I remember sitting in Mrs. Valentines 5th/6th split class, zoning out due to A.D.D or boredom…or a combination thereof. I was thinking about my parents and worrying about them dying. I figured that, as long as I was able to double their ages, they’d be OK. Silly youthful notions. But the thought of my parents not being here was horrifying then and as an adult, it still is.
When I was 19 and my Mom was 46, when I still could realistically and comfortably almost double her age, she had a massive heart attack. I realized that, no matter how I hoped, prayed or crossed my fingers, my parents and grandparents were not going to live forever. Because we had crazy things to deal with like hearts and blood and attacks and genetics.
She was given a triple Bypass and told she had 5-7 years, give or take. It was a way too short an amount of time. But she pretty much shot the messenger and has beaten many odds thrown her way for the last 22 years. Heart attack, bypass surgery, cardiac arrest that almost killed her
I was at the cardiologist for a follow up appointment on my own silly little heart problem, which, I still don’t know what’s going on except I was put on a Beta Blocker.
My husband called me and left a frantic message on my cell. Something about my mom not being able to breathe and I need to take her to the hospital.
So I did. I took her.
Turned out, she couldn’t breathe because she was having a heart attack and was going into heart failure. Her already damaged heart, damaged. Our family, hearts broken.
My mom. One of the strongest women I have known. Is being kicked in the ass by the fact that, despite her diet and healthy lifestyle, her body decided to produce its own cholesterol and block her arteries. Stints that had been put in place within the last couple years…blocked. Bypass areas, blocked. Genetics suck. Big donkey balls.
A heart catheter procedure was done to try to find the cause of this particular heart attack and find the extent of the havoc that was wreaked.
I’m not ready to go there right now. I can’t.
Wrapped in my own sadness and worry, when I got home from the hospital, I had to explain to my children what was going on. My daughter, the only blood granddaughter and very close to her grandmother, sobbed the way that I wanted to be able to. Her whole soul in it. I’m too tired. Today was too long. So, I just held my daughter and repeated that everything is going to be alright.
Just like my mom told me before I left the hospital.
My mom who has tubes running into veins in both arms that feeds her medicine to keep her heart from dying and electronic equipment beeping those signs of life.
I stood there, looking at my mom whose age I can’t double anymore. Tears running down my cheeks. Feeling sorry for myself because I can’t stand the thought of being motherless. And my mom, the one who is so sick, is telling ME that everything is going to be OK.
Usually, my mom is always right. Just ask her.
So for now? We just hang tight. All of our broken hearts hoping beyond hope that the damage in my moms heart will be something she can, once again, overcome.
All I want to do is curl up on my mom’s lap and cry to her about the fact that I don’t want her to be so sick and I don’t think I can stand the thought of her not being here.
Please. Like I begged on Twitter. And this is coming from someone who has a hard time believing that there is a G-d. But please, keep my Mom in your thoughts and prayers. Because I think it worked earlier, when she was in the ER and I begged for prayers and she got through a heart cath that was supposed to be exceptionally dangerous due to her weakened state.
Now let’s pray for another 5-7 years where she can, once again, shoot the messenger like she did all those years ago.