did not eat them all by myself. Lunch gave me some strength and some downtime to chill out. I wasn't feeling that bad any more and just drove on to pick up Andy and Viv, and then get on back to New Orleans.

But since then I've had these really weird pains, little aches I've never had before. It may very well be my imagination or just a bad case of hypochondria, but dammit they hurt. I saw the doctor on Monday, who immediately started running tests on me and scheduled appointments with a cardiologist and a GI doctor. I'm 36 and seeing a cardiologist. That pretty much scares the shit out of me.

Yesterday, during my department meeting, I got this huge pain in my lower chest, running from just behind my rib cage all the way to my back. It was extremely painful and just threw me for a loop. I can't pass this off on fatigue or hangovers, either. It just plain hurt. At one point, I actually considered calling an ambulance, but the pain subsided, at least for the most part. Today? Nothing. I hate this. It's no fun at all. I know my body and I know my little aches and pains. The stuff I'm having this week is NOTHING like I've ever felt before. I'm not trying to make a mountain out of a mole hill. The pains are there.

Ah fuck it all.

I have a mostly lonely weekend on tap. Today I'm cutting the yard back at the main house and basically just cleaning the place up. I've been sleeping there since Tuesday, when Tracey took the kids to the beach with her mom and dad. I talked to her on Tuesday, but that's been it for the week. And the only reason she called was to tell me that in the morning, Grace had fallen, hit a chair and pushed her two front teeth in. There was apparently a lot of blood and Grace generally freaked out, but it wasn't bad enough to keep Grace from saying "No, I don't want a doctor, I want to go to the pool!"

Anyway. solitary weekend coming up.