Hi,
My husband Mike’s giving me a blog break again. Here’s his latest:
She’s back on top of the world.
Today Beth had her first followup visit with one of the cardiologists who treated her the morning of her emergency surgery. Three notes about our time with Dr. Ranya Sweis today:
- She’s the best cardiologist in the world in my book, not to mention a helluva human being.
- Beth’s doing great, on or ahead of schedule on all counts. She’ll be swimming laps before you know it.
- Dr. Sweis recounted the events of that Thursday for both of us. I had most of it right, but she added some missing pieces. And her account confirmed that when my own heart missed a few beats that morning out of fear that I was losing Beth, it was for good reason. I wasn’t over-reacting. Beth was on very thin ice. The team at Northwestern worked magnificently, heroically, efficiently. They have a lot to be proud of.
We’re lucky. And one of these days maybe I’ll feel lucky. And triumphant. Until then, I’m just content to feel a little numb and worn out and not so much lucky as … grateful.
Grateful that we have health insurance. That we flew Beth home from Vermont early. That she had her first scary incident in a cardiologist’s office, and that Northwestern Memorial Hospital was the nearest trauma center.
That I could get a concerned call at 5:30 a.m., take a shower, step into a cab and be at the hospital in roughly 18 minutes. That all those people with all that training and experience were there. Fantastic young people. Twenty-something Amandas and Beckys and Christophers and Laurens with knowledge and presence beyond their years.
Grateful that they all told me everything as soon as they knew it, before, during, and after the surgery. That Dr. Sweis made me promise her — after delivering the news that Beth’s heart had gone bonkers and had to be shocked back into rhythm, and that she was heading to emergency surgery — that I’d call a friend to be with me. That I made good on that promise, something I probably wouldn’t have done 25 years ago.
And that when I called our friend Greg he said he was on the first day of five days off. Greg’s a flight attendant. He never has five days off. “Do you want me to come down there?” I said yes. And he did. Within an hour. And he brought a fresh new Hav-A-Hank, some sugarless gum and salty junk food. And he shepherded me through the next few hours when I was in a kind of trance and couldn’t make mundane decisions about things like whether to go for a walk to get some fresh air or not.
Grateful that the cab driver who took me to the hospital on Saturday morning was tuned into WBEZ and This American Life. After I got in he turned it down to be polite. I asked him to turn it back up, and we rode to the hospital listening to David Sedaris read his story about his jazz-loving father’s record collection, his dad’s ill-fated attempt to enlist his children into his own private jazz combo, and listening to Sedaris’ uncanny Billy Holiday impressions. The cab driver and I laughed together the whole ride.
And grateful that family and friends made respectfully, perfectly timed visits that broke the hospital monotony. (And later, after the hospital, took Beth on walks, took Whitney on walks, and delivered meals to our door.)
I have relived those terrifying hours in the hospital, retold the story again and again; I’m grateful to all of you who’ve listened. Once I start I have to tell it all, just to get to the good ending, almost afraid that if I get stopped in the middle it’d end differently. It’s crazy all the vignettes that still stream through my head.
I imagine the heartbreak of folks who do lose someone suddenly, unexpectedly; to illness, to accident, to violence. And I wish so hard that they all had our outcome. And I hope they have the kind of support I’ve had, we’ve had.
Thank you all.
Time for the next chapter.
Beautiful Mike.
Mike, you made it so real I got scared all over again and then teary. You two are so lucky to have each other.
Judy Roth
Thanks for your wonderful blog. It is scary to read, let alone live it. I’m grateful too that there is a happy ending. Lois Baron
Hi Mike,
I haven’t met you but YOU ROCK!
You and Beth are so lucky to have each other.
Your gratitude is palpable.
Love to you both,
Susie
MIke — you have proven that words can describe incredible things and convey emotions that often we think words cannot. We love you both. J&J
Beautiful….
Jessie Reagen Mann http://www.cellochic.com
So touchingly put. From experience, let me say that you probably will be in a bit of shock for a while, but your words prove you’re definitely emerging from that scary tunnel of fear and disbelief. 🙂
Deb W
Thanks, Mike, for being who you are and for sharing. Doug Finke sent from my iPhone
Beautiful post, beautifully put. It doesn’t always end this way, but it’s nice to remember that sometimes it does.
So glad to read more about what happened and continues to happen. All our love to you, Beth and and those who have been there to help and support you both.
Beautifully written and so wonderful for a happy ending! BIG HUGS to you and Beth from the Krewe of BIJOU NOLA. XOXOX
That must have been such a terrifying time.
Great to know you have great family and friends, and distractions like Jazz and the taxi driver around when you need them.
So glad Beth’s recovering well. I’m just catching up on the blog and on all that’s been happening.
Take care Beth and Mike 🙂
This brought me tears. I remember your post before Beth left . . . eerie prescience of the events to come? Hugs to you both, K
We also, are very grateful that you and Beth will be o.k.
Anna &
Jacques
Hi Beth and Mike,
I just had time to sit down and actually read the last few posts thoroughly, and the more I read them the more I realize just how lucky Beth was to survive such a scary experience. We’re all so, so, glad Beth is doing much better and we’re extremely thankful she’s still here. I wish both of you the best and hope for Beth’s speedy recovery — I know you’ll be back to your normal self in no time Beth!
I heard that David Sedaris show on NPR. It was hilarious!
Wow – gratitude in such a scary experience. Thank you for sharing your journey. You’ve been in our thoughts. Sending love and prayers from Becky and Cricket.
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