Middle Age, Franks Bad Day Options

[Arnfinn]

It was my birthday I should have been happy, instead my shoulders sagged as I walked up the path. Jenny opened the door as I inserted my key.
'Happy birthday darling.' She enthused,smiling radiantly.
Her smile faded instantly.
'Frank what's the matter you look terrible?'
I shook my head miserably.
'It's Wally, he's dead ... heart attack,it was sudden, he was gone by the time the ambulance arrived.'
Jenny's hand flew to her mouth.
'Oh No!'
Awkwardly, I continued.
'His wife rang the office early this morning, I got such a shock, it was awful, I was dumbfounded. I didn't know what to say to her?'
I absently made my way to my easy chair. Deep in thought I sat down, I couldn't believe it, Wally was at least a couple of years younger than me ...  kaput, his life snuffed out in the early hours of Sunday morning. We had been roughly the same height and weight; about 175 cm tall and 95 kg__ then again ... he was probably about 5 kilo's heavier than me. My mind wandered to the previous week. Wally had been 'off colour, and complained of tightness in his chest, shortness of breath, and pains in his arms and shoulders. However, on the Friday he was happy and cheerful, convinced that a virus had been responsible for the days he'd been sick.
I thought ... little did he know in a few days he'd be dead.
It happened on Wednsday, about lunchtime. I was seated at my desk eyes glued intently on the computer screen, fully engrossed in a work assignment, when I felt a discomfort in my feet. I lent down and felt my ankles... they were swollen. My heart began to pound. I was choking...pain nagged at the nape of my neck and shoulder blades. I hurried to the mens room.
A glance in the mirror was enough...
Oh my god!
My face was bright red!
I could hear hysterical breathing echoing noisily in my ears. Droplets of sweat ran down my brow, stinging my eyes,then dripped like silent raindrops to the floor below. Back in the office, fumbling fingers pushed buttons on the telephone handset.
My voice was strained my hands shook.
' I would like to see the doctor.'
Some thirty minutes later I was seated in Dr. Morgan's consulting room. Dr Morgan, head down was scanning my medical history file. He eventually raised his head, and said.
' I haven't seen you for some time Frank.... You look terribly upset.  What can I do for you?'
The tone of his voice was professional, and friendly. The next five minutes I outlined the stark details of the ordeal I had endured just prior to my lunch break. He thought for a moment, raised his body slightly, placed his left elbow on the desk, cupped his face in his hand, looked directly into my anxious eyes and said.
'And how do you feel now?'
I thought briefly:
' Somewhat better, but I can still feel a lump and tightness in my throat and my heart's pounding in my ears.'
He rose from behind the desk, walked over to the examination table.
'Ok, strip to the waist?'
He bent forward and began to examine the upper part of my body. He unfolded his stethoscope, leaned over, and placed the instrument at various positions on my torso, each time pausing briefly to listen closely to my heartbeat. He straightened, drew up a chair, and sat down beside me.
'Frank, your heart's going a bit fast perhaps, but it's got a good steady beat ... it sounds fine.'
I sat up, and stared disbelievingly at him.
'But the swollen ankles, the pounding heart, the sweating, the aches and pains.'
He gazed at my flabby overweight body...
'Frank your middle-aged, and out of condition. From what you've told me, you've been tensed - up, sitting rigidly in front of a computer for three hours. With your weight ... that's all that's needed to cut off the circulation to your lower extremities and make your ankles swell.
'All very well' I replied.'That doesn't explain the lump in my throat, the hot flushes and shortness of breath.'
He looked at my shirt beside him on the chair and felt the material.
'Nice shirt!' He said with a faint smile flickering across his face.
'It's new I got it for my birthday... It's Italian.'
He pulled the shirt out and placed it on his knees flattened it out and checked the details on the collar.
GIONANNI MORELLI
MILANO
He sat back in his chair stroked his chin and said.
'What size shirt do you wear Frank'
'Size 44.'
He gave a chuckle and said.
'Frank the size on this collar is '42!'

Arnfinn  

[Guest_Kathy_*]

I enjoyed your story, John. That's the sort of thing that can happen to any of us when faced by the death of someone close, so it assonated. And amused. I empathised too, but I'm too tired to make any decently helpful comments.

See you later!

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