(The Heart Attack Series, 1 of 2. Second Story coming March 10!)
A story, from Barbara
It’s the middle of the night. So, I’m sleeping, right? Minding my own business. Snuggled high in my Ikea loft bed under my Wiener-dog blanket and the crocheted one Stacey made me. She’s my step-mom. I’m thirteen years old. And I’m wearing my striped pajama pants with Christmas chihuahuas if you must know.
That’s when I woke up. From the scratching. What the heck? Like someone’s clawing at my window. I’m not scared; I’m the family member who picks up bugs and puts them back outside. Alive. So, I open my curtains.
I can see outside because of the front yard light. There’s Mom. Scraping ice off her windshield. Warming up the car. I look at my clock and it’s 4:11 am. What the heck?
I’m going back to bed. Chimes ring on the front door. Maybe one of the dogs is sick. There’s whining. And, there’s a bark. Both dogs are still home.
I hear Mom pulling away. She must be okay. But someone else isn’t. I need some sleep. I have to work on my graphic design project for science today.
4 hours later, 8:06am
I wake up. There are voices in the living room. Mom must be back.
A story, from Jonathan
Damned dogs going apeshit. My white noise of rain and my Dohm are on full blast. And I can still hear them. What is their problem?
I look at my phone. It’s 4:13 am. Don’t they know that 14-year-olds who have soccer practice need sleep? And, I have a geometry midterm today. I put two pillows over my head. I wonder why my other pillows aren’t blocking my door?
4:51 am: Yes, I am still awake. I hear the front door chimes. The dogs are finally quiet. I’m so confused.
I drag myself out of my nice, warm bed in my nice, dark room, and open my door. There better be a good explanation for this.
Every light in the house is on. I throw my hoodie over my head ‘cause: I’m blinded. I step into the hallway and I see Mom walking toward me, from the living room. She has a coat on?
Me: Mom, I’m so confused.
Mom: It’s okay, sweetheart. You can go back to bed now. The dogs will be quiet.
Me: Ok.
5:54 am: Dogs going ape-shit again. My day is ruined.
6:13 am: Door chimes, again? Maybe Mom went for a walk.
7:50am: I wake up. I hear Mom talking. Time to listen in.
A story, from Heidi (a.k.a Mom)
2:35 am
Through the thin floral curtains, the light of our front lamppost casts a dim glow in our small bedroom. A faint white noise of crickets plays through the JBL. I’m snug under my floral ivory quilt, a heated throw, and a 70’s charlie-brown style crocheted blanket. That’s when it started.
Stacey (putting her hand on my shoulder): Sweetheart, (coughing fit) What is it when you have hot acid in your throat?
Me (groggy): Oh, burn. Heartburn.
Stacey: Yep, that’s it. Maybe from dinner. Do we have anything that could help?
My wife sounds awake. Weird.
Me (groggy): Pepto. Pink tablets. Medicine cabinet. Toast.
(back asleep)
3:44 am
Stacey (patting my shoulder): Hey, Heidi? I feel really weird.
Oh no, she used my real name. Something’s wrong.
Me (groggy): Did you have some toast?
Stacey: No.
Me (becoming more awake): Want me to make you some?
Stacey: No, I feel like I’m gonna throw up.
Me: What did we have for dinner?
In the darkness, Stacey flies to the bathroom. And she’s in daytime sweats? I turn up the crickets to give her privacy.
I roll over and turn on the fairy lights. Stacey comes back and uses the bedposts like walking sticks to make her way around. The color of her face is off. I sit up and put my arm around her shoulder.
Me: You feel better? I can get you some toast now.
Stacey: No. And no thank you.
Me: What’s going on?
Stacey: I feel dizzy, and my arm and neck really hurt. I’m coughing more than usual (obviously). I’m still nauseous with that heartburn feeling. Gotta go.
Stacey runs back into the bathroom. My heart pounds in my throat. This isn’t good. I grab my phone.
(INTERNET SEARCH: common pre-stroke symptoms.)
Okay, she doesn’t fit that bill. Whew.
(INTERNET SEARCH: woman heart attack symptoms)
Stacey has 14 of the 15. Breathe. Okay, Heidi, you can help Stacey through this. You are a strong partner. And you are awake enough.
I assemble an outfit from floor clothes + new underwear. If there’s one thing my Mom taught me, it’s to always have clean underwear on. Because you never know when you’ll get in an accident.
I knock on the door to the bathroom, and wait for a lull.
Me: Sweetheart? We need to go.
Stacey: What about the cost? We don’t know how much it will be.
Me: This is what our savings is for.
Stacey comes out of the bathroom. I finally have a good look at her face in real light. A pale yellowish-green. Yikes.
4:01 am
I gently open Jonathan’s bedroom door, navigate the floor to sit on his bed. Why does he always pack pillows under his door? Why does it smell like last week’s broccoli and cheese soup and vanilla in here?
Me: Sweetheart?
Jonathan: (groaning)
Me: Sweetheart, I have to go with Stacey. Be back soon. Are you awake?
Jonathan: (groaning) Yea.
Me: Sweetie, if the dogs get too loud, let them out of their crates. And tell your sister if she wakes up.
Jonathan: Ok.
Hmmm. I have no idea if he got that.
I pack water, a granola bar, a book, and my journal. That should last me. As I leave the house to warm up the car, two sets of wide canine eyes look at me from their crates. A low whimper starts. Super.
Me (to the dogs in a hushed yell): Hey! Be quiet! Your sister and brother are sleeping! And please don’t fling poo!
Stacey and I rehash the financial discussion on the way to the hospital. No way in hell am I turning around.
Come back on March 10, 2021, for the second installment of the Heart Attack Series!
POEM: Daily Affirmations
I am loveable.
I am loved.
I am loving.
It is good to be me.
I have joy in my heart.
I bring joy to the world.
I’m helping make this world a better place.
I am good.
I am kind.
I deserve good things.
I am worthy.
I am strong.
I am gentle.
I know how to empathize with the deep pain that comes up on the human journey.
I have faith.
I am here.
I am now.
I am me, and I am glad.
Mom-munity Builder
If this situation happened ten years ago, I would have melted down. Hardcore can’t-tie-my-shoes-cause-I’m-in-a-puddle-why-is-this-happening-to-me meltdown. Hell, until a few years ago, even seeing a bee made me scream and run away.
You know what’s scarier than life? What you can catastrophize in your head. Here’s what I do instead:
- I still give worry a few minutes, then I tell it “time’s up”.
- I sit and feel my hurt, shame, or sadness. I “see” it. It’s part of me, so I welcome it to my experience. But, it’s not the boss of how I react.
- I breathe and meditate to feel calm. Sometimes other feelings come up.
- I accept my situation. I bypass the suffering sirens and say, “God doesn’t give me anything I can’t handle.”
- So, next, I think about how I show up best at this moment.
- I remind myself of my positive qualities. With affirmations.
Now, I show up stronger, more flexible, more everything. And if I fail. I do it all over again. No crappy self-talk allowed.
PROMPT: What affirmations resonate with you? Can you pick two and say them to yourself every day for the next week? Then, email me at ho***@he*********.com and let me know how you feel.
