When I left you two weeks ago I was in the emergency room at Valley Hospital in Ridgewood, N.J. I was more than a little annoyed about being there when I learned that the doctor in charge had decided not to release me.

She was to speak to me about it as soon as she was free. What minor thing would she hold me on, I wondered. I'd just sign myself out. Her first words to me convinced me otherwise. “You have fluid in your right lung.” That was a first for me.

Suddenly my neighbor, Pete, became a hero to me instead of an annoyance. If he hadn't convinced me to go to the E.R. who knows what might have happened. Once the fluid had dissipated, after many hours, and I will pan the idea of explaining how that happened, I was transferred to a bed on the third floor where I had been just the week before to get a pacemaker implanted.

I got to reconnect with my favorite nurse's aide, Kelly Kerr from Jamaica, who I convinced to have her picture taken with my cell phone by another nurse. I wasn't allowed to walk around yet. It was Kelly's cheerfulness that was her most attractive feature. She always seemed to be in a good mood. She was also quick and efficient, going beyond her true sense of duty. My room mate and I were constantly remarking about the good care we were getting from the entire staff.

Another nurse's aide who always appeared just when you needed him most was Henry Roy. They will both be getting a copy of this column. The day after I was admitted to a room on that floor, a cardiologist informed me that I had had a heart attack. I was completely floored.

When I asked what degree it was he said that they would know after I went for a chemical stress test. While waiting for the test a few days later, I found myself toe to toe on a stretcher in the hall with a man who was the same age as I am.

He had an episode at church on the Sunday before and this was Tuesday. He told me that he and his wife had both been married before. When I asked what his first wife had died of he told me “Tight shoes. She ran away.” I said that it was good to be joking like this because it kept us from worrying about the test. He told me, “I'm not worried about the test. I'm TERRIFIED.”

The next day I heard the word I had been waiting for which was MILD. Although they couldn't tell the time the heart attack had happened, they knew it was on February 14th so my heart partially broke on Valentine's Day.

When I got home I wanted to thank Pete for possibly helping to save my life. I was glad I called instead of texting him because when I said I knew how to get a bunch of good looking young guys to come to my bedroom. Just call 911. It was good to hear him laugh.