I moved into a new apartment in September of 2008. Almost exactly a month later I was on the subway on the way to work when I started having difficulty breathing. By the time I got off the train and up the stairs I knew I was in trouble. I made it about halfway down the block and had to rest against the wall of a building before I could go on. As soon as I got to the office, I called Hatzolah Volunteer Ambulance Service. They came, carried me out on a gurney and took me to St. Lukes/Roosevelt. I'd say that you should never go there, but it doesn't exist anymore so it's kind of a moot point. They gave me antibiotics for a few days and sent me home. Next week I had to call Hatzolah from the office again. Nothing breaks up your work day like a nice trip to the hospital. This time they took me to NYU. Again I was out in a few days. And this was a real hospital.
In retrospect I guess the connection between the new apartment and the shortness of breath should have been apparent at the time, but it wasn't. The bottom line is that there seems to be a consensus in the medical community that my new digs contributed to making me sick.
Oops. It's been pointed out to me (thanks, Ruthie) that Roosevelt/St. Lukes hasn't closed. That was St. Vincent's. Leave it to an old yeshiva boy to get his saints mixed up!
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