Sunday, 20 January 2008 

2:00 PM

My sister, Dona, called.  She said, “We’re taking mom to the emergency room.”  

I asked what was going on, trying to get a handle on how serious it was. 

Dona said mom hadn’t been feeling well the past few days and they had even been to Rochester the past 2 days but they had not found anything.  They had thought it might be ulcers. 

Today, when they called Dona, mom said her one arm felt numb.  Knowing that’s a bad sign – often heart related – Dona told them they would be right up to bring them to the emergency room.

(written later – Mother – always the one to be prepared, goes and packs a suitcase while having a heart attack)

4:30 PM 

Just found out my mother had a heart attach.  She’s at St. Mary’s Hospital in Rochester.  They found an artery completely blocked.  They are first going to see if they can open it.  If not, they will do a bypass.  I’m just leaving for Rochester now.  Thanks for praying.

6:30 PM

I arrive at St Mary’s in Rochester. After futile attempts of navigating the many halls of this huge hospital on my own, I stop and ask for directions to 4D.  The guy thinks a bit and says, “It will be easier to walk you there”.

I spot two in-laws in a lounge. They say the others are in the room. They say it does not look good. There are complications.

I am ushered into mom’s room right away. She is awake and alert and her bed is surrounded with people wearing hospital clothing. Family surrounds them. The doctors and nurses are tying to stop the bleeding from where they went in to put a balloon in the blocked artery.

The room is pretty somber.

At one point the doctor decides its time to explain to mom what’s going on. Standing next to her he says, “You’ve had a heart attack.” Mom replies, “Really?!” He then goes on to say what they’ve attempted to do so far – open the blocked artery. He said in the mean time, they found another partially blocked artery. They did not do anything with that one because at that point it was obvious mom had multiple issues.

It seems her blood counts in three different areas are way off from what they should be. There are various possiblilities. My sister tells me not to write what these possibilities are as we don’t know and if you put it on the web, there will soon be all kinds of rumors. What I will say is that she may have a problem that is even more serious than the heart attack.

8:00 PM

As some of us gathered in the lounge, I said I was going to call Leroy, mom’s brother.  Two of my sisters got this aweful look on their faces and one said, “No, I don’t want to go there.”  But we knew it was true.   We were all in the room when the doctor said we would be walking this fine line for awhile.  One said, “We don’t want to scare mom.”  I’m thinking, she’s got a room full of doctors trying to save her life with family surrounding them, if she hasn’t figured it out, I don’t think her brothers will change anything.  I said if it were you in that room, in that condition,  I would want the opportunity to come.  I wouldn’t want the children making that decision for a brother.   I ask, “If it were you in that room and I showed up, would I scare you?”  My sister smiled and said, “No.” 

I went and made the call.   If mom did not make it through the night, I would not want to have not called.  I didn’t tell them to come, but I said they want want to.  Leroy, and his wife, Ruth, came right down.   

When mom found out they were coming, her response?  “Can someone comb my hair?” 

We were not able to connect with her other brother, Conrad.

9:00 PM

Mom seems to be doing o.k.  We take turns going in and being with her.  We only go in 2 or 3 at a time.  The rest of us hang out in the lounge.  We tell dad he’s going to have to do a little more work around the house.  He replies, “Yea, I might have to start shoveling the sidewalk.”

10:00 PM

I go in to be with mom.  I’m alone with her.  (story to follow)

11:00 PM

My sister Lisa, her husband, Rod, another sister, Jane, and dad come into the room to say good-night.  They’re going home for the night and will be back in the morning.  I announce to mom that dad is the new snow shoveler.  Dad says, “Yep.”  My dad tells mom good-night and leans over and gives her a kiss.  It is tender and sweet and rich.  Then as he leaves the room, in typical Eickhoff humor, he says, “I hope you’re home before it snows.”   We all laugh, including mom who I don’t think is suppose to.

My sister, Dona, informs me that mom’s heart is now irregular.