Weekly Mail Special Part One

Hello All:

                 So I've been going back and forth on this.... There are tons of reasons why I stopped writing every week. The lack of sufficient time to write not being the least of them, but also because now that I'm a husband and a father, I have to be more careful about what personal things I want to discuss. I had no issue in my single days ranting on about my various nights on the town, complete with details of drinking and debauchery. Depending on who I was with was really all I had to worry about.

         But of course now my life is all about my Tara and Timmy, and I'm not all that comfortable dragging them into my stories. For one thing, I think I have the greatest wife and son in the world, but so does any husband worth his salt. And maybe they don't want their lives to be an open book.

       So I've kept my rants to a few blurbs on Facebook. But I miss my writing. And I had something happen to me that I debated if I should make public. I would have rather told everybody in person, or even over the phone, but that would have been tough, if not impossible. So, I'm hoping this is the best way to do it. Some of you already know, for those who are about to find out, I hope you understand.

         On May 29th, the Rangers played the Lightning in Game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals. For the second time in the series, they made Lightning goalie Ben Bishop look like Jacques Plante by getting shut out at home, ending a President Trophy winning season without even a return trip to the Finals. At some point during the game, I had read that a colleague of mine at the Post, Rob Walsh, had died of cancer. I had been trying to find out for months where he had gone, and couldn't get a straight answer out of anyone. I ended up having to read about it in the Post the next day. It didn't help matters any that I polished off a few Miller Lites that Ray, Karl and Auggie had brought a couple of months earlier. (My drinking days have gone the way of my writing days-so this wasn't smart)

         The next day, Tara, Timmy and I were going for a walk on the boardwalk in Long Beach. Timmy ran out and almost got hit by some a$$hole on a bike. "What's wrong with you people?" the bike riding dickwad yelled at us. I was just happy Timmy was all right, but after I yelled at Timmy for running away from us, all I could think of was tracking down that scumbag and beating him senseless for nearly injuring my kid. I pretty much carried that with me the rest of the day.

         All day Sunday I had a persistent heartburn that I figured was the reminents of my three beer binge on Friday night, combined with the Rangers, Rob, and that evil bicyclist. And it was still there on Monday when I went to work. It was June 1st, 2015.

       I slogged through work and I figured it was just a case on the Mondays after a rough weekend. When I went to pick Timmy up from after school, I had to go up two flights of stairs, when I got to the top, I felt like I was going to pass out.  I shook it off, took some deep breaths and continued on. But I started to think something may not be right.

        I went home and had dinner with Tim, and I stayed on the couch till it was time to get Tara from work. When we got home, she asked me to go across the street to get some stuff for Timmy. To get the to the store I had to cross a street similar to Queens Boulevard (AKA the Boulevard of Death) Well, I felt like death when I got across. It was the craziest feeling I ever had. I sat down on a bench at the bus stop and waited till the feeling passed. Then I went home.

           Tara had just gotten home from working at the hospital, and Timmy had just gone to bed. The last thing I wanted to do was upset anybody, so I just silently prayed that whatever had happened to me on Long Beach Road was just in my mind. But after a few minutes, the pain and dizziness came back and I finally said to Tara, "I'm having bad chest pain, I think I have to go to the hospital."

          Remember when I said I think I have the greatest wife in the world? Well read on and see if I have a case. Tara called 911 and very calmly told the dispatcher what was going on. Then, she made sue that I took three aspirin. A cop came to the door with oxygen and hooked me up till the EMT arrived. Another cop came and they helped get me on a stretcher. By this time, the chest pain was really bad. Tara was reading the monitors and telling the EMT the readings. At no time did I look at her and see any panic, though I knew she had to be dying inside. My father in law came to watch Timmy and he and the cops were joking about how the Rangers were to blame for this.

          The ambulance rushed me to South Nassau Hospital. I remember the EMT, Tommy wheeled me in and said "Good Luck Bill." He looked like he had seen a ghost. Tara had a poker face, but that worried look on Tommy's face made me think that I was knock-knock-knockin on heaven's door.

The ER nurses confirmed what I kind of already figured, that I was in the throes of a full blown heart attack. They paged the cardiologist immediately and he got there quick. I heard one of the nurses say "Oh he's so sweaty" Man I was dying here, sweating was the least of it.

      I asked the doctor if he was going to put me out before he operated on me, and he said "No way Bill, you and I have to talk while this is going on."  I couldn't stand it anymore. I felt like about 10 people asked me my name and date of birth. I tried to ignore the last person who asked but they got right in my face and demanded I talk. I think they do that so you don't pass out. Another person asked me if I used cocaine and I said no. When he asked me if I was sure that I didn't use cocaine, I was honest with him. "I can't afford cocaine" I told him.

       Lo and behold I was on the operating table, and awake and alert the whole time. The only pain I felt was in my leg where they were running the stent up to my heart. The second that the doctor said ...and we GOT it" moving the blockage from my artery, I felt immediate relief. I have to admit it was pretty amazing. One of nurses looked at me and said "That feels better right?" as if they had just put a band aid on a cut. Yeah, it felt A LOT better. I could breathe easy again.

     They wheeled me out and took me to recovery. Tara called my job to tell them what happened. I was going to be out of commission for a while.

The first day of the rest of my life was upon me.


Next Week: PART TWO: The Hospital Stay.

A couple of quick notes..

1) It's almost as if the Mets saw what I wrote last week and said "HA! We'll see about THAT!" I promised that winning the NL East was accomplishment enough and that I wouldn't freak out if they didn't advance in the playoffs. Of course I didn't expect them to mail it in against the last place Phillies and get no-hit (for the second time this season) by Max Scherzer and the Washington Nationals either.
For goodness sakes, show some pride guys!

2) The incomprehensible tragedy in Oregon last week has once again triggered a new round of debate between gun activists and gun opponents. I'll get more into where I stand on this next week, but obviously, our hearts go out to the victims and their families.

That's all from here folks.
Have a Great Week
Bill