Heart Attack Series 2 of 2. Read First Story Here.
4:28 am: The Hospital
We park in the ER lot. We don our masks and walk to the door in the cold, pre-dawn morning. I hold Stacey’s arm in her puffy green coat. Her whole body is trembling. This is bad.
5 paces in: the Check-in desk. As casually as a conversation about the weather, Stacey is asked her reason for the visit. She nods. I tell the woman her signs of a pre-heart attack. She writes it down on a ledger, types something, and looks back up. Could this woman move any slower?
Check-in Attendant (to Stacey, my wife of 5 years): Just follow the arrows on the floor to the right.
Check-in Attendant (to me): Ma’am, you need to leave. We have your number. We will call you with updates.
I release Stacey’s trembling hand. I watch her take four steps and turn to the right. Then, she is gone. My heart catches in my throat as I stare at a blank wall. What if that is the last time I see her?
My heart dreads to move. I drag my feet to the left, out the sliding door, and across the small parking lot to my car. Damned Covid.
For the next ten minutes, I sit in cold silence. She could have collapsed right after I left, and I wouldn’t even know. I can’t cry. I can’t write. I can’t listen to the NPR replay of All Things Considered. The only thing I do is obsessively refresh my text chat with Stacey. Nothing. Okay, enough worry. Time to move.
And time to let the dogs out; they’re probably keeping the kids up. I need a bathroom, anyway. Stupid nerves attached to my digestive tract.
4:50 am: Go Time
I pull in the driveway and hear howling through my window. Sometimes, I do not like being a dog owner. I open the front door and catch another kind of movement in the corner of my eye. Jonathan is staring at me. Shaking his hooded head, mumbling.
Jonathan: Mom, I’m so confused.
Mom: It’s okay, sweetheart. I’m home, and the dogs will be quiet. You can go back to bed now.
(hug)
Time to help the dogs. I divest my outers. Pocket my phone. In case. Release Elvis from his crate. Herd him downstairs for the litter box. I’m sure he’s pooping outside the box in retribution. Olive has graduated to barking. I move to let her out. She spins around me like a pull-cord top. Man, she is crazy. Definitely need to do some anxiety training after this is over. After a minute, she is calm enough to follow me outside. Elvis follows her closely. He never misses a chance to smell his favorite smell.
I grab the big-enough-for-a-golden-retriever dog bed, and they both follow me into the bedroom. They pass out ying-and-yang-style. I check my phone. Nothing.
I lay on my bed with my feet, still in shoes, hanging off the side. I’m like a Minute Man. I triple-check the sound is on my phone. I rub my stinging eyes.
My phone buzzes. My heart pounds.
TEXTED CONVO:
Stacey: Just stay home. It might be awhile.
Me: How are you feeling?
Stacey: Shaking, but ok.
Me: Did they see you yet?
Stacey: Yes, a bunch of people tested me. Waiting for results now.
Me: So they were concerned?
Stacey: Anytime someone says those things they are concerned 😉 You should get some sleep.
Me: Ok. I feel like you are in good hands. And the crazy dogs are asleep. xoxoixxoixo
Me: Do you have clean underwear on?
Stacey: Yes. ?
6:13am: Thanking God
Stacey, back to a normal shade of human, and I pull in the driveway. She was released; the doctors could find nothing wrong. The “here’s-your-gigantic-medical-bill-for-nothing” pill is gonna be tough to swallow.
We plod in, herd dogs, and pass out.
7:45am: I’m Barely Conscious
I need coffee.
As I’m getting the water heated, Jonathan shuffles in the kitchen. Hoodie still firmly up, plaid pajama bottoms on his long teenage legs.
Jonathan: What happened?
Me: Well, a lot. How about we get you some Panera today so you can stay awake?
Jonathan: Really? Yum! (insert slurping noise) Wake me up early anytime. Or not.
After a couple of minutes, Jonathan, Stacey, and I settle on the couch with coffee and dogs. Barbara skips into the living room and jumps on the couch next to Stacey.
Barbara: Are you okay? Why did you go to the hospital?
Me (stunned, in my best Darth Vader voice): Wow, Barbara. Your 13-year-old process of deduction while unconscious is most impressive.
Me (continuing, with less energy): Anyway, yep, Stacey is fine. Well, she didn’t have a heart attack, anyway. So, to celebrate your step-mom being alive, we were thinking Panera. Nothing quite like bagels and cream cheese! You in?
Barbara: Yea!!! I’m gonna have toast now then Panera for lunch!
Toast, man. What can’t it do?
Stacey: So, it all started…
I looked around to see the three most important people in my life. All smiling faces.
God, I am grateful for my wife and her love. And coffee. So grateful for that.
With love, light, and laughter,
Heidi Esther, your MomSanity Bear
PS In case you were wondering, the title of this set of stories was inspired by Brandi Carlile’s The Eye.
PPS And if you still haven’t read the first part, try it out. Also comes with toast!
POEM: alchemy
I am human, tree, water, air. I no longer break to your wind, drown to your wave, die a thousand cuts to your sarcasm. I no longer shrink to your worth, swallow your hook, become your pain. I am alchemist drowning to compassion, broken to embrace, glass to sand, death to love.
Mom-munity Builder
In one Harry Potter movie, there’s a very striking scene. Master wizard Dumbledore faces a thousand glass shards hurling at him. From a spell from his arch-nemesis. With a casual wave of his wand, Dumbledore turns the shards to sand. BOOM.
Dumbledore transforms the deadly hurt into an actual beach. Know what that is? Alchemy. This is what happened to me during my night with Stacey. Turning my life into love. Becoming love. Much bigger than Mom Jeans. Crazy, right?
Maybe not. Maybe life is practice for this spell, this alchemy, this love. It felt like life all contributed something: Crying while writing poems. Fighting for sole legal custody. Taking responsibility and recovering from my codependency. Accepting my peculiar, big-feeling soul.
It was all practice for this moment where I could have been paralyzed at the prospect of my wife dying. Instead, I was love. I met everything with a calm serenity. (Well, except for the yelling at the dogs to not throw poo everywhere 😉 )
FEELER PROMPT: What is one thing that you can do today to meet your life with more acceptance? With more love for your unique, beautiful soul? To get you closer to dancing in the eye?
FUN PROMPT: Have you ever found random “gifts” from your pets in your house? How do you meet your pets when that happens? Do you think how you respond to your pets is similar to how you meet yourself when shit happens? How can you bring more compassion to (both of) you in those moments?
