The Scariest Halloween Of My Life
And I don't mean scary in the spooktacular way. But more in the "am I dying?" way.
On Halloween of last year, I went into urgent care because I was having trouble breathing. I’d been in two weeks prior for the same thing. After spending the weekend with some cats (the furry kind, I’m not trying to talk like a ‘50s jazzman), I was under the impression that my allergy had gotten much worse and it made my long-dormant asthma act up. The doctor agreed, gave me an inhaler and some steroids then sent me on my way. It worked at first, my breathing was normal, but as time went on the returns were diminishing. I was a little freaked out by that, so I went back.
They took my blood pressure, just like they had before, but this time the doctor freaked out and told me I needed to go to the ER immediately. Since I had been recently laid off from my job and was still trying to understand the ins and outs of my wife’s insurance plan (which I had been on for under a month), I didn’t want to immediately go to the ER. It was going to cost a fortune. A fortune I didn’t have since I’d been given a whopping five days' worth of severance. One of the joys of living in a country that refuses to join the rest of the world and have a form of socialized health care is doing this kind of math whenever you feel bad. I’d gone to Urgent Care because it was cheaper than the ER. Now they want me to pay for both.
The doctor had no patience for my bargaining. He looked me dead in the eyes and said that with blood pressure this high the hospital was my only option. I don’t remember the exact number, but my systolic blood pressure (that’s the top number) was in the 230s. Later it would be as high as 260. And in case you don’t know, you’re not supposed to go for a high score with blood pressure.
Minutes later I was outside of the CityMD wondering if it was really worth going to the ER, despite what the doctor said. It sounds so incredibly stupid in hindsight, but all I could think about was how much money (that I didn’t have) the trip would cost me. Yet, the doctor was insistent, more insistent than I ever remembered a doctor being with me… so I called my wife and told her I was going to the hospital.
