This past Sunday I woke to find the ICU with tubes down my throat, monitors awkwardly taped to my hairy chest and a lot of my friends and my wife all hovering around me asking me how I was feeling. I had no idea what was happening. I had some kind of psychadelic reaction to the drugs. Everybody appeared to have round, orange complexions and black hair. I later learned I had a massive heart attack last Wednesday and I was dead for 20 minutes before they brought me back at the hospital. They used some kind of freezing technique to keep me alive and the seizures to a minimum. I don't remember anything that happened. From what I was told, I passed out at the movies and again at home and was then rushed to the hospital. I had three stints put in and I was out for six days. Now for the good ending. I'm sure I'll be home by he weekend. I've lost a lot of weight and I'm having to relearn how to walk again. But I should achieve a full recovery.