Remembering how fragile life really is



Originally published June 29, 2009 at midnight, updated June 30, 2009 at 5:05 p.m.

Last Thursday started as a normal day for me. I planned to spend most of it working at the clinic. I had a morning appointment with my doctor for my routine annual check-up.

After that, I was going to call my mom because she was scheduled for an angiogram. She is 76 years old, and she was having the scan due to some intermittent chest pain over the last several weeks.

I was talking with my doctor and my cell phone rang, causing my face to flush red because I was supposed to have turned it off for the visit. He politely stopped the exam, and asked if I needed to answer the phone and I said, "No."

The visit ended by 10:30 and I was back out to my car. My phone rang again. It was my sister, Cindy. She explained that they were trying to get in touch with me to tell me to come home to Lake Charles as soon as possible.

My heart skipped a beat as she told me about mom's visit to her cardiologist earlier that morning. The doctor had become concerned over the test results and had called in the thoracic surgeon. Her coronary arteries were dangerously blocked.

My mom was to have open heart surgery around 3 o'clock that afternoon.

My first thought was, "How could this be happening?"

I found out about my mom's appointment the weekend before, when my dad let it slip in conversation. My parents seem to think that by keeping information from their three daughters, that we won't worry unnecessarily about them. However, if we chose this same technique with them we would receive a "tongue lashing" for sure.

Mom had downplayed her heart appointment and so I had chosen not to go, but my youngest sister Cindy thought one of the girls should be there so she went.

Breathlessly, I drove to the clinic to tell Taylor I was on my way to Lake Charles. I then went home and threw some clothes in a overnight case, along with a book to read and my knitting (both would come in handy in the ICU waiting area.)

I was on the road by noon, driving as fast as I legally and safely could. I called Cindy to let her know what time to expect me since Lake Charles is about 4 ½ hours away.

So many memories were flooding my brain as I drove, all memories of mom and my sisters as we were growing up.

I was saddened to think I would not be able to see her before surgery, so I offered up several prayers (about 50) during my drive.

When I was about halfway there, I got a call that the surgeon would not be able to start the surgery until 4:30 ... answered prayer number one - I would be able to see my mom before her surgery.

About 12 years ago, my dad had a quadruple bypass. A life of french fries, fried seafood, crawfish cooked all sorts of ways, boudin sausage and Cajun food of every type had finally caught up with him.

I remember the way he looked just after surgery and the days of recovery later when my sisters and I took turns staying at the hospital - praying for his recovery.

My dad knew first-hand what my mom would experience, and in my first few moments of conversation with him, I knew he was afraid for her. When you are older and have major surgery, there is always that possibility that you won't survive.

I arrived at the hospital around 4:25 p.m. and got to spend a brief five minutes with mom before she went into surgery. She looked good, but I could see fear behind her smile. Her hands were cold as I grabbed them and whispered a prayer asking for her to return to us after surgery. The nurse wheeled her away and Cindy, Dad and I began the waiting vigil.

Soon, friends from their church began to fill the waiting room. Since I grew up in Lake Charles, I knew most of the group and could not figure out why they could not recognize my sisters and me. We've only been gone about 30 years. Most of those folks looked the same, just a bit older.

Over the next five plus hours, we sat with our hopeful companions and talked and laughed about my mom, what they loved about her, and funny things she said.

Most of the people had, at one time or another, been in my mom's place (in surgery) and she and my dad had sat waiting for their news after surgery.

I took up the spot near the telephone and finally received a call around 9:30 p.m. that she had made it. Soon after, one of the doctors came out to talk to us about the surgery. He explained that it had been very difficult and tedious to do the bypass.

He was a friend of my parents and said that while they were in surgery they could feel our prayers.

This brought tears to my eyes, and I wept, grateful that mom had survived the operation. He told us that she would have to spend the next few days in the ICU.

Dad, my two sisters and I saw mom around 11 p.m. She was sleeping with tubes coming from her neck, abdomen, arms and mouth. The ventilator was doing her breathing, and the machines were flickering with an occasional beep.

She had a long night ahead of her, and I chose to sleep in the waiting room just in case something went wrong. Everyone seemed to have left the hospital except me, and I wandered the halls in search of a blanket and pillow. A hospital at night is very quiet and a little creepy. A security guard was walking the halls, which made me think maybe sleeping there was not such a safe thing to do. I finally curled up and drifted off on a padded bench. I slept fitfully.

I was up for the 6 a.m. visitation. I went into the ICU and was encouraged when I saw my mom. Color had returned to her face, and her eyes fluttered when I said her name. She couldn't speak since she was still on the ventilator. She looked a little confused. We reassured her that the surgeon said everything was OK, and that we would be nearby. We felt she was in good hands, both there and above.

Over the next two days, my sisters and I were able to visit her briefly every few hours. She was soon able to get off the ventilator so she could breathe on her own.

Friends came and went on a regular basis, and I was so grateful that mom and dad had this community of friends to support them.

My dad was peaceful and hopeful, and showed no signs of being discouraged. His positive personality had returned and replaced the fear I had seen initially.

With each visit, I saw her getting better. The pain was obviously significant from having her chest opened. On a scale of one to 10, she said it was an 11.

Mom is from the old school of "grin and bear it," but it wasn't long before she asked for the strong pain medication. The staff in the ICU was incredible, and mom truly appreciated all they did. When the doctor removed the ventilator tube, her first feeble words were, "Make them some muffins."

This experience has humbled me more than I thought possible. I was reminded how fragile our lives are, and how easily we are gone from this earth. I have often heard it said "Everyone wants to go to heaven, they just don't want to go right now." This is such a true statement. I am not ready to lose my parents just yet.

My husband reminded me that I might not have such good genes, since both of my parents have had bypass surgery. He might be right. Good healthy habits of diet and exercise go a long way in preventing such surgeries, but it may also require certain medications to control other risk factors such as high cholesterol.

The night before I left I talked to my dad about eating healthier, omitting things such as fried fish and hushpuppies. He shook his head in defeat and said, "you're right . things have to change around here."

Proper diet and exercise are important to each of us, and definitely affect our longevity. We can splurge every now and then, but not on a daily basis.

The celebration of Independence Day is right around the corner, and families are going to plan picnics and meals together. Ice cream is a delicious treat - just don't eat too much. These ice cream recipes will remind you of childhood.

Myra Starkey lives in Victoria. Write her in care of the Advocate, P.O. Box 1518, Victoria, TX 77901, or e-mail myra@vicad.com.