It was the thud heard ’round the newsroom.

Around 1:15 p.m. on Dec. 7, with some pretzel lodged in my throat, I fainted and fell backward, smacking my head on the carpet-covered cement floor.

I came to after several seconds, felt the back of my head and discovered a grapefruit-sized lump, also realizing that my fingers and arms were tingling.

There was a gentleman kneeling next to me and I could hear a lot of commotion in the background - concerned co-workers who feared the worst.

As did I.

It didn’t help their concern either that I was coughing up the remnants of that pretzel to clear my airway.

At moments like that your mind goes to the worst-case scenario. After I knew I wasn’t going to die, my mind jumped to paralysis. When the tingling stopped, I returned to some sense of rationality, but not much.

My mind raced from I need to know if Marta (Gouger, the editor) is nearby, to I don’t want my kids to know, to do I need to call my significant other, to who is going to put out the Opinion page to who is going to train Billy (O’Gurek) and Denny (McLaughlin) on the new obit system the next day - I knew I was headed to the ER before my co-workers even called 911.

It’s hard to describe what it’s like laying on a floor waiting for an ambulance to arrive, seeing the look of concern and worry on people’s faces. But I can say, at a certain level, it’s comforting. To know that people - some who I hardly know because I started at the Times News just four months ago and work remote a lot - are there for you goes a long way toward relieving the fear you have at that moment.

I called my significant other, who got in touch with my children. My daughter sprang into action, setting up a group chat so that everyone in my family would get the latest information.

My ride in the ambulance was a firsthand look at the cool and preparedness of EMS personnel. I didn’t panic because they were treating this like a ride out to Beltzville for an afternoon picnic, except they were efficiently running tests, sticking me with things and bantering with me about my present state.

I found out later that the lead EMS person was Bob Miller, the Carbon County coroner.

If Bob is as good with the dead as he is with the living, he’s a great coroner.

During my 30-hour stay at St. Luke’s-Carbon, the staff couldn’t have been of higher quality. The doctors, the nurses, support staff, all them, outstanding. I have always had the utmost respect for health care workers mainly because of two surgeries for ulcerative colitis in the late 1970s that saved my life.

It pained me during the pandemic when health care workers and officials were seen by some as villains. I guarantee you that health care workers at St. Luke’s-Carbon are top notch.

While in the hospital on Dec. 8, several co-workers texted me to see how was doing, including a woman (Ellen Good) I had never met in person and only talked to once - that was 75 minutes before I fainted - when I was training her over the phone on the new obit system. And I would be remiss not to mention that longtime TN reporter Terry Ahner reached out to me. A die-hard New York Mets fan, Terry knows all about pain.

When Marta told me on Thursday night after I got home that many co-workers had inquired about how I was doing, I’ll be honest, I welled up.

But this isn’t all a rah-rah column. As a columnist, it’s my job to take people to task when it warrants.

In this case, there is one person who needs to be called out.

And that’s me.

For years, I have had trouble swallowing food at times, with it getting stuck and causing me to gag and at times throw up. I ignored it, or made excuses when it happened in front of loved ones.

And, despite the fact that I work out every day, I started noticing a few months ago that my heart raced at times. I checked it out on the internet and it said it was because I was dehydrated, so I just drank more water.

It wasn’t until Bob Miller hooked me to an EKG in the ambulance that he informed me I had signs of atrial flutter - a cousin of atrial fibrillation. Last year I walked more than 4,000 miles (I wear a Fitbit) so I was stunned to learn that I might have a heart problem. ... And truth be told, still somewhat in denial days later.

But the A-flutter was pretty much confirmed at the hospital, so now I am heading toward appointments to find out what is going on with my esophagus and heart.

But here’s where I chastise myself.

If I had heeded those warnings earlier, maybe I would not have put my family, friends and the health care system through this trauma and disrupted lives - I can’t drive until the cardiologist clears me.

I’m sure there are readers out there thinking one of two things: 1. I’m not going to let my significant other ignore warning signs any longer, and you shouldn’t; 2. This hits home and I need to take action before something like this happens to me.

In journalism, there’s something called the Rule of 3.

And usually people think in threes.

The three things I’ve been grateful for over the years have always been: Family, friends and good health.

Right now, it’s: Family, friends and great health care.