Really, was it any surprise when the chest spasms seized her somewhere on the lonely road between Page and Kaibeto? She straightened her posture, took a few measured breaths, felt no constriction and slackened not her pace.

She had been under a lot of stress for the past few days. Leaving a job. Packing a Subaru to the gills. Traveling 260 miles. Return. Repeat. And then of course, the last straw when the Subaru, fully loaded complete with car top carrier, coughed and died and left her renting a U-haul truck and repacking her final load. Nonetheless, repack she did.

She slept and got a fresh start the next morning; showered, pulled on her skinny Levis and flannel shirt so as to look respectable when returning her condo key; sallied forth in a 15-foot truck.

Again a spasm hit and she reflected for a moment on being 65. She had now out-lived her grandmother by 5 months – the maternal grandmother who succumbed to heart disease at 65. She took stock of her vitals again as she continued to drive. No difficulty breathing. No pain in the left shoulder or arm. Refreshing, deep breaths.

She ate an apple – that will keep the doctor away – and wondered if she should be eating anything at all given the spasms. Should you eat before a massive coronary? If you gotta go, massive and instant would be the way to go.

Six more times a contraction hit, a bit like Braxton Hicks, strong enough to make her involuntarily say, “ouch,” and suck in her breath.

Somewhere outside of Shonto she reached down and flipped the latch on her web belt, released the button on her 711s, and relaxed the zipper by two inches.

She hasn’t had a chest spasm since. Denim corsets, who knew?