As I lay on the hospital gurney listening to the whirring and humming of the CT Scan as it's taking pictures of my abdomen and chest area, I am thinking. "Things aren't so bad, they're taking their time. There's no hustle and bustle about me. I must have over reacted, there's nothing wrong with me."

Well, your personal thoughts, without a medical background, can only lead you to a temporary comfort zone when the news is broken to you.

My wife has shown up by now and is talking with the E.R. doctor. As I don't see any worry in my wife's face, I'm still thinking all is ok. At this point, I've already convinced myself that at worst case I made need a stint or two to clear some artery blockage or even better yet, nothing happened, and I'd be on my way home.

The E.R. doctor comes over to me on the gurney and lets me know they are going to check me in to the hospital. Now here is where things went blank or blurry for me. Because I don't recall listening much more to what they did or did not find wrong with me. I mostly remember smiling at my wife and telling her not to worry.

As my wife tells it, things were bad, very bad. The doctor's had discovered that I had just experienced an "Arterial Disconnect" or "Arterial Dissection" and that I required emergency surgery ASAP! Just so you have an idea of how severe this is, this is the same thing that killed actor John Ritter of Three's Company fame, "may he rest in peace".

Next thing I recall is the doctor telling us that there weren't any available beds in the hospital and that I would have to be life-flighted to another hospital downtown. All I could think was, "Cool, I get to ride in a helicopter!" The kid in me always gets the best of me.

Then they prepared me for the ride of a lifetime, wrapped me in some warm blankets, made sure I was secured and loaded me up through the back doors below the helicopter's rear boom. The flight was great, I was able to view Houston from a vantage point that most will never see. We landed on the roof of the hospital, and I was off-loaded and wheeled to the elevator.

What they neglected to tell me is the pathway was near the buildings edge, and looking over it, was a long way down to the ground. I rolled my eyes and just said, "Please don't drop me." The elevator took me straight down to the operating suites where the O.R. staff was waiting my arrival. Everything was so white, so bright, the room was chilled and the equipment I was about to be connected to was all working. The last thing I remember was the anesthesiologist adding the medicine to my IV and me saying, "Oh, it's kicking in...."