About a year ago, I was standing in the cool, air-conditioned house, looking out the window at my wife mowing and weed-eating the lawn, when it occurred to me that she might need a break. I asked her if she wanted to go hunt a cache. She readily agreed to go. I made her take a shower first, and then we were off for the hunt.

We were about half a mile from the park where we were destined when I heard her make a weird sound. I looked over at her and she had a funny look on her face. Not funny like she had her fingers in her ears, sticking her tongue out at me, but funny like she had just bit into a lemon. I asked her if everything was all right, and she shook her head no. I asked what was wrong and she said her hands and feet were numb.

As we pulled into the parking lot of the park we were looking for, I looked back at her again and noticed she was breathing hard and clenching her fist. So, I asked her if she were up to the cache hunt. She started crying at this point and said no. The GPSr was pointing about 400 yards straight ahead and I was anxious to get going. My wife, however, was still sitting there gasping for air, so I couldn’t leave her (I do have some compassion).

At this point, I started to figure out that all was not well in paradise. It just so happened that a deputy sheriff was there in the parking lot so I waved him over and asked him to call an ambulance. While we were waiting on the ambulance, he asked me what we were doing there. I started explaining geocaching to him and he was quite interested. I offered to take him to the cache, but he thought it was a bad idea to leave my wife. I’ll have to agree with that; she was looking kinda bad and gasping for air like a fish out of water.

A few minutes later, the ambulance showed up so I guess it was good that we'd hung around. The paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, asked a bunch of questions, and told me to follow them to the hospital. The GPSr was still pointing me toward the cache, but I followed them to the hospital anyway.

When we got to the hospital, the medical staff began a series of tests on her. The first was an EKG. I asked how long that would take and they said 15 minutes. Darn! I needed at least an hour to get back to the cache. The EKG turned out fine. So, now they decided to run an ultra sound. How long will that take? 20 minutes. Foiled again. That test was okay, too, so now they wanted a cat scan. How long will that take? About an hour or so. Perfect! I kissed her goodbye and wished her luck as they wheeled her off.

I gave them 10 minutes in case something went wrong and then I headed for the door. Have you ever noticed how every hallway in a hospital looks the same? I’m running up this hallway and down that hallway, and can’t find my way out. After 45 minutes of this, I’m out of breath and in a state of panic. I just want to get out! I finally figure out where the exit is and start down the hall. Who do I meet coming up the hall? My wife, of course.

"Where you going?"
"Just looking for you. I was worried about you." (no cache today)

It turns out that my wife had an anxiety attack. She is fine. Healthy as a horse. I have yet to log that cache, but I swear, one day I’ll go back!