Life is a Runway

There are many blessings of living in the relative isolation of Canada's north. The isolation generally brings peace, calm and a comfortable distance from the cares and woes of the rest of the world. Usually, but not always. Sometimes isolation is insulation, sometimes it is just distance and sometimes distance can kill. I have always been a relatively healthy person, I rarely get sick, so staying close to things like hospitals and medical care had never been a priority. In the fall of 2005 I got a rude awakening and it changed my life forever.
It began with a summer that I would rather forget. My assistant Manager left to go on his holidays. It was not a great summer for weather. Hot and wet. I ended up unloading eight containers of freight with a few local kids, day after day, in the heat and the rain. I would finish the day at ten pm, soaked and so dirty I was scared to shower as I thought my wife would choke me for dirtying the shower. My face and arms were black. There is a queer kind of dirt that forms on freight that has been on the highway for thousands of miles. It is a pastiche of road tar, burnt wheel rubber, diesel and dust. It forms a black layer across the plastic in which the pallets are wrapped. It permeates every crack and crevice of furniture, appliances, motor oil, vacuums, pop, ketchup and the thousands of other items inside the containers. Combined with the humidity it smears the skin mixes with your sweat and makes you look like a coal miner at the end of a fourteen hour day, of humping a few thousand pieces of freight. You clamber over stacks of pop twelve feet high and pack mattresses and box springs through a hole in the warehouse loft four feet by six feet. At the end of a day every joint in your arthritic body aches and you walk in a stoop like an eighty year old man. Only the whites of your eyes are clean and you hurt in places you never knew you had. Falling asleep before you even had time to eat becomes normal. Waking up at three am in an arm chair, you stagger to your feet and wolf down some cold macaroni and collapse into bed for a couple more hours of fitful sleep.
I was living for the day when my assistant manager came back from holidays. To add insult to injury he gave me his notice the day he got back. He also had recalculated the remaining time off he had coming and spent the next week packing while I finished off the final containers. Then he was gone. I had never felt so totally alone, adrift and overwhelmed. I clung to the two things that always have supported me; my work and my Wife. Lina was marvelous, working in lockstep with me, putting in incredible hours and still managing to put meals on the table and clean clothes on my aching back. Finally in September, just short of the second barge's arrival, the District Manager sprung a young man free from another store. He was a dynamo who wanted to tackle everything at once and I needed the help so I too, even as tired and injured as I was stepped it up a notch.
Then my body rebelled, in a way that it never had before. At first I had no idea what was happening. Then I knew, but was in denial. Then I knew but wanted to keep going for just a couple of days, so naive was I. It started in earnest on Saturday, Saturday September 10th 2005. I had just carried an unassembled wall unit upstairs. A box with a shipping weight of 166 lbs, not a feather but not something that usually would tire me. When I came down the three flights of stairs I looked at Randy, he immediately put down what he was carrying. "What's wrong?" he could read something in my eyes that I couldn't verbalize. Couldn't verbalize because I couldn't breathe. Air was going in and out of my lungs like usual, or rather more than usual as the seconds passed and I realized that I wasn't really catching my breath. My respirations increased as I began to realize that something serious was wrong. I sat down on a box and lowered my head. I felt terrible; cold and nauseous with sweat pouring down my face in sheets. When I could speak, I told him that I felt sick, I staggered to the doorway, collapsed to my knees and tried to vomit. I couldn't. Randy was now getting very nervous so I lied. I laughed and said that I must have the flu and he should keep going and I would catch up. I sat down and in time it passed. Soon I was joking, perhaps a bit too much, and back at it, working even harder to convince him that I was fine. Or was I trying to convince myself? Somewhere in the back of my brain a little bell was ringing. That night when the hectic stress of the day was over and the cobwebs started to clear I reviewed the events of the day. What the hell had happened? What was wrong with me? I had some of the symptoms of a heart attack, but just some and some of them did not ring true to me. As a Firefighter I have taken first aid and CPR courses and thought I knew a lot. I was about to get a reality check.
Sunday was warm for September, which at the 63rd parallel can be cold and even snowy. Instead it was bright and clear. Randy was at the door bright and early. We started doing a grocery pull, hauling groceries from the warehouse to the store to keep the shelves full. A grueling never ending job that took hours and many loads in the company truck, a three quarter ton Ford. We hauled sugar and flour, canned goods and pop, lots and lots of pop. It was after the fourth or fifth load that the symptoms returned, as before, only worse. We were at the back steps of the store, throwing one of hundreds of cases of pop onto carts to be loaded on the shelves. Suddenly I lost my breath, within seconds I was gasping for breath and doubled over. I tried repeatedly to vomit but couldn't. I knew now that this was my heart. "I will be right back" I gasped. I went home as fast as I could. I avoided Lina and went straight to the bathroom. I searched the shelf for aspirin. I quickly swallowed four, the maximum adult dose. By this time I was starting to recover. I rifled the cabinet for the small red bottle of nitro glycerin that a nurse in Old Crow Yukon had given me when she noted that I had a funny rhythm on my ECG. I took a couple of sprays under my tongue. Almost immediately I began to feel better.
My mind was racing. I needed a few moments to gather my thoughts so I locked the door and sat on the toilet. It was crystal clear to me now what was wrong. What wasn't at all clear to me was what I should do about it. I had so much to do before the second barge arrived. I knew if I went to the nursing station that I might not be allowed to go back to work. I couldn't dump all this on Lina and Randy. I had to make it through somehow. Get it done, I thought, get it all done and then you can be sick. I would carry the nitro, I would take extra doses of aspirin, and I would take it a bit easier. I was rationalizing and slowly convincing myself that I was alright and that this whole thing would go away. It didn't go away long.
Somehow I muddled through then next eight or ten hours and was able to get to bed at midnight, exhausted, stressed beyond belief and dreading what the dawn would bring. I barely slept. I awoke Monday and was right back into a stressful work week. There were staff missing, shelves to fill, paperwork to be done. Orders needed doing, the warehouses still weren't finished. But by lunch I was still on my feet. I thought I had it all in hand, just a few more days and I would tell Lina what was wrong, and believe me she knew something was wrong. We were on our way home for lunch when it happened again. On the way home for lunch for crying out loud! At least the last time I had just finished handling thousands of pounds, TONS, of freight! Now it was happening when I was on my way home for lunch. Before I had been able to lie to Lina about how severe it was. Now, she was inches away from my pasty grey face. She could hear me retching and see that I wasn't breathing. She sounded panicked, "What do I do?" she said, her voice breaking, her lip trembling. "Call the nurse." I said mustering as much calm as I could under the circumstances. I remembered that you should place heart attack victims in the recovery, or fetal position. I tried to lie down but couldn't. I couldn't breathe when I was down there. Lina was frantically trying to find the phone book. She looked at me with terror in her eyes, it even scared me. It must be bad, I thought. I couldn't drive so I said to Lina as calmly as I could "Let's just go to the nursing station". She nodded emphatically and helped me with my shoes. She supported me on the way to the nursing station. We must have been an odd looking sight, all six feet and two hundred sixty pounds of me supporting himself on 98 pound four foot eleven (four foot eleven and three quarters Lina liked to say. I like to tease her and tell her she's three foot twenty three and three quarters). It was only about a city block and a half and somehow she got me there. If I needed confirmation that I looked awful, I got it in spades. When we reached the Nursing station M.J. was at her usual spot in reception. She was on the phone. She looked up, saw my face and said "I have to go!" and slammed down the phone before she finished her statement. She ran to the nurse on duty and soon I was ushered into the trauma room, displacing a wonderful Elder lady to whom I apologized profusely, she took my hand and said it was alright. The nurses were soon both there removing my shirt and hooking up leads all over my chest and ribs. "Are you in pain?" one asked. I hadn't thought about pain, I had only thought about breathing. "Yes!" I replied. "On a scale of one to ten, ten being the worst?" she inquired, I thought about it, I have had a lot of pain, as a person living with RA (rheumatoid arthritis) I live with pain. "About and eight." I said. They gave me morphine. They gave me oxygen and it was a blessing. I never thought about the fact that your heart pumps blood to your lungs. Without the blood going to the lungs, you cannot breathe, you could literally suffocate. I had been suffocating. After twenty minutes the nurse asked if I had any pain, it had not changed. I had a searing pain on the right side of my chest. This is partly what threw me; I had always thought that I should have pain in the left side of my chest. This isn't true as I later discovered. The pain can even be in your back. It all depends on where on your heart the blockage is. The nurses sent my ECG off to Yellowknife; Doctors there decided that I should be med-evaced at the first opportunity. The first opportunity would be five hours away, the nurses informed me. Unfortunately I could not be shipped out until I was stable.
Lina had to leave to reopen the store. As surreal as it seemed, life goes on for those around you. She took my hand and kissed my cheek and then she was gone. She had to call my boss, and make arrangements.The nurses gave me a second shot of morphine, with absolutely no effect. Meanwhile they inserted tubes in my wrist and began an I.V. Time passed very slowly, nothing seemed to change, I always imagined that they could just inject something and it would be over. Nothing could be further from the truth. Finally they gave me another shot of morphine, slowly, very slowly the pain subsided, my heart rhythm stabilized and I could be sent out. The plane from Yellowknife would be there at 5:30 some four and a half hours after I had come in. Then the nurses would hand me over to the med-evac team. Lina flitted in and out, it was a check day so she was very busy at the store and she wanted to be anywhere else. People were even coming into the nursing station, right into my room asking if they could cash their check. I wasn't even dead yet, I thought and they wanted their checks cashed, this was too surreal!

Lina went home and packed me a bag; she brought my jacket, "Your cigarettes and lighter are in the pocket." she said "What do you want me to do with them?” "Throw them in the garbage!" I replied I haven't smoked since; she smiled a tear on her cheek at the same time. The med-evac nurse came into the room and put a second I.V. tube in my other wrist. "It's just a precaution, in case the first one works loose." she said. They replaced all the leads hooked to my chest with their own and hooked me up to a portable monitor. Things started moving faster, I had lain there for five hours now events seemed to be moving too fast. I was bundled into a sleeping bag for the trip on the plane. The nurses backed off and allowed Lina and I a moment alone. She took my hand and looked down into my eyes; I was beginning to feel very alone. "I'm sorry." I said "For putting you through all this." Tears were pouring down her face. "I love you so much!" she replied. "I'm scared." I said. It took a lot to admit this.
I have been scared before, fear is natural, like pain it is nature's way of protecting you. In the past I have been; buried alive, blown up and in many fires including one where I was burnt from finger tips to arm pits. I have survived three car accidents where the vehicle I was in was totaled. Though any of these things could have killed me they were relatively brief, exceptionally quick in the case of the explosion, I was thrown through the air by a cloud of exploding propane. It was over before I had time to be scared. This was different. I had time to lay there and think about what was happening. In fact, the whole time I was laying there I was thinking about the fact that I had received a summary of my RRSP and it still listed my Mother as my beneficiary. I was terrified of dying and leaving Lina without enough to live on. I figured they wouldn't let me change it now, not if I was dying.
Maybe something else was at work here. I had never had so much to lose. I had finally met my soul mate, the woman I had waited for all my life. We had a good life in spite of the hard work and long hours. We had a good thing happening and I wasn't ready to check out.
We had not faced anything like this before. It was tearing me apart to have to leave her, when I needed her more than ever before. I stammered out an apology for not having checked on the beneficiary line of my RRSP before, but that just made her cry more. It was the furthest thing from her mind. I told her to say good-bye now so that it would be a bit easier for both of us. The plane was warming up and I had to get going.

This is one thing about living in the north that kind of bites. The distance from help when you need it. The nursing stations are small and fairly well equipped and the nurses are marvelous, doing so much more than their counterparts in the south. But there is no substitute for a fully equipped trauma unit.

The nurses and some volunteers took me to the back of the nursing station van and took me to the airport where a specially equipped plane was waiting. A telescoping track was sticking out of the rear door and my stretcher was loaded on to it. The door was closed and I was hooked up to the plane's oxygen and telemetry for the two hour flight to Yellowknife. This was the riskiest part of the journey, there was so little that could be done in the confines of that small aircraft. As we took off I wondered if I would ever see my beloved Lina again.
The flight went well, and was even a few minutes early. The ambulance was waiting and two Yellowknife paramedics loaded me in the ambulance for the drive to the hospital. The drive was a little longer than usual due to some construction on the airport road. It was then that I felt my heart beating funny. The paramedic raised her voice and barked something to the driver and the other paramedic. She checked the printout and looked at my eyes. I was feeling suddenly weak and was perspiring, but already I could feel it passing. "What was that?" I asked. She smiled and said "its O.K. just some arrhythmia, it's actually a good thing it will help the cardiologist determine what kind of heart attack you had." They called ahead to the hospital to report the event. Minutes later the ambulance passed through an open garage door.
They closed the doors before taking the stretcher out of the ambulance. I was wheeled into emergency through the back doors past empty stretchers and rows of staff's jackets and boots. The hallways were narrow and I was wheeled into a small room just big enough for the stretcher to fit. I was transferred to a bed and again the leads of the ECG were disconnected and reconnected. A Doctor with a clipboard approached; on it was the printout from the ambulance. I had seen the Paramedic give it to the Nurse on duty when we came in. He introduced himself and said “How are you feeling Gregory?" "Just call me Greg." I replied, "I feel O.K. now." "You had a bit of arrhythmia in the ambulance. Are you over it now?" "Yes" "We are going to admit you shortly for observation and tests; we want to see what is happening." The Doctor made some notes on the chart and left the room. Nurses bustled about adjusting this and checking that. They took my blood pressure for the umpteenth time and asked me if I was cold. I was rather, so they brought me a thin blanket which was surprisingly warm. They raised the bed and made me comfortable. The Nurse from the desk outside came in and said "Your Wife is on the phone would you like to talk to her?" Would I!!!! She patched the call through to a phone on the wall in this little cubicle and passed me the handset which had an enormous cord. To say it was good to hear her voice would be like Neil Armstrong writing in his diary about his first steps on the moon, "Took a walk, went to a different place than usual." Her voice was edgy but less so than in the nursing station. “I called your Mom." she said. "Good." I replied. I had the feeling it would be some time before I could call her myself. It was good to hear her voice, it calmed me. Time was dragging on; nurses and Doctors were coming and going, taking blood, taking blood pressure checking the monitors. The Nurse again entered the room and said that my Mother was on the phone. Again she handed me the phone and I spoke to her. I tried to assuage her fears, I was in good hands and so far all was well. About ten pm a Nurse stuck her head in the room and asked me if I was hungry. It hadn't occurred to me, but I was, terribly hungry, in fact. I had not eaten all day. She said the kitchen help had gone home but she would try to rustle up some toast. She returned shortly with toast, and God bless her, peanut butter. I ate slowly savoring every bite. I was very tired, from the weeks of working without a day off and from the stress of the day’s events. "It won't be long." the Nurse assured me. "They are getting ready for you up in ICU." It hadn't occurred to me that I would be in intensive care. I had assumed I would be in a regular room. I just wanted to sleep. After 11 pm they came in and got me ready for the transfer.
Once again they disconnected my leads and transferred me to a gurney. After a trip through winding halls I was brought upstairs in an elevator. I was lead into ICU which had four other beds, patients splayed out in a star shaped pattern. Nurses circulated through the room checking the various patients. I could see no one else save the one person immediately beside me and a large man directly across from me. He seemed to be in intense pain and cried out frequently. Above my bed, behind me was a monitor, with my vitals. I was hooked up to a blood pressure cuff which automatically inflated every half an hour or so. The cries of the suffering man and the blood pressure machine, coupled with the constant drawing of blood and other tests precluded all but the briefest of cat naps.

About 3 am I felt another fluttering of my chest worse than the one in the ambulance, I awoke and looked toward my feet two Nurses were staring at my monitor. One looked at the other and said "Those are the ones that usually don't make it." She said it with such certainty that it sent chills down my spine.

"Wake up!" she said shaking my foot. She didn't know I was already awake. "Did you feel that?" she asked. "Yes" I replied. "The Doctor is on his way." she offered. He arrived within seconds and made some more notes on my chart, the Nurses put something in my I.V. "Try to rest." he added assumingly. Right!The rest of the night passed with only a few minutes of fitful sleep. Things started to stir about 5 am. Nurses were wrapping up the night shift doing their last checks and waking us up to do it. No problem I was awake anyways. I wanted so badly to call Lina but it seemed impossible. When was breakfast anyways? I was starving. There was no window no way of knowing what the weather was like, whether the sun was up or anything. My view was of a rolling curtain, light blue. Time seemed to crawl in here; the sense of timelessness was heightened by the lack of sensory input. I often wonder what it must be like to live a less hectic life. Some days while I thread my way through an eleven or twelve or fourteen hour day, I would look at those around me who have a less hectic lifestyle. I would see people in the store, pushing a shopping cart at three in the afternoon and envy there less harried gait. I would tousle my dog’s hair as I headed to the warehouse and envy the sight of him curled up so sedately. The line of the Frost poem stopping in the woods on a snowy evening

For I have promises to keep.
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.

Often runs through my head. I had thought of hospitals as restful places, I was soon learning that nothing could be further from the truth.

As I lay there I was thinking how unfortunate it was that no one I knew who lived in Yellowknife was actually there at that time. I didn't even know if you could visit someone in ICU. The shifts of nurses changed and the new Nurse went through the same battery of tests the outgoing shift had just done. I was groggy from lack of sleep, stress and general fatigue from months of seven day weeks.

I longed for sleep, but was scared to sleep, afraid that while I slept I might have another heart attack. The Nurses words last night kept running through my mind. I wanted to be at home, at work, at ease, with my wife.

At last a tray arrived with my breakfast. Hospital food is not the greatest at the best of times. Add to that a diabetic diet with no sodium and you can imagine what awaited me under the metal dome. Bland tasteless and lukewarm it still tasted good as I was very hungry. I was told the Doctor would see me that morning. The big guy in the bed opposite was screaming now, delirious with pain, begging for water that Nurses could not give him due to his condition. I wash awash in the surreal, floating on a sea of fatigue; half asleep, half awake. Time was crawling. Nurses coming and going, poking, prodding, and every half hour the cuff on my arm inflated, prohibiting any sleep.


Eventually the level of activity increased, the halls were busier, the phones were ringing, and I began to take cues from things other than windows and clocks. I didn't even have my watch, which had been removed for the IV tubes. Mid morning a Nurse asked me if there was anyone I wanted to call. "I can do that?" I asked. She brought me a phone and with the aid of a calling card I called Lina. She was already at work, though the store didn't open for two hours. She was so glad to hear my voice and I hers. I told her a much as I knew about what was happening but kept it all upbeat. I asked her to call Mom. She said that when she called my boss, and old friend, Scott he had said that he was cutting his trip short and was on his way back to Yellowknife and would come to see me as soon as he could. That was a relief. More than anything I needed to touch base with someone I knew.

The Doctor told me I did the right thing by taking aspirin and did the wrong thing by waiting to come in. He told me they would try to get me in to hospital in Edmonton for further tests. Soon he left. This was all I had to look forward to for the day so the rest of it was more of the same, more of the big guy screaming, more poking and prodding more inflating cuff and no more sleep.

Day drifted into evening, another tasteless, lukewarm delight for supper. I almost found myself dreading the night, the semi dark, the cries of that poor man, delirious with pain, bagging for water and relief that the Nurses cannot give him. Part of me wanted to do anything to ease his pain and part of me just wanted him to shut up! I ached for sleep with every fiber of my being. Night came anyways. The pace on the ward slowed, the lights were lowered and again the artificial world without sun or wind or cold closed in on me and I was alone with my thoughts, alone except for the screaming.
Eventually things began to stir, lights went on, and shifts changed, tests, more tests. Lukewarm gruel for breakfast. I am allowed to sit up for this, it is a blessing. A basin of water is brought for me to wash and clean shorts to change into. I feel better after a wash, but not for long, the fuzziness returns. I wait for the Nurse to have a free moment so I can get the use of the phone. Lina's voice is like music to my ears. She tells me that when she called my Boss, Scott he jumped on a plane back to Yellowknife, he is going to visit today, this morning, in fact. This is great news. The Nurses are too busy to do more than conduct a quick comment here or there. I long to talk to someone. I keep Lina on the line as long as I can; I hear the tension in her voice. She wants to be here as bad as I want her here. All too soon she had to go. Nothing bad had happened to me in the last night, I wanted so badly to be put in a regular room, and I wanted to sleep. The Doctor came and sat down, this time. He had a serious look on his face. "I hear you want out of here." He said patiently. "I'm not surprised, but I'm afraid you can't. As long as you stay in ICU you stay on the priority list. That means you go to the head of the line to have an Angiogram in Edmonton. It's the only way we will find out what's wrong with you and a chance to have it fixed." I could only agree. This was good and bad news, I know I need help, but I wasn't sure when I would be getting out of here. I waited for Scott's visit; he brought me some magazines which were welcomed. Not as much as I welcomed his company. I have known Scott for years and he is my friend as well as a damn good Boss. I told him what I knew which wasn't much but at least I wasn't having any more heart problems. "You look like hell." He said smiling. I smiled too, only a friend can say something like that at a time like this but it was funny and we both laughed nervously. We made small talk and he warned me that things would have to change when I got home. Home, it seemed a million miles away. He stayed a while, and then left to do some work. "I'll be back this afternoon, you want anything?" "Large pizza with the works and a double, double." I said laughing. "If I did that I would need a bed in here when Lina got a hold of me!" We both laughed and it felt good. When Scott left the Nurse approached, she began taking more tests, pulse BP etc. "You are lucky," she said. "How so?" I replied, puzzled. "You are going to the Royal Alex in Edmonton tomorrow. For an angiogram. They're the best they do a million of them there, they are the McDonald's of heart procedures." I was delighted. Getting out of here would be fantastic. I couldn't wait to tell Lina. "Can I use the phone?" I asked. "Sure" she said, smiling.

I thought Lina would be ecstatic, but there was a hesitation in her voice when she heard my news. "Edmonton..." she stammered.”But I'm going to Yellowknife on Friday!" "I don't know how long I'll be there, but come anyways, wait for me here. You need to get out of there." "Yes" she said, I am happy that things are finally moving. I'll call your Mom." "No, I’ll do it, the Nurse is busy." "She'll be glad to hear from you." I could hear the happiness in Lina's voice. Mom was happy too, I could hear it over the three thousand kilometers between us. Miraculous things telephones, thanks Mr. Bell. I told Mom about the news, I told her about the food. I didn't mention the later heart problems and I sure didn't mention what the Nurse had said the night I first got here. We have always sheltered each other from bad news. I was always finding out things had happened after the crisis was over, now I was doing it. Apples don't fall far from the tree. "That's good." she said enthusiastically when I told her the news. We said good-bye with a lot more optimism than the last time. The Nurse was waiting with a needle in her hand so I hung up. She drew blood and left, without speaking. She saw the smile on my face and she was smiling too, when she left.

Lunch was tasteless and scarce. I ate it quickly as the fellow was screaming again, begging for water. It was hard to enjoy the food as it was; it was even harder to eat when someone is in the next bed screaming for what you are eating with disdain. A new patient was in the ICU, she was an Inuit lady, and though I never saw her I heard her name and heard the Nurse say where she was from. She had fluid on her lung and was waiting for an operation. Her breathing was so labored I thought she would not make it through the day. Scott returned that afternoon, we talked about my news and he seemed happy. "Lina can wait for you here," he said "She needs a break." "From there or from me?" I asked sardonically. "Both." He laughed. It was good to laugh. No matter what happened it was good to laugh.
After Scott left the rest of the day dragged, but I had something to look forward to and it wasn't supper. The night was even worse. The big guy moaned, less strongly than before, he was more delirious. The new Lady was moaning as best she could with one lung. She was in agony. I could only imagine the pain she was in from the pressure on her chest. I had some idea of what it must be like. About 2:00 am she began to cough and convulse. I could see nothing but I heard the Nurse rush to her bedside. She sounded an alarm and soon she was joined by two more medical staff. "We have to get the fluid off her lung!" Someone said forcefully. Someone trundled a cart into the room and I heard a lot of movement and rustling. The woman moaned. The big guy roused and let out a scream. I heard someone say where to insert the tube, next there was a splash, and the Lady let out a huge gasp. She had caught a lung full of precious air. "Call housekeeping." said one of the nurses. The lady was breathing better now, deeply, hungrily. She thanked the Nurses. They seemed pleased. They pulled back and spoke in hushed voices. Apparently the liter and a half of fluid they had taken out of her chest was supposed to go into a container and not on the floor. It had been messy, but she was alive and so grateful for it.

The big guy was in full cry now, he was inconsolable. No amount of painkiller would help him. He moaned and screamed the whole night through.

Shortly before the shift change that marked morning he stopped. He was too spent to scream. I was glad he was quiet. The Nurse began to get ready for the arrival of the med -evac team. Once again the leads were changed over. No food today, not that I would miss it. Soon I was on a gurney for the trip to the airport, the reverse of what had happened Monday evening. The flight to Edmonton was only slightly longer than the flight to Yellowknife. I tried to sleep and did for just a few minutes. Mostly I reveled in the fresh air, the daylight as it broke over the airport. My bag of clothes was here too. I longed to get them back on, to feel human again, and to no longer be a patient. We arrived in Edmonton on time the ambulance was late, but on the way. Soon I was on the way to the Royal Alexandra Hospital. We arrived in only a few moments as the Med -evac arrives at what used to be known as the Muni, The Municipal Airport which is right downtown. Northerners know this place as most flights from the north used to land here. Soon I was being wheeled into a waiting area, once again I was reconnected a curtain was pulled and I was given one of those humiliating gowns with no back in them. It was hard to stand up; I hadn’t done this in four days. There would be a wait of about three hours before the operation. I wanted so bad to talk to Lina. I lay waiting in an area of about ten such cubicles and marveled at how fast the patients were wheeled out only to be replaced by someone new. I found out later that this was one of two such waiting rooms. I felt mildly nervous. The angiogram would determine what was wrong and therefore what needed to be done. Best case was that nothing at all was wrong, which we knew wasn't the case. Next case was that I needed a balloon angioplasty where they insert a catheter into your heart and inflate it expanding the clogged artery and opening it up. Worst case would be that the damage was so extensive that I would need open Heart surgery and a bypass. I dreaded this. Time passed, patients came and went I had been sent in early due to the risk that weather might delay my flight.

Eventually they came for me and I was wheeled into the operating room. There were a lot of people in there, technicians and Nurses, at least two Doctors, other staff bustled about. I was laid on a table and they introduced a sedative to the I.V. (sedative meet I.V. I.V. meet sedative.) they had put in earlier. I felt euphoric, my body which ached from laying down so much soon felt weightless and I was in a Zen-like state. This stuff was great; I could use some of this most weekdays about 3:00 pm. The Doctor inserted a catheter in my wrist which he would shake up the veins into my heart. He watched his progress on a monitor, which I too was able to see. Kind of freaky when you think about it. In the next room, on another monitor another more senior Doctor watches the whole process. Occasionally a speaker cuts in and he gives direction to the Doctor working on me. When they had discovered what they wanted they had a brief conference. I was on pins and needles. My greatest worry was that I would require a by-pass. The Doctor approached and asked "Is it O.K. if we perform the angioplasty now?" I vigorously agreed. "We are going to insert a stent." He said. I had been briefed that this was a possibility so I knew what he meant. I was greatly relieved. He reinserted the catheter and worked it into position; he inflated the balloon that would expand the vein. As he did I again felt my chest tighten, my breath left me. He had explained that the procedure would give me the symptoms of a heart attack as the catheter blocked the very vein it would open. This time they gave me nitro first so I didn't get the worst of the symptoms. Still it was an uncomfortable feeling having to go through what amounted to another heart attack. It is weird when you know what it is that is happening. Then they inserted a stent a wire tube that holds the vein open. The procedure went well and I was able to watch the whole thing on the video screen. They even gave me a before and after printout of the heart to show where the stent was. Soon they were disconnecting me and wheeling me up to recovery. Recovery sounded pretty good to me. I prayed it would be quieter than ICU, I so badly wanted to sleep. I also wanted to talk to Lina very badly.
They attached a device to my wrist that looked like a huge cable tie. It had a sort of key mechanism and they attached a tool and tightened it so that I would not bleed out of the wrist. It had to stay on for five hours they would relax it every hour or so. At first it was just tight but soon it was all that I could think of it hurt so badly. They took me upstairs to recovery where there was a window. I looked out on Edmonton; I had never seen anything so beautiful. It was a dour day, raining slightly but it was so nice to see something, anything out a window that I was ecstatic. I asked about using the phone and was told that I would be allowed to go for a walk in an hour so and there was a pay phone in the hall. I lay down and relaxed. The pain in my wrist was terrific and I longed for that first turn of the screw that would relax it. Shortly we had supper. Hospital food never tasted so good. After supper the nurse came and said "You have to get up and take a walk now." I was delighted. "Try to go at least 200 ft, the hallway is marked." "200 ft? I can do a lot better than that!" I exclaimed. "Don't be so sure." she said. "You've been in bed five days. Have you ever lain in bed five days before?" "Not as far as I know." I answered. "Take it easy, you'll be weak." I said that I would. She was right it was harder than I thought. My legs were atrophied from lack of use, lack of sleep and from all the stress. I made it 200 feet then made a beeline for the payphone. I called Lina. She was at work. "Guess who?' I said disguising my voice. "My love!" She said excitedly. There was no fooling her. "I leave for Yellowknife tomorrow. Meet me there." I told her the news. About what had happened, what the Doctor had said. I could hear she was busy. I wanted to talk but I knew it was Thursday night and she would be crazy busy. I hesitated. “I’m sorry.” I said. "Sorry?” "Sorry I put you through all this. I love you and I will call you later." I hung up and quickly called my Mom. I caught her up on all that had happened. Soon I was back in the recovery room. Sitting on the edge of the bed swinging my legs like a small child, bored in Church.
Again they came and took another notch of pressure off my wrist. The pain, when it returned was not as bad this time. The worst was over. Evening fell and street lights came on. I stared at the traffic as it slowed to a trickle. Somewhere people were eating supper, reading newspapers, watching TV. Somewhere the world was normal. Somewhere couples were together. I wanted Lina back so bad. I wanted to hold her and never let her go again. We were joined at the hip. Ever since she came to work with me. Against my advice I'll point out. She went over my head, to my boss. I had told her it was not a good idea for couples to work together. "We're bound to fight, if we spend too much time together." I had told her. Not the first time in my life I have been wrong and not the last either. My boss called me the next day and told me in no uncertain terms to hire her, "Are you crazy? Where are you going to find someone with her qualifications?" It had been decided for me. I haven't regretted it. Being together twenty four seven has made us closer than most couples, I think. I miss having her counsel on even the most mundane things. I also miss it when we do not have shared experiences. We go through everything together. When we are apart it is nearly unbearable, especially at a time like this.
I would be discharged tomorrow, but I wouldn't get to Yellowknife until Saturday. Still, I didn't care. I was getting out of hospital. Just before our nighttime snack they removed the strap from my wrist, it was bliss. I made one last call to Lina and went to bed. The pace of the room was somewhat calmer than ICU but I still did not sleep well. There were the usual checks of vitals, a crisis in an adjoining room that did not end well, and lots of interruptions, sirens wailed. It was a long night. I had slept less than six hours since admission, I was exhausted.
In the morning there was some confusion about my release, they did not want me to be released as I had no chaperone. Eventually the caseworker arrived and we worked out the details. I would be released after lunch. From there I would go the Larga House, a hostel for NWT residents. When my release time came I was excited and wanted to get out of the hospital as soon as possible, first I had to fill a prescription. From the lobby I called my old friend Mike Savage. It was pouring outside, a dull dreary day; the trees were weeping leaves to the ground. The city was gray, the buses flared plumes of spray as they motored down the streets. It was hard to hide the joy in my voice as I described the day, and how great it was to be alive! I was on a cloud. "I am in the lobby of the Royal Alex in Edmonton!” I said enthusiastically. "It is wet and dreary, cloudy and dull and it may be the most beautiful day I have ever seen!" "It's good to hear your voice!" He said, and I could tell he meant it. "I just needed to tell you that." I added. We spoke for nearly half an hour. I needed to tell someone how good it felt at that moment. I had never felt more alive in my life. It is something you need to share with someone you have known as long as you can remember.
I waited on the curb for the van from Larga House. Beside me was some poor soul in hospital gown, with a summer jacket over his shoulders, shivering and clutching an IV stand as he smoked a cigarette. For the first time since this whole thing happened I thought about smoking, the smell nauseated me. "Guess that I'll never do that again!" I thought to myself. Three years later and still smoke free. The van pulled up and the driver said "You must be Greg!" "You must be psychic," I replied. It's on your jacket he said, not many folks around here have a Tulita VFD jacket. “We both laughed. He stopped to pick up a couple more passengers and we headed back to Larga House. It was bigger than I thought with a nice cafeteria that offered wild meats on the menu most meals. The artwork and decor was northern, I felt a little closer to home.
Across the street was a mall. I checked in and walked slowly over to it. I still didn't have much energy. I wanted to get a haircut and some new clothes. I don't know why but the first time I saw Lina I wanted her to see me well. Not the pathetic dying man she had left at the nursing station. I got a haircut, bought a sport coat and pair khakis. I bought a new dress shirt and new socks and shorts as I was out of clean ones anyways. Then I headed for the Florists, I bought a big bunch of yellow roses, Lina's favorites. Passing jewelers I asked the clerk if they had any pearls. She showed me some single strands. Lina had once told me she wanted a pearl choker. I visited every shop in the mall and was about to give up when the clerk said "I do have one three strand set that was a special order. It never got picked up. As soon as I saw it I wanted it for her. "It's gorgeous!" I said. She returned it to the beautiful wooden case and I left the store beaming. As I strode down the mall two women approached. They looked at the flowers and the bag from the jewelry store. "You must have done something terrible!" they chided as we approached. I fought back a tear as I replied "I did. Monday I had a heart attack! I scared the hell out of the woman I love. Sometimes it takes a thing like that to show you what is really important!" They looked at each other, looked at the expression on my face and touched me gently on the arm as they passed. There was a lot said, in that moment of compassionate silence.
I went back to the hostel and ate moose meat for dinner, it was delicious. I saw a few friends I hadn't seen in years. We caught up on old times and I called my whole family from the lobby payphone. I called work and they told me where Lina was staying. I called our cell phone and she answered. She would meet me at the airport the next morning. I barely slept again, this time only from being nervous that I would oversleep as I had to be downstairs at 05:30.I was twenty minutes early. The van was full going to the airport. We drove through the nearly empty streets and I dozed in the van.
I had only one bag so it took no time at all to clear security. I went to gate 49 where most flights to Yellowknife board. The flight took about as long as the med-evac had taken it just seemed longer. Yellowknife’s barren rocky expanse with its' scrubby trees never looked so good. When I came through the arrivals door both Lina and my boss Scott were waiting for me. I hugged Lina lifting her off the floor and squeezing her like I was trying to make us one. She protested saying I should take it easy. I hugged Scott too. It was great to see him again. I had felt so alone going through this it felt great to be in from the cold. Scott dropped us at the hotel. Lina and I went out to lunch. We sat and talked it was so nice to be with her and to talk without having to get back to work or have a nurse hovering over you. I could see the fatigue in her face as I had heard it in her voice. In spite of this her eyes had their usual sparkle that endears her to everyone who meets her. We went back to the hotel and I slept a bit. We got up and had supper then we returned to the hotel where I slept for almost 12 hours. I never sleep well when I am apart from Lina. Laying there beside her, my whole world is complete. I can relax in a way I can never do without her. I thought of the evenings at home, I lived alone for most of my adult life; I was nearly forty when we married. When we are enjoying an evening together, especially those cold winter evenings, when nothing special is happening, the wind is howling, the snow drumming the windows. I like to relax and think how lucky I am to be safe and warm with my wife and my dog Buttons all snug under our roof, wherever it is, Ft resolution, Old Crow, here in Tulita wherever, it is home. Home! With all the comfort and peace that is entailed in that simple word. I only need this to be happy. A warmth envelopes me, a peace I have never known. I had always wondered what it meant to have someone love you unconditionally, it is heaven.
Tom Cochrane said in his song that "Life is a highway" sorry Tom, but I beg to disagree, a highway has no beginning, no end, it just runs on forever. For me life is a runway. It has a very definite beginning and also, as I now know; a very definite end. On a second level perhaps too a runway is life, as I owed my life to a runway and a med -evac team. So take a lesson from me and don't take life for granted, don't be depressed by the fact that life is a runway not a highway, just relax and enjoy the flight!