Mom’s Heart Attack

On Thursday morning around 11:15 I ring Mom and Dad’s to tell them about my earlier meeting with the designer.  Mom answers and tells me that Dad is out at a dentist’s appointment.  She says she had been vacuuming, but just stopped because she suddenly didn’t feel well.  I say that she had probably been overdoing the house work and suggested she take a rest.  I tell her I’ll call later after she has a chance to rest and Dad was back.  About an hour and a half later I call again and got the answering machine.  Then at about 2:15 I get the call from Dad.  Mom is in an ambulance on her way to St. Francis.

Mom’s the one who always takes vitamins, even those gross cod liver oil pills.  She’s cautious about cholesterol.  She eats well, unlike Dad.  Dad’s on his cell driving to St. Francis and I hang up with him before thinking to ask him who I should call, so I decide to call both brothers and sister.  I start with Kathleen and ring her home.  Larry answers, “Interesting, huh?”  Not the “I’m so sorry to hear about this” that I was expecting, but I’m trying to reach Kathleen.  He says that Dad called him and he left voicemail for Kathy who is at a church meeting.  I get a ring from her moments later.  She’s shaken but she’s a nurse so she’s handling it.  We share an I-can’t-believe-this-is-happening-to-Mom moment.  I tell her that I’ll call Steve as I IM Frank.  I ask if I should call Amanda at the hospital.  We agree that since she won’t be able to do anything but stay and keep working, and since we don’t know much that I should wait.  My dear usually calls in the afternoon anyway, so I figure I’ll tell her then.

Frank is away from his keyboard, so I call the mobile number I have for Steve.  I get a woman named Tracy who is married to a man named Steve, but she’s only got relatives in Canada.  I shake my head at the coincidence and ring his business line.  He answers, and either Dad didn’t have his number or called the house so I break the news.  He’s as shocked as the rest of us and asks me to keep him updated.

I dial Frank’s number from memory but get his machine.  I glace at Trillian to see if Paul is online, so I ping him to see if he knows where Frank is at.  He doesn’t, but says he’ll start making calls to other members of ILL Clan.  

The phone rings and it’s Kathy.  “No more cheese for Mom,” she says with a laugh.  She’s gotten confirmation that it’s a heart attack.  And I can almost hear my hope that this was something minor crack.  Mom has been sent straight into the O.R. for an angiogram and more depending on what the doctors find.  

More time passed and I manage to stay focused enough to fix a bug.  The phone rings again and it’s still not Frank but Kathy again.  Mom had several blockages, the one in her right coronary artery being total, and a stent was put in.  Jesus, this is serious.  I wince at saying His name for fear of bringing more bad luck upon the situation, then an inner voice chastises me for being superstitious.  

Paul IMs that Frank is with Matt, and they’re stuck in meetings.  By this time, Paul has asked what’s happening, and he says he’s told Matt who says he passed along the word to Frank.  A few hours later Frank calls, and again with the shock that this happened to Mom.  He’s already called around and relays word that Mom is awake and talking, saying she feels better than she has in days.  I whisper a quick prayer of thanks.

Five o’clock rolls by and no call from Amanda.  We had been planning to drive down tomorrow night for Grandma Luzi’s memorial mass the following day, but I’d like to drive down first thing in the morning, so I call.  Amanda picks up the line and I’ve never heard her gasp so loudly.  She’s immediately crying.  I didn’t think she’d take it this hard.  The memories of her mother’s passing must be rushing back.  I try to sooth the blow, and she gets to work on getting people to cover for her the following day.

I know that Hazel will ask about the worry that I can’t wipe from my face.  I explain that Grandma has a heart-sickness and that we’re going to visit her in the hospital.  She remembers the anatomy lessons that Amanda gave her, knowing a heart-sickness means the blood isn’t getting pumped properly.  I smile for the first time that day.

Amanda gets home and she’s gotten people to cover.  I call Dad and let him know when we’ll be down and he sounds relieved to hear it.  The next morning we pack with the madness of children and dogs but we get on the road and make it down.  Dad looks exhausted, and the kids had snacks in the car so we pass on lunch and head straight for the hospital.  

Mom looks like nothing has happened, and I feel almost lightheaded with relief.  She’s bright and happy and says it wasn’t a bad experience, and I remember that she’s a tough French country girl who survived a bombing and a collapsed house.  By Sunday morning Dad and I were bringing her home.  She’s still had a heart attack, and she’s going to have to learn to take it easy, but she’s well on the road to recovery.