Eric Has a Lesson To Tell

A couple of weeks ago I heard that Eric had a “heart attack”. Really, I said at the Monrovia bicycle shop as we prepared to go on a regular Sunday morning ride with the group that gathers there. Eric I know was this fit 40 something guy that rode hard and looked to be in good shape. Hearing that he had suffered a heart attack was certainly suprising. I am so glad to hear that he is doing well and returning to us. Here is his communication recounting his trial and hope for the future. Be well Eric and I will look for you at the bicycle ride in a month or so.

Dear Friends,

So by now I am sure you have heard the news. I had a heart attack! I just got home from the hospital and it’s been a long four days of tasteless food, needles, no sleep and enough poking and prodding to make a proctologist shutter. Let me start from the beginning.

So there I was, relaxing in Hawaii with my good friends Garnett and Fred from Vancouver. They invited me to join them for a few days of relaxation with their families. Apparently they thought I was stressed out and could use a few days on a warm, sunny beach. (As it turns out, I’m the only person in the world who can go to Hawaii to relax and instead have a heart attack!) So on Monday night, after a relaxing day by the pool we all went out for a nice dinner. After dinner we went back to our hotel and went to sleep. I woke up at 4:00 am and headed straight for the bathroom. As good as dinner was, it was not sitting well. After a few hours of praying to the porcelain god I mustered up enough energy to crawl back to bed and go back to sleep, all the while thinking I had food poisoning. Oh how wrong I was.

I spent the next day, Tuesday, in bed. I was tired, short of breath and I had a tight feeling in my chest. I assumed the tight feeling was a result of the massive amounts of throwing up I had done earlier. (I know what you are all saying, duh Eric, tightness in your chest, that should have been a red flag! Well Mr. and Mrs. Know-it-all’s, hindsight is always 20/20, isn’t it?) So I enjoyed my remaining 2 days in beautiful Hawaii curled up in the fetal position, hating life. My friends begged me to stay and see a doctor in Hawaii instead of flying home to LA especially because there was now pain in my right arm. They tried to tell me that if something happened to me while I was flying home over the Pacific Ocean that I was pretty much out of luck unless there was a doctor on board. So I got on the plane and braved the six hour flight home. When I got back to Los Angeles I was completely exhausted. I couldn’t even walk up the one flight of stairs that leads to my house without having to sit down and take a break. I was starting to wonder if I really had food poisoning or maybe it was something else.

The next morning I took a shower, had breakfast and went to work. I called one of my best friends, Tommy Dyo (an EMT) and told him how I felt, he told me that if I didn’t go to the emergency room that he would physically drag me there. My employees then took the initiative and forced me to go. All the while, I was on the phone with the nurses at Kaiser Hospital who were telling me to come to the emergency room immediately, chest pain was no laughing matter. Then at about 12:30 pm, Christine, my girlfriend, took me to the emergency room where I was immediately admitted, apparently chest pain was no laughing matter.

Upon my admission to Kaiser at Baldwin Park, I was immediately put on an IV, given an aspirin and a nitroglycerine patch. This is standard procedure for anyone who comes into the emergency room complaining of chest pain. The nurses hooked me up to an EKG machine and took blood. The EKG came back normal but the blood test showed otherwise. The nurses told me that one of the things they tested my blood for was the enzyme troponin. Troponin is an enzyme that is only present in the blood when there is damage done to the heart tissue. In a normal person there is a troponin level of .05, my troponin level was 11.34. In short, I had a heart attack. I was in shock and in disbelief. There was no way I had a heart attack. How could I? I was healthy, I ate well and I exercised regularly. I was not a candidate for a heart attack.

I was then introduced to my emergency room doctor, Dr. Lee #1. Let me take a break from explaining the time line of events during my hospital stay to point out the ethnic makeup of hospital workers everywhere. During my 4 day stay in two different hospitals, I noticed a strange trend, all of my doctors were Chinese, all of my doctors were named Dr. Lee and they all had Chinese New Year plans. As it turns out, it is the year of the dog and I was their little bitch! There was a similar phenomenon (or conspiracy??) with the nursing staff. Every single one of my nurses was Filipino. You know that section on a job application that asks for your ethnicity? For a nursing application there should only be two choices, Filipino or other. In four days I did not see one white, black or Hispanic nurse, only Filipino. Coincidence? Anyway, Dr. Lee #1 and I became very close, very fast. Before he would administer blood thinners he had to stick his finger up my butt, truth be told, it did not feel so bad! But did he really have to do it three more times? I think he owes me dinner and drinks.

After Dr. Lee #1 became thoroughly familiar with my insides, I was transferred from the emergency room to my permanent room on the fourth floor. Here I was introduced to my nurse (yes, she was Filipino) and my 4th floor doctor, Dr. Lee #2. My nurse showed me how to use the TV, which didn’t have cable, how to call her if I needed her and gave me my thermos. I looked at the thermos and told her I was not thirsty. She politely informed me that I was not supposed to drink out of it, I was supposed to pee in it. Confused, I told her that I would have no problem using the bathroom that was only 3 feet from my bed. Again she told me that I had to use the thermos because she collects the urine. Sarcastically I replied, “That’s cool, I collected stamps.” She didn’t understand my joke, maybe it’s because she’s Filipino.

Following the Angioplasty I was taken back to the Angio preparation area where I was asked to sign numerous forms by more Filipino nurses. After I had signed my life and the hospital’s liability away, I was taken to my room where I would spend the night under the watchful eye of more Filipino nurses. I was taken to the floor of the hospital where they kept the people who were older than dirt. My roommate told me he and Moses went to grade school together. I was by far the youngest patient on the floor. To keep the blood flowing the nurses encouraged us to walk around every once in a while. Imagine 20 or more 80+ year olds shuffling their feet through the hallway hanging from IV poles with their naked butts sticking out of their hospital gowns. It reminded me of a scene from “Dawn of the Dead.”

Later that night one of my Filipino nurses came in to check on the incision near my groin where the Angioplasty was done. It became obvious to the nurse that the medication was wearing off because I had a huge erection under the sheets. She lifted up sheets and said, “Someone must be feeling better!” She returned 30 seconds later because she realized she forgot to check my incision. We both laughed and I went to sleep.

The next morning I woke up with the face of Steve Van Doren staring back at me. I was very glad to see him, truth be told, I was just glad I wasn’t staring into the face of St. Peter! Steve made me laugh all morning until Christine came to rescue me from the hell that was the “Kaiser on Sunset Older Than Dirt Ward.” They were more than willing to release me, but not until I spent my life savings on a three month supply of medication. At this point in time I would like to make a public service announcement. To all men (and possibly women) who are excessively hairy: Please realize that the sensors used for the EKG machine, the tape used for IV’s and any other adhesive material the nurses may feel the need to stick to your hairy body, are made with industrial strength glue. And I won’t lie to you; it hurts like hell when they remove them. For your sake, when the nurse asks you if you would like to be shaved in the places the stickers are going, for goodness sake, say yes! Picture this, me, the hairiest person in the world, covered with super glue strength stickers and the doctor tells me it’s time to go home. I was very excited until I realized that the stickers had to come off. It was like a scene from “The 40 Year Old Virgin.” There I was, lying in bed having these stickers torn off of me one by one as I watched all of my hair being torn off too. This was by far the worst part of my hospital stay.

After we left the hospital I had a hankering for food, nothing in particular, just anything that wasn’t apple juice in a plastic cup or powdered eggs. So Christine and I made a beeline for Wahoo’s Fish Tacos and I ate until my heart was content. There you have it folks, I, Eric Elkaim, a healthy 42-year old male with no blood pressure or cholesterol problems, had a heart attack.

At this point, I would like to thank my friends and family who showered me with love and care during my time in the hospital. The love came in the form of phone calls, letters, flowers, soup and personal visits. I especially want to thank my Mom, my Sister, Tommy and Melissa Dyo, Rick Kitamura, Marc Middleman, Mark Ferrari, Christine Medaglia, the crew at PartyWorks (Jordan, Juan, Freeze, Ob1 and Darian) and all the hospital and support staff at Kaiser.

Peace and Love,

Eric

P.S. To all the 40+ year old men and women reading this letter, please take the time to make an appointment with a cardiologist today. The appointment will only take an hour and it may possibly save your life. Trust me; your family will thank you.