My Published Articles for ViewsHound: A Near Panic Attack on our AC Unit Conking Out

Thursday, June 11, 2015

A Near Panic Attack on our AC Unit Conking Out

I had a near panic attack the other day. This was the first time I called 911 for assistance ( WE HAVE RESIDED here in the US since 1960) for a non-emergency situation. I think I had a near panic attack since I can not remember any telephone numbers to call. My eyes were blurry, and my hands were shaking. To add aggravation to the situation, my computer was acting up and responding very slowly. My wife sensed my situation inspite of her PD and urged me just to calm down and relax. It worked!

This is how it happened as I remember it. It was 7:30PM and the temperature outside was 104F. This was the first three digit temperature in our area this year. Suddenly I heard our air conditioning stopped blowing cold air. I check the thermostat and it was 85F. I normally set the temperature around 79F and for the last 4 days our air con was working very well.

I looked outside our window and I could still hear the air con running and humming but no cold air is blowing into the house. I know there was something wrong so I turned the AC off.

I immediately looked into my files for the heating and cooling brochure of the company where we purchased our Heating unit a few months ago. I remember that if we purchase an air con unit from them in the the next 6 months we will get a $500 rebate. When I checked the drawer where the heating files was suppose to be, the folder was gone. I panic a little bit because I completely forgot the name of the Heating and Cooling company.

So I went to my computer and goggled heating and cooling emergency services in our area. My computer was slow so I got irritated. I did find several cooling companies servicing in our area. I started calling four companies. All I got were messages to leave a message. I did left a message to the four air conditioning service company.

By this time the temperature was reaching 86F. We have electric fans, but It was getting hot. I sarted to panic so decided to call 411 for information on companies that had 24-hour emergency services. I was finally able to reach one company and the guy informed me that all their technicians are busy and the earliest time they can come will be the next day in the afternoon.

Finally, I found the brochure of the heating company. I called them and I was told that my message will be relayed to their technician and wait for their response. When? No one knows!

I was getting panicky and thirsty. I drunk a glass of water. I decided to call 911. The phone rung about 8 times and after the 9th ring I heard the question, What is your emergency?

I answered that this is not a life or death emergency, but I need assistance to find someone who could looked at my air con unit as soon as possible. The emergency responder told me she will connect me to the 411 directory. Before she hanged up, she asked me If I needed an ambulance. I said NO!

Speaking of ambulance services, I had my first ambulance service experience about 2 weeks ago. I had documented this experience in my article titled Ten Hours in the Emergemcy Room. At that time I was not sure if My Federal insurance will cover it. Today I received my Explanation of Benefits. The bill had a total of $4,600. Lucky me my copay was only $100. Thank you my Federal Insurance Company.

The next day, a cooling representative inspected my air con unit. He changed the capacitor and the system worked. My total bill was only $274. I was so happy we decided to celebrate and went out for dinner and a little Casino Gambling. When we left the house the air con was working.

When we arrive in the house 4 hour later, the house was hot and the air con was not working. It was 8:30PM but I decided to call the cooling representative and he said he will inspect our unit again the next day.

He was here the other day. He checked the the unit and the problem was the compressor. The unit works, but it gets over heated and it turns off. Recommendation: I need a new unit. Cost will vary from $3000 to 4800. Since I am not very rich, I decided to order the cheapest unit which has still a 5 year warranty. The unit will be installed tomorrow just in time for another 3-digit temperature in our area.

Our AC unit was over 10 years old. I did expect it to conked out and this expense was no surprise at all.

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Guest Article from Susan Creamer Joy

In The Silence, by Susan Creamer Joy.

Today's guest article is from Susan Creamer Joy. Susan is one of my favorite authors in the ViewsHound community. Susan writes, draws, paints and cobbles together art from found objects making a variety of creations from jewelry to religious shrines. She frequently sports burns on her fingers from her soldering iron, paint on her palms and ink under her fingernails, but her hair is usually combed. When she is not losing time in the creative vortex of her studio, she is likely to be putting her knowledge of metaphysics and esoteric principles including Tarot, numerology, astrology and graphology to good use in consultations. Her children are grown, her husband still works and her four dogs believe she needs serious help. The title of her article is "A Matter Of Love And Death". Thank you Susan.

By the time they reached my bedroom door, I was already sitting up – my stomach ratcheted in the tense grip of an unnamed anxiety; my pillow, unburdened of my drowsy head.

To this day I cannot explain how I heard them coming up those stairs in their bare feet or how I knew that my father struggled to hold his composure as my mother unnaturally clutched at the folds of her dressing gown and followed him through the dark just a little too closely.

As the wooden groan of those old stairs tore into my bones that morning like a hacksaw, all I could see between the predawn shadows was the letter I’d written just hours earlier to my boyfriend, Chris, propped against the lamp on my desk across the room awaiting an envelope.

I had not slept well. It was late November and there had been so many changes since the middle of August when he left for the Air Force in Texas to begin basic training and I began my third new school in as many years.

The conspiracy between fate and the last surge of the Vietnam draft had broken apart the every-waking-minutes of our two-year union with unceremonious indifference. All that night my sleep had been infested by difficult dreams and by the illogical fear that truth and reality were merging into a darkness only a martyr could grasp; and at sixteen, martyrdom seemed reasonable only for the nuns among the poor in Bangladesh

I tried to remind myself that he would be home on leave for Thanksgiving in another few days. It was the only tether to calm I could find, but reviewing the facts offered little relief from my baseless fears.

Chris had been girding his pacifist sensibilities preparing to fight in an unpopular war that had not yet slaughtered its last innocent. I was hovering just over the line of inclusion at an exclusive girl’s school – missing him – and finding myself at odds with these young women and their attachment to propriety and with the prep-school veneer that blinded them to the fact that they were no better than anyone else.

Neither one of us was coping well with the worlds into which we were respectively summoned, and although we both knew that the best hope for any future together depended upon our individual successes apart, it was far from comforting most days.

But in spite of our discomfort, we each did our best; and, of course, there were the letters: Thin, plain-paper sheets with row after row after row of inky blue words penned with the intensity and awkward locutions of a love learned too soon. It had come down to just that little, but without them, I would have had nothing.

Chris was learning to fly. I was learning to drive, and both of us were aching to transport our souls to an earlier time through the hallowed intercourse of memories and dreams. Of course, as with all progress, there was the positive element: We were both clean and drug-free for the first time in years.

Now, without pretense, both healthy cognition and sincere motivation surfaced regularly in my psychology and prompted me to care about myself and to arbitrate against all temptation for a better standing in the world, in school and in my own eyes. I even did my homework.

No longer was I escaping today but, instead, living for my day of escape. Lying still in the dark of my room, I listened to the slow, padded footfall of my parents approaching and looked to the floor and to my history book half hidden beneath the nightstand where I’d tossed it the night before. Even in this early morning dark I could make out the swirls and stars in colored marker and the bubble-formed letters that spelled C H R I S in soft, juvenile curves on the torn book cover I’d fashioned out of a brown paper grocery bag.

I vaguely remembered throwing it there somewhat hastily. I had been doing my homework when a sense of urgency struck and I realized I had not written him as I promised I would and glancing at the clock, I noted it was nine-twenty-three. Why that mattered I had no way of knowing in that strange moment, but within hours, it would be one I would never forget; and although I was becoming drowsy and still needed to finish my work, I felt beyond reason that my letter to him could not wait.

So, I wrote. I would always write. I would always be there. He would always be there.“Suzi."It was my name spoken in the smooth and familiar voice of my mother, although weighted and slow, her head bowed to her chest almost as though she were speaking only to herself.

"Suzi.” She said it again, this time with sharp gravity, like a chisel against stone.

As if on cue, I leaned forward, flanked now by my parents who were sitting on either side of my bed.

I had been waiting for them. I don’t know how. I didn’t know why. The lights in my room remained off, but it seemed that the darkness clung more to them than to me, as though they were holding it there – away from me to give me enough light to see through the next moment. They were crying. My father was crying. My father. “Suzi. We have something very, very bad to tell you." Chris has been in a car accident." And he was killed."

If the world moved forward from that moment, I could not know it. f there were air around me worth breathing, I could not take it in. And if there were another sound beyond the leaden bellow of my own raw grief, I could not hear it.

"Who am I going to talk to? Who am I going to love?” I wailed. Who will love me? In that sodden moment violated by the intrusion of a predawn light that had no business rising, everything I ever believed about happiness, hoped for in life, trusted in or held as my own was annihilated.

After that – there was no after that. After that came months of hollow redundancies that would inform my way of being in the world for years to come. A serial commitment to waking up each morning, remembering he was gone and dedicating the remaining hours to forgetting. To that end I would try anything, drink anything, ingest anything, inject anything. It was a slow and arbitrary suicide by indifference.

Many years later, at 25 years-old and in the midst of a pharmaceutical free-fall leaning dangerously close to terminal, I discovered that I was expecting a child, and after a decade of forgetting, I remembered. I named him Griffin after the legendary winged lion, a symbol of the divine because what he inspired and the miracle that he was, were nothing less. I remembered and I loved again, and I went on to marry and to the gift of two beautiful daughters.

Today my son is struggling not to drown in the same well of drug abuse and apathy that almost swallowed me – his great, divine wings clipped by his own hand; and while it is up to him to restore his place in the sky, I will do my best to help provide an open runway.

In the meantime, I will continue soaring for both of us; bequeathed as I have been, with a determination to fly from a boy whose ragged fate precluded that dream.

Death took one young man from me once upon a dark time. If it has any intention of coming for this one, it will have to go through me. And trust me, it will be in for one hell of a fight.

Note: If you enjoy this article, please let me know.

Thursday, June 11, 2015

A Near Panic Attack on our AC Unit Conking Out

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