Monday Morning's Rascal

Strange noise outside my breakfast room window this morning:  It was up to me to solve the unsolved mystery.  No one else even knew the possible danger that lurked between me and the two thin sheets of plate glass.  Everyone else in the house still slumbered and dreamed of yesterday's chicken enchiladas smothered with thick, smooth sour cream sauce.

With coffee pot in hand I inched towards the window, following the sounds.  It could be a cat.  Creatures like that do prowl my deck:  those, as well as opossums.  It could be a rat, but with the noise so loud, the rat would have to be inside.  Negative... don't even think that.  I'd rather it be a person out on the deck instead of a rat inside.

Backing up, I decided maybe I better finish making my coffee and get the glass pot out of my hand.  I just might drop it if startled, and common sense told me a cup of coffee might help me decipher just what was going on.  Besides, if it were a burglar... maybe he would GO AWAY, and I wouldn't have to subdue him.  Anyway, I'd hate to have to deal with the police before I put on my make-up.  They might arrest me for something similar to indecency.

Scratchy noise?  Not really.  Rustling noise?  Well, sort of.  It would sound off, then stop, as if waiting for a response.  I was not the one to answer, for I was the investigator.  Listening and looking were my tasks, and I took my job seriously.  The safety of my household depended upon me, and I, a solitary woman demanded an answer!

With nothing in hand, for the coffee was slow to drip, I armed myself with hands on hips and inched forward to the window.  Fear pulsed through my veins:  courage through my arteries.  I wasn't prepared for what I saw.  For there was nothing to see, but a robin.  I backed off and waited.  Surely the intruder would strike again, and I would catch it in the act.  Patience was my game, and I, Superwoman, would outlast the culprit and, save the day.

"There it is, again!", I whispered to myself.  "What is it?"  With steady eyes and ears attuned, I caught it in the act and witnessed first hand its trespassing deed.  It thrashed about giving its all to its mind-boggling purpose.  Determination defied the odds, and common sense it had not.  It unleashed its flurry as feathers flew, and my window clouded over with feathered dust.  That pitiful little robin kept bopping into my window, and my heightened senses felt sorry for the creature, but sorrier for myself since I had just cleaned that window two days earlier, and had waited a year to do so!

By gosh, and by darn... here I had revved up my super powers to conquer the world, at least the enemy outside, and now the enemy was no bigger than yesterday's lunch.  Super powers were not necessary at all:  just wasted energy.

With something very special muttered by my mouth, my hands flew up to shoo away the rascal.  As he flew away, my "uncaffeined" brain can't confirm what I saw, but with wings outstretched and a glint in its eye, I'd swear that that pesky little robin, that pretty little orange-breasted creature gave me a wave and a good bye sign...  one seen out on the highways and byways of life.  I'm not sure which one of us felt more stupid:  the bird that gave me "the bird"... or me.

Alas... what a way to to start a new day.  Guess even Super Women make enemies...

Looking for the Windex,
Cindy Lou

I told my husband about the robin and its strange behaviour. He said that he's familiar with the bird's activity of flying into the glass. It seems to happen only in the morning, and he suspects that the robin sees his reflection in the window and considers it a threat. Therefore, the sign language I saw was not meant for me, but rather for the other bird!

Gotta' love it!!!

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

"Tic-Toc..."

Tic-toc
goes the clock:
Tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, tic, toc.
Tic-toc
goes the clock:
tic, tic, tic, tic, toc.

Rock to the clock,
- as the clock
tic, tic, tic, tic, tic,
Tic-tocs.
Tic-toc,
Tic, tic, toc.
Tic-toc goes the clock.

Just a little rhyme I chant to my grandbaby:  over and over, and over.  She loves it, and of course, so do I.  She stares into space, the one up at the ceiling, and whatever she sees captivates her attention.  I stare at her, the little one in my arms, and what I see captivates me. 

Tic-toc
tic, tic, toc.
Tic-toc
goes... the....... clock.

Family clock, 5th generation

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Chapter 3...

Chapter Three - The Blue Room

Blue.  Everything in the room seemed blue:  the wall color, the color of the light bulbs, the chairs, the nurses outfits, my husband's hospital gown, even the dirty linen hamper.  "That's good.  Blue is his favorite color.  It's a calming color.  Hope it works."  If the color had soothed him, I couldn't tell.  He seemed agitated and... well, verbal!  Richard was verbal, very, very much so.  What HAD they done to him???

His tone of voice was different.  By that I mean that he didn't sound gentle and calm, his normal demeanor. He was rather hostile!  This man whom I had been with for nearly forty years, and had seen angry only once in my life, now had an attitude that was shaking the walls!  Hostility and irritability were behind his every statement:  not at all like my easy going Richard.  The nurses refused to let it bother them. They just kept on working and let it roll off their backs... their navy blue backs.

Ahh, but he was alive:  changed, maybe... but alive!  He did welcome me, and let me kiss him.  His cheek felt warm and damp.  My tears blended with his whiskers, and our words of love spoken to each other softened the attitude in his room.  The blue lights didn't seem so cold now.   Hugging him was awkward:  too many hoses, tubes, and wires, but I did manage to do a head snuggle with him, and the earthy fragrance of my man confirmed that I was "home":  another journey behind me.

The nurses updated me and answered my questions, but no one could make me understand why Richard had not told me or our son about his chest pain.  No one could explain why he drove himself to the hospital rather than call 911 for assistance, and no one could explain why he insisted to keep me uninformed about his admittance into the hospital... no one, and no one understood the anger and hurt that welled up inside me.  It wasn't about me, or it should not have been, but I felt like a dagger had been jabbed into my heart.  There we were, the two of us:  both with wounded hearts, but only one of us was being treated.

"Looks like you dodged the bullet this time," nodded his cardiologist.  "You are a very fortunate man. Two weeks of nothing but taking it easy.  Come to  my office in four weeks for your echo cardiogram and follow-up appointment, and in the meantime we'll get you started on the cardio rehab program here at the hospital.  Take your meds and adjust your diet:  beef just once a week and lower your sodium intake.  Stay away from the fast food restaurants.  If you have any any chest pains, take one nitroglycerin tablet.  If after five minutes you still have chest pains, take another nitroglycerin pill.  Then if your chest pain continues, call 911."  I elbowed, uh, poked, Richard.  "If you have any other problems whatsoever, call me."

Well, we made it through our hospital stay, and Richard did simmer down, eventually.  Me, too... it just has taken me longer.  It is now six weeks since the attack, and we are much older, and we are wiser.  The past is behind us, but always with us.  The future is a big question mark, and the present is here, but only for a moment.  So, while I have the opportunity, I thank God that Richard is still with us, and that he is as healthy as he is.  I thank God for the medical personnel that took care of him and saved his life, and I thank God for the friends & family that helped us make it through this frightening time.   They say to pick yourself up and keep going, but this was one time where neither one of us was able to do it on our own.  Praise be to God for His provision and for keeping us safe, and me... sane.

Well, I guess that is debatable.  Like I told Richard, my wonderful, stubborn, hard-headed, hard to understand martian, who I love dearly... "I'm gonna' get you well, and then for not telling me you were sick... I'm gonna' kill you !!!!!"  Yes, survived another crisis... now older, fatter (I'm a stress eater.), and just worn-out, but considering painting something blue.  They say it has a calming effect.

So, here I sit writing my story.  The rest of the time I'm sincerely trying to be a good wife and nurse.  Neither one is easy, but I'm grateful to have the chance to try.

Sincerely,
Cindy Lou

Typical heart attack symptoms:

Chest discomfort or pain

Upper body pain

Stomach pain

Shortness of breath

Anxiety

Lightheadedness

Sweating

Nausea and vomiting

Heart attack symptoms vary widely.  For instance, you may have only minor chest pain while someone else has excruciating pain.

One thing applies to everyone, though:  If you suspect you’re having a heart attack, call for emergency medical help immediately!  Don’t waste time trying to diagnose heart attack symptoms yourself.

Additional heart attack symptoms in women:

Women may have all, none, many or a few of the typical heart attack symptoms.  For women, the most common heart attack symptom is still some type of pain, pressure or discomfort in the chest.  But women are more likely than are men to also have heart attack symptoms without chest pain, such as:

Neck, jaw, shoulder, upper back or abdominal discomfort

Shortness of breath

Nausea or vomiting

Abdominal pain or “heartburn”

Sweating

Lightheadedness or dizziness

Unusual or unexplained fatigue

For more information follow this link:
http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/heart-attack/DS00094/DSECTION=symptoms

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Chapter 2...

Chapter Two - The Journey

"Husband... heart attack... Two hours away... take a deep breath, Cindy."  "I can't..."

Logic took over my actions as emotions quivered my thinking.  Throwing belongings into my suitcase, I dialed my brother's phone number, praying he would answer his phone.  He did, but even big brother's voice could not abate the fear that arose in my throat.  He said he would call his wife and see if she were available to drive the 3 hour trip to stay with Mama until he could get there the next day.  Of course, and thankfully... she agreed and told me not to worry about Mama:  she would get there as fast as she could.  God bless her.  God bless him.

Telling Mama that I had to go without her and leave her behind, broke her heart:  mine, too... but there was no way I could take care of her and be at the hospital also.  She cried more than I, but I could not take the time to console her.  Nor could I break down:  too much to do and too many miles to travel.

The highways between here and there were all too familiar, and the expected speed traps were no where in sight.  Truckers moved aside for me as if someone had gone ahead and prepared my pathway, and my gas tank I had filled just the day before.  It all seemed like deja vu, only this time I was driving in the opposite direction of the previous emergencies, and this time.... well, this time was different.

I was worried about our son.  He would be there at the hospital by himself, shouldering this burden alone; and with his one month old baby, he was already on emotional overload.   Asking family friends to sit and wait with Steve was the one thing I as a mother could do.  I feared the worse, hoped for the best, but still knew anything could happen, and I didn't want our son to face it alone.  He needed someone to lean on... just in case.  Gratefully, the friends I called dropped what they were doing and rushed to the hospital.  They hurried, then had to wait.  But they did.  God bless them.

As I entered the city, one of my ministers from church called to tell me he was almost at the hospital and would see me there.  I fought back the fear.. and the tears.  God bless him, too.

"Oh, God... please don't forsake us.  Please watch over Richard, and his medical team.  Have mercy on him, Lord.  He's such a good man.  Please take care of Steve.  Please watch over Mama.  Thank you God for friends, for family, for medical professionals.  Oh, God... please help... please.  Help me be strong, once again... Oh, God..."

The folks at the information desk were helpful, but very slow talkers.  They didn't realize I was in panic mode.  I just wanted them to point and give me simple directions to CCU:  I walked away from them as they were still talking.  Rounding the corner  I saw a volunteer I knew, but I didn't dare slow down because my son was standing waiting for me, and there by his side was his lovely little wife. 

With strained voice he said, "Do you want the facts or the chronological order of happenings?"  He's an engineer, just like his dad.  I replied, "The facts."  "He's stable.  The cardiac team found nothing else of concern on their second look at Dad's arteries."  He proceeded to tell about the heart attack, the one stent, the shocking, the CPR, Code Blue, and his dad's stubbornness.  That I already knew about!

"He's stable." pounded in my heart... I could see him.  I could hold him.  I could kiss him.  I could scold him for not telling me or anyone else that he was in trouble.  But this last one should wait.  My husband was alive, and he was "stable".  For this I rejoiced!

I hugged my kids.  I hugged my friends who so lovingly supported us and thanked them for being there with Steve, for Steve, and for Richard and me.  I wiped off my tears, but they kept rolling.  And then I took off for the CCU. 

"I don't know which room he's in," but my feet kept walking anyway.  As the automatic doors opened, a surge of strength kept me upright, but fear and anger chiseled away at my very core.  Without introducing myself, or even speaking to them, the nurses pointed to his room.  They had been watching for me... "the missing wife," and they continued watching me as I entered his room.

(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

Heart Attack! Didn't I Tell You?

Chapter One - The Phone Call

Note to the reader:  I'm asking myself why I'm sharing something so personal and intimate about our family, and I guess there are two reasons.  #1.  It could be beneficial to you or someone you love:  perhaps you can learn from our mistakes.  #2.  Perhaps I can learn from our mistakes.

Sometimes you get hit hard, right in the gut, and your response is and can only be... a gasp for air. 

It wasn't me who had the heart attack, but my husband.  At age 62, he seemed the picture of health:  one without a family history of heart disease, and a man who loves to golf and play tennis.  That's what he did the eve of his heart attack:  play tennis.  The day before, he played several rounds of golf, and had chest pains afterwards.  The pain subsided after a few hours, so the next day, he pretended that nothing was wrong.  He played tennis for an hour, and then quit. 

He came home with pain, and stayed awake with pain all night until 5:00 a.m. the next morning, Thursday, January 6, 2011.  Then he drove himself to the emergency room which is about fifteen minutes away.  The medical people easily recognized the symptoms and asked him which family members they should call.  He said, "No one.... don't bother them.  My wife's out of town."  I was.  It was true.  I was two hours away in Oklahoma with my mother, caring for her, but that was no reason to not call me. 

The nurses and doctors pushed further, "Mr. Hodges, you are having a heart attack right now, and you have been having one for some time.  We're taking you up to the Cath Lab immediately.  We need to call your family and let them know.  "Who can we call?"  Still, he stubbornly said, "No.... don't bother them."

What on earth was he thinking???  The man was having a heart attack, and he wouldn't let his family know about it!

Communication in our marriage, all thirty-eight years, has always been an issue.  I give too much info, or at least I used to, and he gives too little.  He has never been much for conversation.  Over the course of time, my conversations and sentences have shortened because I can tell when he's on overload and received too much information.  You know how we women are, we can tell when we are being "tuned out", and you know how men are:  they think we just ramble.  So, sometime or somewhere, I just sort of quit trying.  I felt that having to pull and prod him just to gather information was a waste of energy.  I don't know what he felt... perhaps he felt that I was intrusive.  Perhaps he just didn't want me to know more than he offered.  Perhaps he felt I already knew what I needed to know... perhaps. 

Or perhaps he was trying to protect me.  Our last fifteen months dealing with my mother's health issues had stretched us beyond all boundaries of normalcy.  We were exhausted mentally, physically and emotionally, plus we were still trying to figure out the next part of her life:  ours, too.  We had lived away from home and away from each other more in that time period than we had ever done so, and thousands of those hours were spent at hospitals and other medical care facilities with Mama.  Perhaps he was still in denial that the heart attack was really happening, and that this time HE was the patient, and I, once again, the caregiver.

I don't know what he was thinking.  Our son doesn't know, either.  He was just ten minutes away and could have, would have driven his dad to the ER, or would have called 911.  Our son is just as bewildered as I about his dad's silence.

The cardiologist found one artery 95% clogged and inserted one stent.  The other arteries were only mildly blocked and required no stents, thank goodness.  Once stable, my husband was rolled down to his room in CC (Cardiac Care).  Soon upon his arrival, his heart rhythms were so out of sync, that the cardiac team had to shock his heart and then perform CPR:  otherwise, Code Blue.

That's when his nurse became emphatic, "Mr. Hodges... we have to call someone!  Let me call your wife or your son!"  My husband, annoyed from being awakened from such "good sleep" as he called it, just wanted to go back to sleep.  So, he agreed and gave her permission to call.  She did immediately!

About 10:30  that Thursday morning I received a phone call from a very persuasive woman claiming to be a cardiac nurse, and that my husband had just had a heart attack!  She continued telling me that they had to do CPR on him, and shock his heart, and that they were at that time taking him back up to the Cath Lab to see if they had missed anything!  She said that I needed to be there!  As she was hanging up the phone she said that she would then call our son to alert him.

With the sound of her voice reeling in my head, it never occurred to me to doubt the reality of this phone call.  Immediately I tried to figure out what I should do first.  There I was taking care of my mother who couldn't stay long by herself without assistance, but now I needed to be in Texas caring for my husband, my dearly beloved, hard-headed, hard-to-understand, stubborn husband who had just had a heart attack.  I needed to be and wanted to be with him, beside him...  whether he made it through this heart attack or... not. 

"Why, oh why hadn't I called him the night before?"  It had been two days since we had last talked.  Now it didn't make any sense at all that we hadn't phoned each other, but earlier I had felt that if he wanted to talk or had something to say, he would have called me.   "Why, oh, why hadn't I called him just to check on him?  All I had to do was pick up the phone ."  "Why's?, "Why not's?", and "What now's?"  kept flooding my mind.

I felt like I had been punched in the gut... hard... really, really hard.


(to be continued...)



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.

"Stuck"

Where I sit today is a very cozy place to be.  I'm warm.  I'm safe.  I'm not being forced to labor, nor am I being forced to act like someone I'm not.  As a matter of thought, what force there is around me is one that comes from within, not from external sources.  When it's just me, I'm not sure that's a good thing.

My internal drive seems to be in "park" and rather "stuck" in the same place that it's been for awhile.  I feel like an old car that can't make it up the hill and my owner crammed scotch blocks behind my wheels to keep me from rolling backwards, careening down into some deep, dark crevice.  I can't get up enough steam to go forward, but I have dug in my heels so that I won't go backwards.  I am determined to not go there.

So, it's either "here, to stay" or "move forward" or "move sideways".  Sounds like some kind of dance, doesn't it?  Yes, come to think of it, that is exactly what it is.  It's life's dance, and I can sit it out, or I can join the party.

But, where I sit today is a very cozy place.  I'm warm.  I'm safe.  I have much to be thankful for, much to do, yet this twinge of unhappiness and dissatisfaction weigh me down like lead in my dancing shoes.  Like I said, when it's just me, I'm not sure that's a good thing.

Guess we all have days like this, especially when for several days the sun has hidden behind the clouds.  Guess we can't always be who we want to be.  Guess that's normal.  The fact is:  I need a friend today, and maybe, just maybe... that friend will ask me to dance, and together we'll make it up that hill.

Waiting for the sun to shine; believing it will,
Just a little blue for right now...
Cindy Lou

"Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you.  Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up."  ...Holy Bible, James 4: 8, 10

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need."  ...Holy Bible, Hebrews 4:16

p.s.  I'm gonna' need these...

@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges All Rights Reserved.