The Friday night before the 2019 Thanksgiving week, I drove the five-minute ride to our local hospital’s emergency room with my husband—as he was in and out of pain along his rib cage from the xiphoid process of his sternum outward. He’d had an annual about mid-August 2019 and as protocol for a routine physical—he was to have an endoscopy early December 2019. It was scheduled for the extension of that routine examination done in August. My husband always had good health, healthy habits for the most part. He was healthier than most Americans. He was not on any medication as of then, at age sixty-three years old. We rarely went out to eat. He drank plenty of water, he was well within his weight with his height of 5’10” at about 165lbs. He ran four to six days a week, did pushups, sit-ups, lifted weights at home when there was no landscaping to be done by him for our home. He was a high school teacher and was on his feet most of the workday. He’d built a chin-up bar in our backyard and ...
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