When I got to the ER, there were probably 20 or more people hanging around, waiting. It was just after six in the evening on New Year's Day. People are always hanging around the ER, but holidays are especially busy.
I went to the triage nurse and she smiled up at me. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked.
I said, "Well, I'm kind of having these chest pains ..."
Her smile froze, and things started happening very quickly.
The thing is, if you go into an Emergency Room and complain about a sore wrist, they will probably be very sympathetic and tell you to "... have a seat and we will call you." I would recommend having a book handy. Perhaps, say, "War and Peace". Or the entire Harry Potter series.
But if you go in with chest pains? Baby, that is the Golden Ticket to Willie Wonka's World o' Heart Monitors and Intravenous Fun! Nils Ling ... COME ON DOWN!
Within seconds I was on a stretcher in a trauma room, stripped to the waist and having electrodes stuck to various and sundry places on my body, including but not limited to my ankles. Now, the two nurses who were attending me were working quickly to get a reading as soon as possible. So they didn't spend a lot of time on niceties such as, say, shaving body hair from the places they would be applying very sticky electrodes. Put that in the category of Things That Don't Seem Like An Issue At The Time.
A very nice doctor came in and began looking over the information that had been collected. He asked questions about my history - family, medical, life-style. He was trying to get as clear a picture as possible of the patient in front of him in order to treat me more effectively and perhaps even save my life. I knew that.
So of course I had to fight the urge to lie.
"Are you a smoker?" he asked.
I hate that question. It reduces a complex issue down to a black and white, yes or no answer, which is really unfair. Because while on the one hand, I was, technically,a smoker, in the sense that I smoked ... on the other hand I really would have rather not been, so that I didn't have to say "yes" when he asked me if I was a smoker.
So I sugar coated it. I said, "Sort of. Yeah, I guess you could say that in a way I am. But I'm trying to quit. Or at least, that was my plan. Eventually." As impressive as my commitment was, I could tell it did not provoke admiration in their eyes.
"How many cigarettes in a typical day?"
See, now that is an entirely unfair question because it assumes all days are equal, that we're awake for the same amount of time and really, is any day "typical"? So I started to explain all this and he just rolled his eyes and shot me a look so I made my best guess. And because he has met people like me before, he rounded up. Way up. I wonder if the machine they hook you up to doubles as a lie detector?
You understand, I was not trying to be difficult or evasive. It's just that, like the vast majority of smokers, I was mortally ashamed of my addiction.
Here's the honest truth about smoking, and don't let anyone tell you differently: I do not know a single smoker who wants to smoke. I know smokers who bristle and insist that it is their right to smoke, that they want to have a cigarette, that they have the right to choose. But it's sort of sad, because really? They can't choose. They aren't strong enough, and on some level they know it. So rather than admit that they are unable to choose to not smoke, they defiantly insist they have made the choice to continue smoking.
If you ever want evidence of how addictive nicotine is, all you have to do is look at how it makes otherwise decent human beings lie to their friends, their loved ones, and themselves. That is one powerful drug. People who have never smoked just don't quite get that.
There were other questions, but by now the first readings were coming in from the blood lab and the computers and, for all I know, Mission Control in Houston. The doctor looked over the sheets.
"Okay," he said. "We're going to call in a cardiologist. And we're going to admit you. Now, is there somebody we should be calling for you ...?" I thought for a second.
Oh, right. My wife. Yes. This is exactly the kind of thing she would want to be told about ...
To be continued ...
Nils Ling's book "Truths and Half Truths" is a collection of some of his most memorable and hilarious columns. Send a cheque or money order for $25.00 (taxes, postage and handling included) to RR #9, 747 Brackley Point Road, Charlottetown, PE, C1E 1Z3
