On April 17, 2008 I got up to a beautiful spring day. The sky was clear and the sun was bright. There was a light breeze and low humidity, rare for Florida, but it was spring.
I had a cup of coffee out by the pool then cleaned the coffee pot, made my bed, checked my emails, the usual stuff one does when waiting to go back to work.
My Dr. had released me to go back to work on on April 21, so I wanted to get some things done that wouldn't get done once I went back to work.
I wanted to sweep the pool and pick up the limbs that had blown into the yard. Then I had the drive way to sweep, and various other chores.
It was getting close to noon, so I thought I would stop and have a turkey sandwich. But I wanted to get the trash can from the front and carry it to the back to put clippings in.
I had gotten around to the front of the house. Something hit me square in the chest. I couldn't catch my breath, and the pain was unbearable.
I knew exactly what it was. But it was so much worse. I took my keys out of my pocket and got in the truck and started to drive to the ER.
The pain was so severe, I knew I wouldn't make it. So I backed the truck back into drive way and called 911.
In the last post I said that I would not call 911. Well I didn't count on the fact that God puts in every one an instinct for survival.
As I called 911 I went down rolling on the grown holding my chest wanting the pain to stop. The operator remained on the line until I heard the ambulance. I crawled to the street where we put the garbage. I was fortunate not to encounter one of Florida's nastiest creatures, the fire ant.
Now, I have a dog named Abby. One of the sweetest, smartest dogs I've every had. I believe dogs sense things. She crawled with me to the street and layed down beside me and nudge me with her nose, and gave me kisses. Abby always barks when big trucks come down the road. Fed Ex, UPS, even ambulances. My neighbors have called 911 several times for their mothers. Abby has always barked. This was an exception. I'm sure she was confused, but she ignored the ambulance and stayed right by my side.As the EMTs put me on a stretcher Abby stayed right there. One of the guys hooked up the EKG and the other took blood pressure gave me aspirin, and nitro. A female EMT went into my house and noted all the medications I was on. Abby is not fond of strangers coming in the house. But her only concern was her master.
As the ambulance prepared to leave, the doors were closed and Abby tried to jump in. I heard him say no stay. She obeyed.
My wife said when she got home, Abby was laying by my truck. This was unusual. Even though she has her doggy door, Abby is a house dog and rarely goes out side unless we are outside.
Dogs are mans best friend. My Abby's heart was troubled.
3 comments:
Compelling stuff, O'Shay. I hope you find it therapeutic writing about this, because its a story that needs to be shared and your doing a great job describing your thoughts, feelings and emotions.
Your last post about you writing letters to all of us, is why real life is always better than fiction.
And by the way, I don't want to see my letter for at least 40 years or more, if you get my drift.
Of course you probably said something like, "Ron, put the keyboard down and walk away, I'm dead and so is your writing."
The greatest dagger is always the last.
Long live O'shay
Ric, this in indeed compelling stuff. I can sense your passion in your writing. I'm glad you made the call. I can't wait to read more. Dogs are amazing that's something Ron wouldn't know about.
Write more soon.
runrandall
This is really unbelievable. I’m playing the role of a supporting brother, giving love and encouragement, just minding my own business. Even though Randall took a shot at me a few posts ago, I basically ignored the comment about hating to concur with me when I gave a dead on opinion about a post O'Shea made.
I guess your confidence was flying higher than Barney Fife after Andy gave him a second bullet, so you thought you’d take a second shot at a brother who harbored no ill will.
You know I find it funny and somewhat sad that you boys play these games on your own blogs. If there were a ounce of intestinal fortitude between the both of you maybe you guys could bring your comments over to the big boy blog (It’s in big letters at the top of this comment) But no, you hide and take pot shots, hoping I won’t read them.
Randall, your mamma should have told you, “If you’re gonna mess with the bull, you’ll eventually find the horns.”
Well son, you’ve found the horns. Your careless behavior brought you in the crosshairs of a dangerous man who’s ready to take you to the verbal woodshed.
To me, dogs bring no more emotion than a potted plant; of course my potted plant doesn’t poop on the carpet and look the fool sticking its head out the window of a traveling car.
Because of wacko dog owners we live in a confused state, I’ll explain. A four-legged idiot walks around sniffing while the two-legged imbecile waits for droppings, then when the deposit is made, usually on my lawn, the two-legged simpleton scoops up the poop from the four-legged dolt. However, the two-legged doofus is so proud of the four-legged half-wits body function, in his excitement; he leaves half the excrement on my lawn. Now I ask you, who’s the master?
A dog barks and the owner runs to let him outside…. Who’s the master?
A dog whines and the owner puts food in his bowl…. Who’s the master?
The owner bathes the dog….who’s the master?
The owner rubs the dog’s belly… who’s the master?
At least the Asians understand whose boss.
I may have missed it, but when’s the last time a dog read a book? Never, dogs can’t read! Remember the smartest dog in the world is still a dog.
That story O'Shea told about his dog was cute, but until Abby calls 911 and drives O'Shea to the hospital I’m not impressed.
You probably fall under the category that believes dogs are mans best friend. Well if my best friend drank out of the toilet I must be running with the wrong crowd.
When’s the last time you scooted your rear-end across the carpet? Don’t answer that, it’s rhetorical.
It’s a proven fact most dog owners have a Napoleon complex. They have a desire to be superior to something. A dog compensates whatever shortcomings fester in a deranged manic mind. Dog owners minds are so out of touch with reality, they actually dress up their dogs in people clothes (or a scarf). Do you really think you’re fooling anyone? It’s a dog for crying out loud!
I’ve always heard, dogs have cleaner mouths than humans. Here’s a little test for you, follow that mutt you call a dog around for a day, and stick your nose and tongue everywhere your best friend does…I mean everywhere. (Careful she might bite)
This ludicrous notion that one year is equal to seven in dog years is the fuzziest math of all time. I guess day old bread is really 6 month old bread, makes about as much sense, which is nonsense.
You a little wobbly yet? You know everything I wrote is true. Once again your alligator mouth got your humming bird fanny in trouble.
I regret our parents didn’t have a fourth boy. Maybe he’d been up to the challenge, because shooting fish in a barrel is starting to get stale… like 6 month old bread.
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