The Dashing Chronicles: Dirk. Has a Heart. Apparently.
- Winston McLean | October 27, 2014
On the morning of September 3, something incredible happened.
I had a heart attack.
The Dirkster has a heart? And it was attacked? Why, yes, smartass, he has and it was. And it could be the best thing that ever happened to me, next to my babies and grandbabies, and the extraordinary women I got to meet on this fabulous journey, of course.
When the doctor informed me what was happening, as it was happening, a part of me went all calm inside.
I thanked the Creator for having blessed me with a fantastic life, even the rough bits. Of course I told him, “Y’know, I don’t think I’m quite done loving yet. Y’know that, right?”
Having said that, I put myself in a meditative state and made myself ready to meet my maker.
Apparently the Creator wasn’t quite ready for the ordeal of meeting me yet because I found myself punted back downstairs.
The crew at the hospital did their part, too. Upon staggering into the emergency room, a doctor sprang into action and I was hustled into a room with a small platoon of doctors and nurses, plus several machines...one of which went “Ping” every now and then.
An hour and a half later, I found myself in a recovery room blinking at the ceiling, thinking “Holy crap, now THAT was interesting!” I was awake the entire time, even for the surgery.
So I thanked the Creator, of course, and the crew at the hospital. But I also thanked myself, which some people may find an odd and arrogant thing to do.
Some context might help: I’ve always known of my families’ history with heart disease. So, sixyears ago, I joined a gym. In part, I wanted to lose the flab around my gut, make myself attractive to the ladies, and perform better in the sack. I also wanted to stave off what might be the inevitable.
It is ironic that my heart attack started at the gym. But only a moron would conclude that the gym caused the attack. Get a trainer and know your limits and you’ll be fine, and you’ll get more action from your woman along the way, too.
Going to the gym all these years is what improved my chances.
What else helped? At the time, I hadn’t a clue what was happening. I thought I was having a sudden, hellish cold - fire was burning across my chest and up my throat, the sweat almost raining off my skin. I got off the treadmill, showered and was on my way home to guzzle a bottle of cough syrup!
A little voice nagged. And my car somehow veered to the hospital instead of my apartment downtown. I don’t recall making that decision but I reckon I was being steered away from a dreadful and tragic course of action. Cough syrup. Really?
Three days later, as I checked out of the hospital, the head nurse remarked to a handful of student nurses, “Now this patient is just truly remarkable.” Of course, I had to reply, “I see my exes have been bragging about me again.” Titters and giggles filled the room.
So, I had several things going for me, and to say that I am grateful is an understatement that borders on the absurd.
Prior to the attack I had been learning, on my own and with Dirk’s Board of Guv’nuhs, about men, our vision and our missions, about what our women want from us, need from us. But I was stalled. Settling for second best in my own life, and feeling the hypocrite.
It's clear Life had grabbed me by the short and curlies and said, “Listen up!” - though why Life would grab me there and ask me to listen up has me wondering if Life needs a lesson or two about the male anatomy and how the lads really work.
The doctors have cleared me. Not to resume my life, that would be a mistake. But to make sure the next dozen or so chapters are exceptional. Stay tuned. We’re going to have a blast.
Dirk says, When she asked, are you ready to be tortured in a way only a woman can torture a man? I said, yes. She ate half my chips.