I walk in with Addi-we've been in the lukewarm pool- desperately trying to mitigate the heat and humidity. The cold air conditioner causes chill bumps to rise on my arms and legs. I hear the familiar chime of my new text message- reminder.Uggghh, I sigh. I am just trying to take 2 hours off on Friday afternoon- to play with my granddaughter. Already irritated by the intrusion, I look down at the pink phone and recognize my youngest sister's number. It is a 970- area code- so I go ahead and check the message, reluctant to let it intrude on my sacred time with Addi. "Daddy failed his stress test. Has been having some chest pain. Will have procedure on Monday in Durango. Just wanted y'all to know."
Instantly, the chill bumps worsen; in fact they penetrate my heart and soul. You don't know my father- he is the epitome of a Stoic. He is in better shape than all the 40 year old men I know- he hikes, bikes, skis like a pro, every minute he can. For him to admit to "some chest pain" is Big. Really Big.
I find a Dr. Seuss episode on TV for Addi, as I quickly open my computer to search for airfares to Durango. I am not an alarmist. I am not a doomsday person. But I have learned over the past years especially, to trust this inner voice that says- "Go".
My siblings ask me why I'm going- "it's just a routine test" they say. I respond- " I need to go."
We wake up at 4:30 a.m. to leave their house in Southwest Colorado early enough to be at the hospital at 6. Daddy, a physician for the last 49 years, has never been a patient. He is on the other side and does not like it one bit. His blue eyes flicker suspiciously as we enter the admissions area- this is foreign land for him. It reeks of helplessness and weakness. He cringes.
We wait. And we wait. Then we learn there is an emergency coming in- a person from a nearby town is in route who has had a heart attack, so of course, we wait some more. Meanwhile he already has i.v. tubes going in and out of him. Finally, they take him in. The Doctor, nearly his age, and as fit and vital as my father assures all of us that this will be nothing.
Thirty minutes go by.
Finally! “Well, I have a surprise for you” the Doctor says, strolling into the cardiac care waiting room. Instantly, my heart and spirit perk up. Of course- surprise conjures up happy thoughts for me- surprise parties- surprise visits, surprise gifts- but this time the surprise was not good. “He has 99% blockage in 2 arteries and 80 % in 2 other places. He needs surgery- and I can’t do it here “(at that point we are in Durango, Colorado- the closest metropolitan area to where my father lives in Southwest Colorado). “I’ve called for the helicopter and he needs to go now to Albuquerque for surgery”. The Doctors green eyes match his green scrubs- he is meticulous in his words, dress and actions.
Immediately, “cry out to the lord”- words from Isaiah- pop into my head as I begin to call my other siblings scattered among states, and my fathers’ brothers to tell them of this “surprise”.
Needless to say, the 4 hour drive to Albuquerque with my youngest sister and my step-mother was not a leisurely drive through the desert. There was no time to stop to admire the breathtaking scenery, as we sped and swerve our way through curvy desert roads, small towns, Indian reservations and eventually to the highway that led us to the Presbyterian hospital where my father sat anxiously, waiting.
All sorts of words and thoughts ran across my mind. The lord is faithful and merciful. God will never leave or forsake us. But other thoughts snuck in as well, especially two small words: what if? So, I keep praying and pressing the accelerator- that’s all I could do for four hours. Finally, we bounce and race our way to the hospital, and screech the van into a parking lot, all three of us running into the hospital.
We find Daddy lying fretfully in a bed, hooked up to all sorts of tubes and wires- already impatient and griping about getting out of this !#*!*# place. Finally, visiting hours are over, we must leave him there alone. After kissing him goodbye, we drag our feet to the elevator. I stop, grabbing my sisters’ arm. By now, All of us are in tears- I point to a poster on the wall merely 3 feet away from my father’s room. A picture of the mountains with words from the prophet Ezekiel:I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit in you; I will remove from you your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh.
As we step into the elevator- I know that my crying out to the lord has not gone in vain. Daddy was in deed in good hands. God was present and would not forsake any of us. Thanks be to God…
