Hi, yeah, alcoholic, whatever. So I had
an awesome experience yesterday…and
by “awesome” I mean I had a heart attack
on the shitter. I was taking a piss when
my chest got all tight, like my ribs
had turned into a trash compactor
and my lungs were due to be cubed
into airless hunks of waste. So I fell
on my knees, fly down and schlong out,
and I hunched over the toilet until
that wave of WHAT THE FUCK passed.
Sure, I’ve had my head in the toilet before,
but not when it was half-full of my own
When I called 911, the EMTs
checked my blood pressure, my pulse, my pupils.
They asked if I was on anything. When told them
“No, that’s the problem, fucking cold turkey,” I swear,
the fat one rolled his eyes. The two of them traded
the same look I give my baristas when there’s
a diva in the shop. They asked about pain in my arm,
if this had happened to me before, and when I said no
to both, they packed up, said it was a panic attack. Said
to take it easy, then dashed off in their minivan ambulance.
Panic attack my ass. Like taking a leak
is so stressful.
Man, don’t get started
with that DT bullshit. This was cardiac arrest.
End of story. My dad died of a heart attack
at 39. It’s in my genes. If those guys stayed
for more than five minutes, I could’ve told them
there’s a family history of this shit. I’m just saying,
if my heart taps out and I drop dead sober,
I’m gonna be fucking furious. Yes,
even when I’m dead. Yes, I’d rather
die drunk. What kinda question is that?