Well, I guess I needed SOMETHING new to write about. Didn't think it would be this.
For the past few weeks, it was starting to feel like I was just babbling on about the same ol' stuff, week after week. Life had become so uninteresting that I was even starting to tire of my fall-back topics. My cats are mostly just boring. There's nothing interesting on TV because of the writers' strike. I haven't done much this summer, so I've had very little to openly whine about.
It was time to do something exciting to breathe some life into this column. I spent days weighing all my options before deciding on the perfect course of action that would invigorate my writing and give my massive fanbase the tantalizing and exotic content they've come to expect.
Clearly, I needed to suffer a heart attack.
And I was right. It was just the shot in the arm I needed. In fact, it was several shots, in both arms. And an IV. And a catheter. And a stent. And a lovely overnight stay in a deluxe resort complete with 24/7 attendants, complimentary round-the-clock blood testing, and a medicine cabinet's worth of souvenirs I get to take twice a day for the rest of my life. Umm, yay?
And to think, all it cost was most of my life savings, pretty much all of my dignity, and my future ability to ever eat anything that tastes good pretty much ever again. On the whole, I'd have to give this spontaneous vacation a 0 out of 10. Do not recommend.
But yeah. The good news is that I'm still ticking, thanks to some skilled cardiologists and some assorted miracles of science. Big ups to the hard-working staff at UnityPoint who were stretched to the bone but still made me feel like I was in good hands. Also a super huge shout-out to the nurse who let me pick the music while I was undergoing angioplasty. That's right, I DJ'ed my own heart attack. And apologies to the whole cath lab crew for being forced to listen to the Cocteau Twins against their will. I'd like to think that the moment I was out, they changed the channel. In hindsight, I probably should've just voted for whatever the cardiologist wanted to hear. I don't ever want to run the risk of irritating the person who's trying to save my life. "Well, I was GONNA do a good job, but man, this song's terrible."
I'd love to make serious fun of the whole situation, but there's a loud voice in my head saying, "TOO SOON, DUDE." I'm just not removed enough from the trauma to laugh about it quite yet, nor am I remotely done with all its fun. Ahead of me lies a nifty road of rehabilitation and tests and some rather serious lifestyle adjustments that I'm sure to be whining about in future columns if we're lucky.
I've already been given sample heart-healthy menu plans that sound about as appetizing as gruel. Except I probably can't have gruel because it's carb-loading, unless it's whole-grain, low-fat gruel. One of the items on the heart-healthy sample menu I received is -- and I quote -- "a gilding of shrimp." No explanation, no details beyond that. Simply a "gilding" of shrimp. And no, I don't have a farthing of a clue what a gilding is. I'm guessing it doesn't mean deep-fried and covered in cocktail sauce, though.
I hold some truths to be self-evident: Greek yogurt tastes nothing like sour cream. Salt substitutes are all fairly lousy substitutes for salt. Cauliflower that's been chopped up to the size of rice still tastes like cauliflower. If anybody knows how to make these icky vegetable things taste a bit less icky (that doesn't involve salt or cheese,) I'm all ears.
For reals, though, it's definitely leaf-turning time, and I'm all in. While couch-dwelling and pizza-eating has its pros, I believe I just ran smack into the cons. And they kinda hurt, and I'd very much like to never do this nonsense ever again. So here's to a future that might be full of diet and exercise and other gross stuff I'm not a big fan of, but it's a future nonetheless, and for that I'm thankful.
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