The First Heart Cath

This morning a year ago was another low point for me. As I recall all these "lows," I've realized that every one was lower than the one before. Peter was scheduled for his diagnostic heart catheterization at 7:00 a.m., which meant no food from 2:00 a.m. Tom and I slept very little (if at all) that night. We finally gave up trying and starting getting ready for the day around 5:00. I can clearly recall sitting in the rocking chair, holding Peter (who was VERY fussy and hungry) and counting down the minutes until they would come for him. I kept having some awful thoughts like, "Will this be the last time I hold him? Is this my last hour with him?" A heart cath was so mild compared to what Peter (and us) had yet to face, but at this point in my journey, I couldn't help wondering..... We walked down to the cath lab with several nurses and then kissed Peter goodbye and handed him off. No words, just emotions. The Dr. that would be doing the heart cath talked to us for a few minutes and gave us the hard facts. All of the cardiologists were brutally honest - something that was very difficult and yet helpful at the same time. We headed back to Peter's room to pass the time.

During the hours of the cath, we had a lot of visitors which was a great distraction. We spent the morning talking and laughing and even eating. Around noon, the two cardiologists came in to talk to us. They said that Peter's pulmonary artery was connected to the lung, but not to his heart. They were going to consult with the surgeon before deciding how to proceed. At this point, this was very good news - a great example of how our perspective had changed. They said Peter was in recovery and we would be able to see him in an hour or so.

When we were called in to recovery with Peter, I was completely unprepared for how he would look. He was ghostly white, hooked up to many tubes and wires, and they were concerned because they couldn't get him to wake up. Also, his blood circulation was poor. Gradually, Peter improved and was able to be moved back up to his room. As the day passed, Peter recovered. He regained his color and ate and was alert. The pictures (above) were taken that night about 8:00. Peter was really waking up and looking at his hands and at that monkey my aunt bought for him.

In the evening, we met the surgeon, Dr. Watts, whom we liked immediately. He said that the cardiologist team met together on Thursday mornings to discuss different cases. He said they would need to discuss Peter's case together and have everybody's input before making a recommendation to us. In the meantime, they were going discharge Peter in the morning because staying in the hospital just put him further at risk of catching something and complicating things. Tom and I were so relieved to be going home. It wasn't a total relief - we knew we had as yet much more to face, but going home was enough for the moment. The rest of the night was relatively quiet, although again, not much sleep. When we were home, Tom and I calculated how much sleep we got over six days in the hospital and it came to 6-8 hours - that's total, not per night. It is miserable to be in shock, highly emotional and exhausted.

I don't want to over-spiritualize our experience, but sometimes spiritual analogies jump out at me when I write all this out. I was thinking about how the whole heart catheterization procedure was nothing compared to the open-heart surgery we had yet to face, and yet it is the heart cath where fear enveloped me. Among many things, preparation was partly the cause. I was totally unprepared the day of the heart cath. By the time we reached open-heart surgery, I was much more together. I had had time to read and prepare and talk to other people that had been through what we were going through. I had some much-needed sleep and time at home with my family. I had had time with the Lord and in His Word. The heart cath was like the dress rehearsal for the big show. I felt like my performance in the dress rehearsal was lousy, I was afraid and generally nothing but a mess. However, by the time the curtain rose on the real show, I was ready. It didn't matter how badly I failed in the dress rehearsal because the performance in the big show was all that really mattered. I cling to that idea when I feel like I'm failing in this life and that is often. This is only the dress rehearsal. When the curtain lifts on the real performance, I'll be ready. God will make sure of it.