It was the best of days; it was the worst of days. Tuesday, January 7th. I had a heart attack. My big boy artery was 100% blocked. I didn’t know that when I went to work that morning. Feeling no pain and on to my job (back then I had a small construction business, my how things change) to remove and replace a section of a concrete driveway. Later in the afternoon my truck was breaking down and, as it turns out, so was I. As she frequently does my wife DB came to my rescue. She drove to where the truck and I where stranded, assisted me in trying and failing to fix the piece of junk, and then took me home. I told her a was feeling a little nauseous and after she dropped me off I spent the next hour admiring the toilet. When DB got home at 5 I was laying on the bathroom floor, pretty much exhausted. She asked if anything else hurt I told her my chest was though not alot. She immediately decided I was having a heart attack. She got me up and into the car after some real serious and loud language. And then it was off to the hospital and into the ER. DB told the people there what she believed was wrong and they took no time in wiring me up, stripping me down, inserting things in places I normally don’t expect them to be and rendering me unconscious. The next day I was awake and wearing the latest in hospital fashion (which was – I’ll show you my backside if you’ll show me yours or even if you won’t). I wouldn’t find out for many days what a real obnoxious, pain in everyone’s ass patient I was. But that’s for another day.