AGEING IN A FOREIGN COUNTRY
When You’re Not Sure If It’s A Heart Attack. . .
Or a false alarm
The title for this piece could have been, Be Careful What You Wish For. A week ago, I wrote an essay lamenting (tongue slightly in cheek) the sameness of everyday life — one pleasant, but indistinguishable, day blending into the next. I wasn’t complaining, I do prefer tranquillity to chaos, but I was just struck by the similarity.
Three days ago I had a distinguishable day of the unwelcome sort. It started in a familiar enough way — my partner brought home a small round pain du curcuma et noisettes (turmeric bread with hazelnuts) from a new boulangerie he’d discovered. It was so delicious, that I had to talk myself out of a second slice. It even made the coffee taste especially good, so I had another cup.
An hour or so later, sitting at the desk writing, I felt a dull sensation in my chest — indigestion, I was fairly certain. The bread and extra coffee. Time passed and the discomfort increased, although not alarmingly so. After thirty minutes, I could still feel it as I walked up to the village pharmacy to drop off a couple of prescriptions,
The sensation — not pain, just a dull, heaviness, became more pronounced as I walked. Then, halfway up a small hill, my neck and shoulder started…
