Word: attacked
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...viciousness of the military response hardened attitudes. "Damn this country!" muttered a student as he tied a wet towel around his face to ward off the tear gas. One distraught resident asked bitterly, "If the military is so brave, why don't they fight other countries--why do they attack the people?" And while the police and the army were booed and pelted with debris, the crowd cheered the arrival of the marines--who had fraternized with protesters who forced out Suharto in May--thus prompting wild visions of civil war. On Saturday, as thousands of protesters headed...
...paragraph, a sensation like poisoned gas began to wraith around inside my chest--a sick green glow, the lightly radioactive foretaste of something awful. Then a vise beneath my breastbone tightened...and tightened...and tightened, a slow-motion black implosion of the body's core. I had a heart attack. Quite a surprise...
Thus, 22 years ago, began my cardiac education, which--with another heart attack in 1993 and with the reappearance last spring of the radioactive symptoms--is well along in its postgraduate phase. I share this with you (as they say in group) because the history of my heart's misadventures happens, luckily for me, to parallel the story of the late 20th century's medical advances in the treatment of heart disease. And because at the American Heart Association's meeting last week in Dallas, still more remarkable new treatments were auditioned. I have enjoyed, so far, an existential scissors...
...angioplasty failed painfully), and a supporting cast of ACE inhibitors, beta blockers, cholesterol thwarters, diuretics, aspirin to make the platelets slippery, nitroglycerine, blood-pressure suppressants, vitamin E, folic acid, a rowing machine, a stoic personality and the diet of a desert mystic. It goes without saying that a heart attack is also a good way to quit smoking. I was instantly cured of nicotine addiction that night in Kansas City...
Everyone with heart disease knows that if you survive a first attack, life becomes a long, complex negotiation with the menace--the killer in black pajamas who has come to live in the basement. You hear him down there. Sometimes he climbs the stairs and beats on the kitchen door. You feed him sublingual pellets of nitro and tell him to settle down...