With unexplained calm, I sat up, reached for my phone, and called Mom. When our line disconnected shortly after hello, I tried my sister, Laura. She filled me in while hurrying out the door.
Dad experienced symptoms of a heart attack shortly after waking, told mom to call 911, was quickly taken by ambulance to the nearest hospital, and would soon be in the cath lab for a procedure. Exactly what procedure, she didn't know.
So we hung up and focused on teeth and hair.
Blurry-eyed but clean from a shower the night before, I put my hair in a clip and dressed. Don handed me a to-go cup of coffee. With medicine and power drinks in hand, I climbed into Laura's van.
The unexplained calm remained.
Later I joked with Dad, "None of your friends saw this coming."
"Tell me about it," he moaned.
With no warning signs or risk factors, the 100% blockage came out of the blue. It made more sense once the doctor explained a small blood clot obstructed what plaque build-up had yet to clog. But even the blood clot was a surprise.
So perhaps Laura and I were a bit stymied, naive, or simply in shock as we drove to the hospital not knowing what to expect.
Fortunately for us, by the time we found mom and caught up with her side of the story, the doctor walked out to inform us that the procedure went well and dad should be fine, although possibly slowed for a time since his right artery was 100% blocked for just over an hour.
Soon after the doctor left, a nurse called Mom's name and led us back to where Dad was being wheeled out of the cath lab on a gurney. Pale but smiling, my aging father greeted us in the stark hospital hall where we all heard the doc declare, "You dodged a bullet."
While still absorbing the news, the nurse directed us to the ICU waiting room. And not long after we made ourselves comfortable, another called us back to Dad's room.
There, we made small talk and jokes as our group grew. My sister's daughter, Jessica, had already arrived. A fourth year nursing student, she stood by his bed, assessing his vitals and EKG.
My brother, Mark, came next, followed by my son, Sam, and his wife, Courtney. Not used to seeing Dad in bed surrounded by beeping machines, we listened to his side of the tale.
"Did you know the doc asked if I saw the light?" he started.
"Well did you?" we chimed in.
"No. And my life didn't flash before my eyes. But the pain was bad enough that I thought, 'Heaven has to be a lot better than this.'"
"But you stayed so calm," Laura interjected. "A female EMT stopped by with coffee for Mom since they carried you out of the house so fast. She told us your blood pressure stayed low during the ambulance ride which made a big difference in your long term prognosis."
"Well," Dad continued, "I was ready if it was my time to go. I'm not worried about dying. But I was concerned about your Mom since I know she wants to go first."
Pilot training may have added to his resolute calm. But either way, it's reassuring to know he's ready when the time comes. Cause if it's part of the heaven deal, I want to see my dad complete with angel wings.
Dad's healing continued without much fanfare until my Sunday afternoon shift came to an end. Right before I left to attend a concert across town, he said, "I think I have a fever and my fingers are tingling."
I almost didn't leave. But Laura promised to keep me informed. So I picked up Sam, drove north of the city, and barely made it in time to the organ dedication concert at Nathan's church.
The text arrived right before I entered the sanctuary, "His temp's up and they're taking him for a CT scan of his brain."
Calm no more, strong emotions welled up.
So when the congregation was instructed to stand and sing the first hymn with the 200 member choir, a brass ensemble, and the refurbished organ from Trinity Chapel that was damaged in the 9/11 attack, I started weeping and couldn't stop.
The music broke open a tender place in my soul and the emotions poured out. The woman next to me noticed and handed me her entire pocket pack of Kleenex.
Thankfully, about 20 minutes later, another text arrived, "The scan is clear. Treating with antibiotics."
The weeping slowed and the tears dried. But I was left startled by the intensity of emotion I'd experienced. Which is why I never wrote last week.
I'm better. Dad's better. And life is finding it's way too a new normal.
But it's crazy how things can change on a dime. Good things and really bad things. And it's even crazier that when those sudden reversals occur, only time can help dissipate the emotion.
Time... and maybe some music.
I may be a little too stubborn to admit I was scared to lose my dad. Because I don't want to be scared to lose my dad. I want to be strong, courageous, forward thinking, and heaven bound. I've already lost a husband... surely I can handle the loss thing.
But even while celebrating his recovery last Sunday, I learned I may have a hard time singing a few hymns when he's gone.
And that will be okay.
For now, enjoy Dad's new theme song. I just picked it out cause it's workin' for me.
photos courtesy pixabay.com
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