10 February 2021 I have told a lot of this story on Facebook. But while Facebook does keep the information it's kind of awkward to access old stories except when they choose to remind you of your old memories. So I'm gonna tell it one more time here in MY record book, adding some more details. I hope you like reading, if you don't you may want to skip this album. There are only a few photos but lot's of text. It tells the story of my medical emergency and recovery during the pandemic year of 2021. But my emergency was not caused by the virus. February 10 started off perfectly normal. I was having my morning coffee just as I normally do. Suddenly I felt a strange pain in my chest. I sometimes have aches and pains around my shoulders, collar bone etc. This one wasn't even really that severe it was just different from pains I had felt before. I began to debate whether I should just wait and see what happened or go someplace to get it checked out. After several minutes of back and forth on this issue I finally decided reluctantly, "I guess I better just do it". I drove myself to a local Urgent Care center and announced there that I had chest pains. They put me to the front of the line. I figured they would do a quick enzyme test, or something like that, to see if there was any heart issue then either escalate or send me on my way. I don't think they did any enzyme test, but they did escalate and called an ambulance to take me to a hospital. They asked me which hospital I wanted to go to, I had no idea. Well, we went to one of them and they did a bunch of tests including some sort of scans (MRI or CAT I'm not sure) and a stress test. I was a little apprehensive about walking on a treadmill. Was a good idea at this moment? But I did as they asked. When I mentioned this to the surgeon much later, he chuckled and said something like, "Yeah, That might not have worked out so well". Finally, after a good deal of testing a doc came up to me and said "We figured out what is wrong with you". "Finally some answers", I thought. But my sense of relief was short lived because the next thing he said was, "You have a dissection of the Aorta". I really didn't know what that was, but whatever it was, it didn't sound so good. I soon overheard them discussing my case. "Dr. Ball at the Gwinnett County branch is accepting new patients", I heard them say, "but traffic gets heavy this time of day, maybe we should use the helicopter?". A doc later told me that 70 percent of those who develop this condition never even make it to the hospital. During the short time while I was waiting my thoughts went to what would happen if this was it. I wasn't worried so much for myself, but there were a few important things that I didn't have in order, mostly how my retirement fund would be distributed if I were to disappear today. I remember looking at my phone and wondering if I could make some last minute changes. Totally impractical in the few minuets I had. So I just had to resign myself to the fact that there was simply no time to do anything about any of that. I have since gotten them into much better order It took a week or two. Now I just need to keep it that way. I do remember the helicopter ride, my first. I was kinda wondering if I would get to experience the landing as well. I do remember the landing. The funny thing is, as I was waiting for them to come and carry me out my memory fades. I had a distinct sensation, it was as if a curtain were coming down. Yet I later found out that I was not, in fact, losing consciousness at that time. The surgeon, Dr. Ball, told me later that they brought me in and we had a conversation before the surgery, I wish I could remember it. He used the phrase "Preternaturally Calm" to describe me at the time, and I'm sure I was. After all, what's the worst that could happen? I wasn't in a great deal of pain and it seemed that this surgery would either work, or not work. If this were the end, it would be a pretty easy way to go, neither painful nor lingering. But where did that "curtain falling" sensation come from? I THOUGHT I knew my memory was fading in the moment. I even remember trying to hold on to my consciousness in that very moment. Yet nothing of the sort could haveactually happened, my memory must have been erased at a later time by the drugs used for anesthesia. It makes me wonder... where, or when, does consciousness actually exist, in the moment, or does it actually happen after the moment, as a memory? I can recall two other times I had anesthesia. There was a colonoscopy. The last thing I remember was watching the nurse push the drug into the IV as he said "Goodbye!". I tried to "hold out" as long as I could but I was gone before the plunger was all the way down. Another more interesting time was going in for gall bladder surgery. My memory fades out as they begin to wheel me toward what must have been the operating room but, I presume, way before I actually got there. They had given me a shot of something before I started rolling but I wondered later if I had actually gone out at that moment or if I had remained conscious for a while, perhaps talking with the staff and the doctor in the operating room. Could it have been only my ability to remember that had ceased. After this experience I think it was the latter. I'm not sure how long it was until I slowly became aware of my surrounding again but I was not surprised to be in intensive care. It's blurry. At some point a head nurse (or maybe she was a doctor) asked me if I knew where I was. There was a banner or something on the wall about Northside Hospital, so that's what I said. I got that one right. I got the date wrong when she asked but I was close. I suppose they were just checking to see if my brain had survived that marathon surgery. Short of a heart transplant, it's one of the biggest most elaborate they do. I was able to talk to my brother by phone fairly early on, although I hardly remember it. I know he was greatly relived to speak with me whether or not I was making much sense. It wasn't until 6 days after the surgery that I felt restless enough to take a picture of myself. I could not turn well enough to get a good look at the monitors behind me but I was a bit curious so I to tried to take pictures of them, but they were blurry and I could make no sense out of it. The first picture I took of myself in the hospital has a date stamp of Feb 16, 2021.