John and I spent yesterday like any other day in the hospital. We can both fit on his bed, so we laid there together and watch T.V., talk, and nap. One of our favorite nurses, Josh, came in and told us all about his recent trip to Alaska, and John and he talked about golf. They talked about playing together when John got better. John was his only patient, so he just hung out in our room.
I left to go home around 7:00 just like I always do. The plan has been to drive back and forth from home until John has his surgery. Then I will stay in the hotel nearby.
It was just like any other night. I did a few things around the house, and then I went to bed. I laid there for a few minutes, but I couldn’t sleep despite my exhaustion. So I decided to go ahead and take my shower so that I could sleep a little longer the next day and not have to take one.
When I was getting out of the shower I heard my phone ring. It was 11:30 p.m. I thought to myself, “Oh, this is it! John got a heart!” But I noticed that it wasn’t “John’s ring”, and I thought that he would be the one to call me when his heart came. I picked up the phone, and it was a Durham area code.
Then I answered it. It was The Call that every person worries about and dreads. I just never thought I would get it.
The doctor told me that John’s heart began to beat really fast. He had an Arrhythmia, and they could not get it to come down. While this was happening John couldn’t breathe, and he panicked. He wouldn’t keep the air mask on his face, so they had a intubate him. The doctor told me that I needed to come to the hospital. That’s pretty much all I remember about the conversation, but I do remember asking him if John is dying. I also asked him to please not let my husband die.
My body was shaking profusely. All I could pray over and over was, “Please!” I begged and pleaded with God all the way to Durham.
Those 66 miles were the longest I have ever traveled.
When I got to John’s room it was almost 1:30 a.m. He had a breathing tube down his throat, and he was completely sedated.
They let me stay in his ICU room all night last night. I sat in a chair with my head laying on his bed, and I cried. I cried and begged. I cried and pleaded. I cried and bargained. Please, God, whatever you do, please don’t take him now.
I have been up for 36 hours. They have been the longest, most painful hours of my life . . .
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