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Three weeks ago today, at the age of 54, I had a heart attack. 

It was the scariest thing ever!  I called my best friend Bev.  She is a retired cardiac nurse.  She talked me through the whole thing.  Chew aspirin.  I had to call the neighbors for aspirin.  Call 911.  "Damn it, Bev, you know I have no insurance and if I don't work I don't get paid.  I think it is those panic attacks, but this seems pretty intense."  

"No, Pam, this sounds more serious than that.  CALL 911!!!   If you're dead, you don't need a job.  Call me right back".    The neighbors stayed with me.  I went through the whole thing.  I broke into the drenching sweat.  The shortness of breath was getting to where I couldn't talk very much.  I had to hand over the cell phone to Charlotte, one of my neighbors to keep Bev informed and answer questions for me. There was an elephant sitting on my chest.  The numbness down the left arm started.   I kept thinking, this is just not good.  This is just not good.

   I live about 30 miles from a very well respected cardiac hospital, Charleston Area Medical Center, Charleston, WV.  (CAMC)   During that squad ride I was given more aspirin, four shots of nitro under my tongue, the morphine bag was hanging, paddles at the ready and the second and third elephants had climbed on with their buddy who started this mess.  The last text from Bev I received before arriving at the hospital was "put me on your hippa, i love you". 

I remained awake throughout the entire thing.  I arrived at the ER...there was my brother who works nearby.  Bev had called him.  "We have all of your information, Ms. Simpkins."  Bev had me registered over the phone from 900 miles away.  Did I mention she is in Charleston, South Carolina.  Right city, wrong state!   We have been best friends since we met at 4-H camp when I was 9 and she was 10.  She knows me and my family medical history and she knew what to do to expidite things.   

She was managing my heart attack from 900 miles and several states away. 

As my brother told me I was in the best place I could be, a voice was saying "we're taking her to emergency heart catherization.  If that is not successful, she will go immediately to open heart bypass."  I couldn't breathe well enough to talk much...but I did tell them, Bev Rardin...#1HIPPA. 

And she continued that for the next 6 days while I was hospitalized.  It was the next best thing to her sitting in the chair beside my bed.  Anyone that came through the door got to talk to Bev on my cell phone.  She was a push of a speed-dial button away, night and day.  She called the floor nurses when I was resting.  She monitored my vitals, my  "numbers", what meds and how much.  Then she educated me.  She put it all in English and reassured me that I am going to be fine and she will not let me become a "cardiac cripple".  She explained the EKGs, ECHOs, all the tests.  I felt very informed at the time, but actually don't remember all  the details.  And now three weeks later she is still re-explaining what some of the termanology means, etc. 

Looking back, the outcome would have been the same, but a hell of a lot harder to have gone through without her.   She helped save my life just as much as the neighbors that brought aspirin, the squad guys, and the surgeon and nurses .  

Everyone should be so lucky to have a Bev in their life.