When the emergency no longer generates adrenalin surges for me, hyperventilating, or panic attacks, you know that it has become all too familiar a pattern. Just doing what I've done before.

Ho hum, here we go again. Back to the emergency room, security guard, bright lights, other people groaning in pain or struggling for breath, hubby himself slumped over, barely able to sit up, needing help to swing legs up onto bed, unable to undress himself.

Concerned, careful nurses, doctors asking questions, probling, looking listening. (Interns halfway through their internship now really acting like doctors and no longer startled at being addressed as, "Doctor".)

I'm assisting my husband to undress, pulling him up on the bed, giving him sips of water, changing his gown when it's soiled, bringing him back to reality when he starts to imagine things. Yup, been there done that before, no longer so scary any more. (I even know where the supplies are.)

EKG, oxygen, temp, pulse, finger sensor for blood oxygenation levels.

Nurse inserts IV (can't get it on right side, have to switch to left arm), muscle dystonia, shaking badly, weak, disoriented. The usual symptoms. The young doctor a bit dismayed at my casual aspect, so I tell him this is what? third time? fourth time? same scenario, same symptoms, they'll do a GI and still won't be able to find the bleeder. Doctor is so earnest and wants to get it right, assuring us that they will do everything they can.

I'm sure they will try, but the human body continues to confound even the smartest experts.