(Mis)Fortune

Elmer on discharge day, five days after surgery.

Two weeks ago, our number came up.   As it can anytime and with greater odds as we age, life pivoted in a nanosecond.  My husband suffered a heart attack.  He would need corornary bypass surgery.  In the challenges of the days that have followed, we have been bathed in blessing, so that misfortune has lost its edge and receded into obscurity.  Good fortune has leaped through the adversity.

1.              He lives.  The damage he suffered is not life-altering.  My life has forked,  not exploded.

2.              My husband received prompt and incomparable medical care, both at St. Peter’s, our local hospital, and the cardiac and surgical intensive care units of the Regina General Hospital, where he was expedited by ambulance.  In particular :

·      By the time I arrived an hour after the ambulance, he was already in an angiogram / angioplasty procedure to diagnose the damage, open a blocked artery, and buy some time.

·      Medical staff provided information on a before-you-need-to-know basis.  Aware of the actions being taken and the reasons for them, we felt secure.

·      Dr. Tsang, one of the surgeons, was to go over the surgical procedure—maybe that night, maybe the next morning.  When I confided to Ruth, Elmer’s nurse on admission day, that I wanted to be present for the surgeon’s visit, whether it occurred that day or the next morning, and that I hoped to get home before the Kids from the East arrived, she offered to check with him.  Turns out he was already in the unit, and dropped by for the chat ten minutes later.   Talk about both those professionals going the extra mile.

·      Medical staff took time.  Never once did their body language communicate impatience—no glance at the watch, no brusque movement, no body turned to leave as the last word rushed out.  Feet firmly planted, hands loose, they smiled and answered question after question.  These are people with hectic schedules.  Although the next items on their to-do lists might have been scrolling behind their eyes, their gestures did not betray them.  Dr. Macdonald, the anesthetist, for example, in scrubs complete with surgical cap, stethescope collared around the neck, sat on a stool beside my husband’s bed, feet spread, elbows on the knees, as he explained his role in the procedure.  He had all the time in the world for us.  Dr. Booker, the cardiologist, took a call from St. Peter’s Hospital just before 5:00 a.m.  After surgery, Dr. Korkola found us in the waiting room to talk about how the procedure had gone, and what recovery might look like.

3.              Location, location, location.  Since February, we have been in Calgary, Winnipeg, Saskatoon, and Arizona.   The attack occurred at home, in Saskatchewan, the home of universal health care. 

4.              Timing is everything.  As I am the official chauffeur for the next four weeks yet, I am happy that we are moving through spring toward summer.   Snowstorms and ugly roads are still likely, but the odds, as they say, are in my favour.

5.              Our children had uninterrupted time together.   Our adult children pressed pause on their lives, and headed to their father’s bedside.  With three days in  hospital rooms and waiting rooms, they had time to share stories, laugh, play games.  We ate together, and we had time together in the evenings before hitting the pillow in exhaustion.  Through that interaction, they supported each other (and me!), and, without even being aware of it, relieved each other’s stress and anxiety.

6.              I’m in the ebb, not the flow, of my own work.  Although I did have to rely on a colleague to pinch-hit a session for me, the contract work that remains is free of deadlines, and can even be done from home, should that still be necessary.

7.              Prayers and positive energy have impact.  We are so grateful for the support from family, friends, and community.  People phoned, texted, emailed, sent cards, traditional and digital, visited in the hospital, and had masses offered.  Our neighbor’s family offered me their guest room for two nights.  People also brought muffins, soup, stew, and goodies, and with the food came life-giving conversations.   I am sure that this groundswell of affection has contributed to Elmer’s impressive recovery.

As we move on in recovery, the balm of these blessings soothes any pain and levels the road ahead.  We are so very grateful.