My Mom's Heart

In preparation for today's post, I asked my mom for her permission to talk about her.  Her response was well received.  She feels that if anyone can take something positive away from it, it's a good thing to share.  Some of the details I couldn't remember.  She was able to provide the missing information to fill in the gaps for me.  This was almost 20 years ago, yet some parts are vivid in my memory still and I assume always will be.



"I need you to get up and do something for me.  I need you to call 911."  My mama said to me.  I was 11 years old when my mother came to my bedroom early in the morning before it was time for me to get up for school and calmly asked me to call 911 for her.

She tells me that any other morning, our large black lab knew what it meant to "go wake Tiffy up" and he'd come to my room and pester me until I got up.  But this particular day was different.  Our dog, Duke wouldn't leave my mother's side.  He knew there was a problem.

She had a blanket wrapped around her, with her pajamas underneath.  She slowly sat down on our maroon couch in the living room with no lights on, just the light that came through the window as the day was just beginning it's start.  She had pain and couldn't get comfortable earlier in the morning and my dad had even offered to take her to the hospital.  She declined, saying she'd be fine.  She moved to the couch, dad went to work.  She says she was able to get a bit more sleep.  And in her words she says, "The next time it woke me up I knew something was wrong, and at the same time, knew that it wasn't my day to die."  Thinking it sounded crazy, but she says she just knew.

I must have been in some sort of shock.  I don't remember crying right away.  Mom was telling me that I had to call 911.

"I'm having chest pains and it's hard to breath.  My arm hurts.  I might be having a heart attack."  She told me.

I picked up the phone, carefully dialed 911 for the first time in my life.  I spoke with the dispatcher, gave them my name and hers.  I told them where we lived and answered all of the woman's questions.  She wanted to know where my mom was,  I let her know that it was her who had requested I call and that she sat here close to me, talking and breathing.  

Our local EMT's showed up soon after, (I grew up in a small town, fire station wasn't far away).  I recognized some of the men who were there from the community, only this time they were dressed differently, being in uniform.  They crowded around her, listening to her heart, checking her pulse, taking blood pressure, and giving her much needed oxygen.

My mother, the stubborn woman that she is, refused to take the ambulance ride.  She knew it's expense and knew our family would have trouble affording it.  You see, my parents both worked hard and we lived paycheck to paycheck.  They provided a wonderful home for me, everything I ever needed.  And the reason they were able to provide for me, was likely because my mom was a penny pincher.  She knew how to make her money go as far as it could.  And this was one of the corners she was willing to cut.  At the time, I didn't necessarily understand why she didn't want to go with them.  But she refused.  She stated she would wait for my dad to come home from his job.  Dad worked 30 minutes away from home.  And had likely been at work since the wee hours of the morning.  If he was out on a job, he had to get back to the plant and then leave to come home.  Who knows how long that could have taken.  She later recalls that the ride to the hospital (which was approximately 35 minutes from where we lived) was a painful one.  In retrospect, she wished she should have gone in the ambulance.

After that, my details are fuzzy.  I can't remember if I went to school or not.  At some point, I was at the hospital during one of the tests she was having.  I can recall that she wasn't allowed to move.  She couldn't sit up or move her head much to either side.  She was flat on her back and extremely uncomfortable.  She had to stay that way for numerous hours.  And she was NOT happy about it.  Despite her being upset and most likely in a lot of pain, she still looked over at me and was smiling.  She is also not one that likes having the attention entirely on her.  She's not quite the extrovert freakazoid that I am.

Over the course of the next 19 years, she's had other "episodes" and a second heart attack.  Having stents placed, meds changed, and then sent home to continue to eat like a rabbit.  She has multiple specialists and does everything in her power to keep her body healthy.  It's not her fault and it's not fair.  My mom always used to say to me when I was a kid, hunched over the toilet throwing up, sick to my stomach...  "I would take away the pain if I could."  or "If I could throw up for you, I would."  Sounds gross now as I write it.  But my point of this statement is that I know what she meant.  If I could take away her crappy heart and have it for my own and be the one to have heart attacks and stents placed so that she didn't have to, I would.

My mom is the strongest woman I know.  It's not her weak, unhealthy organ that causes her fits that I adore.  But the big, bright, healthy heart that lives in her soul that is so beautiful.  That is what makes her the woman she is.  Love you, Mama!!!  -Sugie

**If you can take anything away from it, my mother would want you to take this much... don't put it off when it come to health.  Man or woman, adult or child, take care of yourself.