On June 3rd, 2015; my mother-in-law passed away in her sleep. It was definitely unexpected. I suppose I had a rocky start with her , in the beginning; but we managed to get a lot closer in the past two years. Little did I know that this was just the beginning to the avalanche that had been set into motion.

June 4th, 2015 was a busy day filled with funeral arrangements and consoling my children on the loss of their grandma. It seemed like it would end in an ordinary way as well. My husband insisted that I go to the final evening of a college class that I was taking. I felt heavy hearted and torn. I wasn’t sure why. My husband has always supported my education endeavors and I was hoping that he just wanted something predictatble in his day. So I went.

At 8pm, I received an phone call that I had dreaded since the day we had gotten married. My husband was having a heart attack. My heart dropped through the floor. His family had a history of of severe heart disease. His male relatives rarely made it past 65 years old. His grandfather died in his 50’s. His father died in his 60’s. His uncle had already had multiple heart attacks.

As I raced to the hospital, praying and sobbing; I realized that driver’s are jerks. If you see a car with their hazards on, get out of their way!!! I was flagged and flipped off because I would not turn mine off. I would have thought that my ‘ugly cry’ would have tipped them off. Clearly not.

As I arrived at the emergency room, it became clear that he was in the middle of a heart attack. He needed to under-go an immediate heart cath to relieve whatever was causing the issue. It was a quick hour procedure, the surgeon was very pleasant. He had no voice, due to allergies. He was very kind and drew a doctor scribble to show me that my husband would need a quadruple bypass the following Monday. My head started swimming. They would not release him to go to the funeral. I felt like I had swallowed a grenade.

Monday came quickly. Too quickly. It was a six hour procedure. What I thought would be the longest six hours of my life. It wasn’t.

The surgeon came out with a very serious look on his face. I don’t think I breathed the whole time he was talking. It turned out that my husband had had a heart attack before. Maybe a few years ago. A massive one. I couldn’t hear anymore. My heart was pounding and I walked away. I found the closest bathroom and threw up. Then I went to the hospital chapel and let my heart break into pieces. I don’t know how long I was there. I don’t know who all could hear me. I didn’t care. My husband was slipping away and I couldn’t do anything about it.

The pastor who performed our wedding ceremony walked in to speak to me and offer some comfort. His beautiful granddaughter had died after a battle with cancer. And he still believed in God’s mercy and love. His voice and familiar face seemed to calm my insides. I felt completely shattered. My husband had had a previous heart attack and didn’t tell me. Didn’t tell anyone. I was sure that it was my fault. I stressed him out too much. I wasn’t a good enough wife. I hate housework. I’m not the best cook in the world. And I certainly wasn’t in a hurry to have relations lately.

An hour later, I got to go and see my husband in ICU. I walked into the room and what was left of my heart, completely turned to dust. The man that I loved, was laid out on a hospital bed with a huge scar on his chest, IV’s and tubes everywhere. My husband is a big, burly, barrel chested, 6’1″ tall man. He grew up on a ranch. Lover of John Wayne and anything else ‘manly’. Now he was laying lifeless on more machines than I could count. I had been a nursing student until shiftwork disorder killed that dream; so I was no stranger to hospitals and procedures. There is something different about having someone, that you love to your core; completely at the mercy of machines.

I didn’t think it could get worse. But it did.

~ by goddess4ever on July 20, 2015.

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