The Prayer Meeting

He stared at her as if he could "eat her up", and they were in church!  Scandalous, I tell you... but, oh what a nice compliment!  She hadn't felt that special in a long, long time, and there was something in his eyes that made her long to look back at him... made her long to link gazes.  But, she didn't dare.

The prayer meeting crowd was smaller than usual, probably due to the summer heat and summer vacations, but those attending were somehow refreshed just by gathering together.  High numbers of people aren't required for the Spirit of God's presence:  humble hearts are.

She had never seen him before at church, so "he must be a visitor", she thought.  Most likely he was a relative of Matthew's, since they were sitting together.  He could even be Matthew's father.  They did resemble each other, and the age difference was fitting.  But, his stare made her uneasy.

She wondered if he thought he knew her.  She wondered if she had met him once before, but had somehow forgotten their friendship;  no, relationship... for this stare was more than just a glance. Many questions raced through her mind before he spoke, but none as persistent as the question, "Why is he so focused on me?"  

When they were introduced, his intensity continued as he asked her name.  He smiled and repeated her name, twice:  frontwards & backwards... then he commented on her matching silver jewelry.  She agreed that everything was silver except her wedding ring.  Nervously she held up her left hand showing the gold band, while giggling to cover up her discomfort.  Why had she offered this information?  Obviously he was fishing and she fell for it. "What a nitwit", she thought, disappointed in herself, not that she was married, but that she had not recognized a come on.

Gaining her composure, she changed the direction of their conversation by asking questions about him.  He was indeed Matthew's dad, and the more he spoke, the more she liked him.  Handsome looking in his khaki's and "tucked in" shirt, there was something captivating about his manner.  He spoke eloquently of his current life, lovingly about his Italian heritage,  and passionately about his war history.  He was a World War II veteran, and proud of it, as he should be.  "Navy?"  she asked.  "Yes, how did you know?" 

Then...  they were interrupted.  Their conversation was over.  A member of the congregation greeted him and thanked him for coming, while someone pulled her aside chatting about nothing important and certainly nothing memorable.  Sadly, she turned away from him, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw him glancing back... at her.

She still thinks about him.  He had a certain way about him that made her feel special, and... well, important... just by paying attention to her.  "It isn't forbidden, is it," she wonders,  "to enjoy feeling special?"

His gaze, his body language, his intensity... oh, they were powerful.  Probably four to five minutes is all they had together, but compared to a lifetime, that is such a brief moment.  World wars, cultural differences, twenty-five years of age, and her marriage separated them, but somehow, at that time and place...none of that  mattered.  For that four to five minutes, that one Wednesday night, they belonged to each other... and it made for a very, very interesting prayer meeting.




@Copyright 2011, 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.

Scrambled Eggs

Which shall it be?

"Life is too short for fussing and fighting, my friends."
OR...
"Never go to bed mad.  Stay up and fight!"

Guess it depends on the situation, but I see that most arguments revolve around proving who is right and who is wrong.  We all want to be right.  We want to be the smart one, the superior one, the winner;  but, most of the time, the winning comes at great expense.  Why can't we accept that there is more than one way to do a task, and more than one way to view the situation?  It's all a matter of perspective.

I speak from experience.   Being married to an engineer, and myself being an artist... I know for a fact there is more than one way to get the job done.  For instance:  breakfast eggs.  He likes his fried, squashed, squished and hard as a rock with crispy, crinkled, bacon greased brown edges.  I like mine scrambled with butter, ever so soft, light and fluffy.  It's just eggs, but two distinctly different ideas of how to cook them:  two different preferences, two different perspectives.

Two different people living together:  successfully!  Yes, in this household now, around the cook top, there is peace.  He has his bacon grease and spatula, and I have my butter with olive oil.  'Tis so amicable here.  'Tis so sweet.  And then, out of the blue, holding it high in the air, I hear myself say, "step aside, dear... I have the skillet, and I know how to use it!"

Hungry, grumpy,
and not feeling very patient this morning,

Cindy Lou

p.s.  Even the sweetest rose has its thorns!  (chuckle!)

She Said... He Said!

"I'd talk to the cat, if I had one.
I'd talk to the doggie, too.
I'd talk to the fish in the fishbowl.
I'd talk to the monkey in the zoo.
I'd squawk to the squirrel on the tree limb.
I'd squawk to the turkeys, it's true.
But, why should I squawk and tell them my talk,
when I... can talk... to you?"

"Because my dear,
You hurt my ear.
You babble what you say.
You think too much.
You speak too much.
You jabber everyday.
I'll buy the cat.
I'll buy the dog.
Or take you to the zoo.
To stop your squawk,
To stop your talk,
I'll do anything for you!"

"You will?"
"I will."
"Ahhh... 'Nough said."


Do you identify with either side of the above conversation?  If so, then you most likely have been in a long-term relationship or you currently are in one.  You probably don't speak with this sing-song type of language, but surely you do converse in some form or fashion.  The above couple worked out their differences in, shall we say... an amicable sort of way?  Well, maybe...

In his book, The Five Love Languages, author Dr.Gary Chapman explains different ways people express their love and different ways they want others to express their love to them.  It's a most helpful book about relationships of all kind:  husbands, wives, children, etc., and I highly recommend reading it.  It certainly opened my eyes about communication!  Dr. Chapman states that the five love languages are:

Love Language #1:  Words of Affirmation
Love Language #2:  Quality Time
Love Language #3:  Receiving Gifts
Love Language #4:  Acts of Service
Love Language #5:  Physical Touch

So, in your busy schedule, take time to read this book.  You can discover which language you speak, and if anyone around you speaks like you do.  Can you handle learning something new about yourself?  Is it time for us to learn an additional language, a new style of communicating, a new way of expressing love?  I think so, and I think the woman in the above illustration should go first... and she will, just as soon as she finishes, excuse me... just as soon as I finish.... squawking!


"Dear Lord, I am so focused on doing things my way.  Forgive me for my selfishness, and show me new ways to love the people I love.  Help me understand them.  Help me appreciate them.  And help me show them, in ways that they understand, that I love them .  Thank you, Jesus.  Amen."



@Copyright 2010, Cindy Lou Hodges
All rights reserved.