It was a regular Friday night, except that Artemis II space pod had landed in the ocean and it was on tv and b and I were watching it for a few hours just bobbing there while I was at the same time building a saddle rack that had come in the mail. It is a huge black metal number that required stacking and screwing metal poles in and luckily Nathan had stopped by home just in time to drill the harder parts together.
So the moon people got back safely and out onto boats in the ocean amidst other humans after being Off Planet for a few days, and the mystery of Leaving in the hugest sense of the word and Coming Back safely in the other hugest sense, B and I just kept watching cause it all seemed so unlikely and otherworldly.
Then I dragged my saddle rack out to the barn in the dark and arranged some saddles on it and felt happy to see my barn shaping up in a new way, it's fun to change things around and improve little things. It's my favorite place to waste time.
Then I checked on my mom, and made her comfy, and made sure she wasn't tipping over and was watered and resting and tended. Then on the way back in I thought okay I'll just jump in the hot tub a min just to warm up and I was getting out of the hot tub when B opened the screen door and said I think I'm having a heart attack
I've had enough emergencies in my life and I live with a jew and he was ambulatory so I thought let's just check this out first.
I found out he felt like it was heartburn, and his arm was numb and he felt this way last night but it went away and I went to get my mom's meters and things and tested his oxygen and blood pressure but the blood pressure thing didn't work right and I listened a bit more to how he was feeling and more the way he was saying it, which was a little not quite normal B edgily and I said ok let's go. We're only gonna miss a laker game and most of our guys are injured anyway.
So we're driving in the van and b is holding his arm and he's saying I wonder if we should have called an ambulance and that's when my eyes get a bit wide internally so I start gently running red lights when safe and saying hey let's keep talking buddy, tell me how you're doing and maybe we should talk about the lakers
I try to keep him talking cause if he's quiet I can't look at him while driving and if he dies in the car I don't think I want that as a cherished memory so I'm like don't die motherfucker keep talking and he says it seems like there's so many more exits on the freeway to get there and so I gun it faster and we get there, he walks in, we say chest pain, the waiting room is full like there's a movie premiere, and we sit DOWN which I think is weird because on tv chest pain usually gets you back fast where the movie stars are doctors.
We do get in and the young girl doctor, literally Doc McStuffins, does a stroke test on B and then says ok we're gonna call code stroke just because it gets you a bunch of heart attack and stroke tests really quick. They wheel him away to do a CT scan and they tell me just wait in the waiting room and we'll get you in a bit.
I go to sit back down in the place full of people competing for a spot where nobody wants to be, and sit down shoulder to shoulder with sick and this is the first time I think oh no what if he dies on the table. We have no idea what's going on but what if it's all over? I think for a minute about how I don't know where any files are. I have been doing the hands on kid raising not the number crunching, there is so much I don't know and don't want to know about how life actually runs at my address. I have done all the maintenance b has done all the bills. Also, the kids need a dad. Also, b is supposed to be here forever, forever annoying, forever smart, always forgiving. I'm alone in that waiting room.
They call me back but they call me Linda. I say oh no did he forget my name already? Then the nurse says oh man I can never remember anything no, he gave the right name.
B is still living and in a tiny room in the back with 3 roommates behind curtains. He has the corner suite, it's luxurious and not worrisome or uncomfortable just kidding. The same young doctor returns, tall, thin, in a zip up dark grey patagonia fleece and I say you look like an ice skater. She says first time I've heard that one! She says his triponin levels have earned him a night's stay in the hospital, even if they aren't super high she wants to keep doing more tests and giving him blood thinner til we know what it is.
B is feeling no pain. I text his errant son to come to the hospital. We sit with B until around midnight hoping to get him a room but it's going to be awhile. At 1 he says go home and I'll tell you when they move me.
I sleep at home from 2-6. Then he says they're going to get me a room.
All Saturday we spend at the hospital while B's miraculous family comes in and out, bringing food, sitting stacked up, bringing cheer. Bringing cheer. I don't think B felt one bit of tension because there was so much family it was like being at one of the kids' birthday parties. The voices drowned out all the worries because what could happen, when your family loves you. They wrapped us in a hammock of food and love and warded off the evil. Somewhere in there the nurses say he had a heart attack and they have to do some kind of test to stick a tube up there and shoot a dye and see if anything is blocked. If nothing blocked, they take tube out and manage with meds. If artery is blocked they stick little stent tubes up there to open it up. If too many arteries are blocked they do nothing, and later have to a do a bigger surgery. We're hoping for option 1 or 2. They can't do the surgery til Monday.
The next day he texts me at 7 am. They're going to do the angiogram right now. His niece and his brother show up to wait in the room next to him, to be there. I have to juggle managing my mom and farm and then shooting over there as soon as I can.
The outcome is #2, they stick in 3 stents. He has never been in the hospital in his life. This is very un-b like. His heart should work fine now. He has a big purple arm from a bruise. He's back in the bed. It's Sunday. There is more family and food. B has really no idea anything has happened because his family is the ultimate blockage from feeling pain. Or worse, fear.
He gets out 1 day later. He goes swimming the next day. He's tired and dizzy, and he feels paper thin in his brain. He feels like an old man. We realize his blood pressure is a little low. So we have to call his doc and for the first time I am helping him call doctors and make sure about his health. His doc takes him off those blood pressure meds for now. Today he is more like himself. It's now day 5. It is now Friday again. There is no splashdown from the moon today.
There is just the sound of Nathan in his red boxers and no shirt talking to B in his comfy chair out there, talking about the chances of the lakers making it in the playoffs. Even though all their good players are injured.
Like the hospital, this is the sound of family.
