It starts like any other day; a family begins their day with their normal routine, going about their business, passing each other with little to say. The days have gone by without much excitement, nothing new. When the phone rings and Mom leisurely answers, no one really notices. But then someone picks up on her eerie silence as she listens, sees the color wash from her face. Dad got sick at work and is in the hospital. Come right away.
With a matter-of-factness in her voice, she tells the children to get ready and come with her. The children are grown now, and can pick up on the quavering in her voice and the worried set of her brow. Everyone gets into their respective cars and the caravan drives to the hospital just a few minutes away.
They walk briskly to Emergency together and find a lady at the desk. My husband is here, he got sick at work. Mom gives his name. The nice lady's face becomes slightly drawn as she goes to check. You can tell she already knows, but wants to be sure. Not even a minute later the lady returns, more in control, and says, "Someone will be with you in just a moment to tell you how he is. In the meantime, why don't you come sit in this little room here while you wait?"
You've heard of this room. The Quiet Room, where they take families to tell them someone is dead. After the door gently closes, Mom starts to let the tears slowly fall. "You know it's not good when they take you to your own room." You notice a phone and boxes of Kleenex on every table. For some reason you will remember that forever. A tall lady with a compassionate smile walks in. For the past few minutes you have lived for that smile. Is everyone here family?, she asks. Yes; wife, daughter, son. An older daughter lives farther south, shall we call her? You should, the lady answers. Dad has had a heart attack. He is alive, but not nearly out of the woods. As the lady says, he is "a very sick guy." A cardiologist, his cardiologist from this day on, is performing surgery to stop it. Yes, he's alive, she reassures as Mom finally dissolves into tears. The doctor will speak with you shortly, after surgery. It's all right, everyone. He's alive.
These events took place on March 19, 1998. From that day on my little family was changed forever, although we have only recently realized that. Dad had had a cardiac arrest caused by a massive heart attack and had a stent placed in the blocked artery that was causing the attack. He remained in a drug induced coma for two weeks until he broke free of his restraints and pulled out the ventilator that was breathing for him, forcing him to wake up and come back to life. He came home a few days later, too weak to walk for very long or stay awake throughout the day. He had forgotten first what year it was, and later littler things like where we kept the Pepsi he loved, or what shows were on TV that night--shows he had watched with me every night without fail. He couldn't drive. When he first woke up I had to help feed him and help him walk. It's hard to describe the feeling of watching the hero of your life not be able to do the things he did before. From that day on, Dad was more...human.
My heart feels for every family member and friend who has stood by. When I decided to look on the Internet for some kind of support group to help me deal with what was going on, I turned up nothing. While taking care of our fathers, mothers, husbands, brothers, sisters, children, and friends who have to live with heart disease, we should remember their families whose lives have been turned around. Remember the son who took over the "man-of-the-family" role and made all necessary phone calls, drove people around, took care of details and comforted the women of the family until they had cried themselves to sleep and he was left to reflect, all alone. Remember the oldest daughter with children of her own who had to be strong for the kids, but still felt very much like a child. Remember the wife who has to face the possibility of losing her life partner and friend, and how to take care of herself. Remember the parents who can barely stand to see their child--maybe an adult, maybe still very young--suffering so much. For all of you who have been there, YOU ARE IN MY HEART, and my prayers are lifted up to you.
If you feel you need someone to talk to, leave a message on the message board. This is for anyone who may be going through a situation like this--this is a place of learning, of sharing your fears, your joys, and your thoughts. Please keep the language clean so EVERYONE can come without offense. If you want to chat personally, email me at Sadie45@webtv.net.
Links
Heart Information Network: Recovery and Rehabilitation
Heart Information Network: Genetic Factors and Heart Disease (if it is a family member you may be interested in this)
OnHealth: Symptoms and First Aid for Heart Attacks
