Red Wine

“I probably didn’t need that last glass of wine last night.”

“You probably didn’t need that last bottle!”

Denise and I were lying in bed. It was Saturday morning and I felt like crap. The previous evening our friends Alan and Patty had dropped by. We drank a few bottles of wine. At least Patty and I did. Alan later reported that Patty wasn’t feeling that great either.

I had to recover. That evening we had plans to go to a party thrown by our friends Paul and Cindy Skalny. We had been looking forward to it.

“Maybe you should stay in bed for awhile.” That sounded like a good idea to me. Denise was giving me a free pass on our regular Saturday routine. She said she would also keep my daughter occupied. Morgan is nine years old. She spends every Saturday with her dad. I had promised to take her to Clark’s Elioak Farm later that afternoon. Denise didn’t think that was such a great idea.

“When are we going to the petting zoo?” Morgan had come up to our bedroom. It was then about three o’clock in the afternoon. Typical of a dad, I am somewhat of a pushover for my daughter.

“I’ll get up now and we can go.” I still wasn’t feeling that great but I convinced myself I felt a little better. I was beginning to suspect that perhaps this was more than a red wine hangover I was dealing with. We went to the petting zoo and she had a great time. I felt tired but otherwise okay. Still, I took it slow and avoided any running around. Before long we were back home and it was time to shower up and get ready to go to the party.

Around six o’clock I was all dressed and ready to go. The babysitter was at the house and Denise had put together a little dinner for Morgan. I went back upstairs to get a sports coat. No sooner than I walked into our bedroom I started feeling a little nauseous. I sat down on the sofa in our bedroom. I felt real clammy. This was certainly no red wine hangover like I had ever experienced. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, I had just had my heart attack.

“I don’t think I should go to the party tonight.” Even though she was dressed and ready to go, Denise immediately agreed with that plan.

“You should climb back in bed.”

She got no argument from me. I was now beginning to think that a trip to the hospital was not outside the realm of possibilities. Still, I wasn’t ready to admit that I was THAT sick. I took off my clothes and climbed back into bed.

It would be another six hours before I finally decided that it was in fact time to go to the hospital.