text: It's always sunny in Philadelphia - News - Salina Journal - Salina, KS
  Oct 7, 2018 at 12:54 PM Oct 7, 2018 at 12:54 PM
  When life is going pretty well, and our personal skies are bright and sunny, most people take good health for granted. Not until we have an irritating ache or pain do we actually question the condition of our minds and bodies.
  Feeling good? Then, it follows — life is good!
  Everything flips upside down when we stub our little toe on an immovable kitchen stool. The smallest of digits assumes a prominence that rivals everything we hold sacred and dear. Such pain can be excruciating, and that little toe is just about all we can think about for days.
  I'm blessed with good health. Pretty much all my life, I've lived under sunny skies. Yes, even in Philadelphia.
  My doctor says the lab results from my annual physical would be the envy of someone half my years. I have low blood pressure and although I could stand to lose (ahem) "a few" pounds, I'm in darn good shape. Running and working out contributes to that.
  This column being my weekly confessional, I wrote recently about an episode of vertigo that gave me a good scare. That happens when your field of vision gets out of whack … when everything you see is spinning around like a carousel off its tracks.
  The sky overhead quickly darkened. I was afraid my vertigo was a symptom of something far more serious. When something out of the ordinary invades our perfect little worlds, we are prone to jump to worst-case scenarios.
  Fortunately, without medication or treatment, my vertigo has reduced to levels that are hardly noticeable. When I lie down or get up quickly, I have a short sensation of spinning that ends in a few seconds. Perfectly normal stuff.
  Nothing more than light-headedness associated with getting older. And believe me — I'm definitely getting older.
  Meanwhile, you know that old cliché? The more things change, the more they stay the same? Once again, dark clouds have invaded my personal sunshine. This time, it isn't vertigo.
  In the past few months, I have experienced episodes that defy description but are accompanied with excruciating and intense pain. It's something like a muscular seizure inside my chest cavity.
  A heart attack has been ruled out, but the symptoms are similar. I'm literally bent over, gasping for breath, and drooling like baby. Not very pretty. Within minutes, blood pressure skyrockets and my scalp is dripping wet with perspiration.
  I'm unable to move … reduced to a pile of human rubble.
  There are two small silver linings. First, the episodes usually only occur about once every 4-6 weeks. Secondly, the duration of each episode is mercifully short — they last only last about 10 minutes, after which the pain recedes.
  Despite the trauma, within minutes, I'm back to normal and feeling OK. Weird, huh?
  It's difficult to diagnosis something so random and unpredictable that exits out the back door as quickly as it entered the front. My doctor is mystified. Nothing adds up.
  Last week, everything changed. I had two intense episodes back to back, within hours of each other. My physician insisted I go to the hospital immediately.
  One test came back abnormal, suggesting a blood clot or arterial blockage. I was given immediate priority status for an angiogram to find the source.
  Hallelujah! Finally! I just knew the angiogram would solve the puzzle, allowing for a treatment plan.
  Alas, it wasn't so. My arteries were clear — no blood clots or blockage. The test proved to be a "false positive."
  Well, dang! It's nice not having dangerous clots floating around, but extremely disappointing that we're back to Square One. Without one clue as to the source.
  I'm a little bummed, but not complaining. Apart from the usually rare episodes, I feel great. One every six weeks isn't a big deal, and the episodes are over almost as quickly as they arrive. All of which makes me a living, breathing enigma.
  So, what's the plan, Stan? I'm guessing I'll have more tests to eliminate possibilities. Two episodes in a row suggests something is amiss. But what?
  It's the "not knowing" that's difficult. Even with a poor diagnosis, at least you know how to treat the monster in your closet.
  Hey, it could be worse. I ain't dead yet. There are millions of people "worser."
  It may be somewhat cloudy in Philadelphia, but the Eagles are winning; and rumors of my demise are greatly exaggerated. In the words of the electric James Brown, "I feel good … I feel good."