Well shit.

The phone rang, and I saw it was a Nevada number so I answered it. Some woman said 'Are you Laura? Are you here at the hospital with Gary?'

WHAT ???? HOSPITAL ????

After she asked me some more questions about insurance (that I don't remember & I didn't answer), I said "You need to stop asking me questions and tell me what's going on." Well, really, I yelled it, just in case my phone wasn't sending out a strong volume.

She said "I'll transfer you to the nurse." and then we were cut off. I didn't even know what hospital it was. Thank goodness for Caller ID because I was able to call the displayed number and get through to that woman again.

I asked her what hospital it was, in case we got cut off again. With the HIPPA act, I don't know if calling a hospital in Las Vegas from out of state they would even tell me they had a patient by that name.

So they put himself on the phone. Well, of course, by this time all kinds of car accidents and who knows what have played out in my head.

I could hear in his voice that he's gone through something, but to tell you the truth, we so seldom talk on the phone, I don't have much of a reference point.

He said: 'I had another one of those spells where I black out and throw up. It happened right after bowling so of course they called an ambulance and brought me to the hospital. I must have hit my head pretty hard because they did a CT scan, and today they are testing my heart, but I don't think it's my heart.'

Do you know the first thing I asked him? 'Joo-eat yet?' (say it out loud)

'They just now brought me some food. It's been 24 hours since I ate anything.'

So I asked him: 'How come they are calling me about your insurance if you're able to talk to me now? Why don't they just ask you? And ask someone there why nobody notified me last night that you are in the hospital.'

'I don't know,' he said. 'I have my insurance card here. I didn't think they were going to admit me - they did it last night at midnight, and I don't know where my cell phone is. But don't worry, I'm fine.'

Oh, sure. I won't worry. I'll just go back to working on the taxes.

I told him I'm glad he was out in public when he had the event, so someone could help him, and pictured the alternative: him lying out in the back yard, out of sight of the street, dead, with Chitty the Neighborhood Cat keeping his corpse company.